When someone asks "what were you thinking?", it should be blatantly obvious that the person being asked the question wasn't thinking.
Such was the case with me, following my 20 mile an hour swan dive from my bicycle last week.
One moment I was noticing that my front tire had dropped off of the edge of the paved bike path into the pine duff, the next I was flat on my stomach, the bike tangled between my legs and gasping for breath.
My first thought was "Ow!!", the second was "I don't think I can move" to which the little voice inside my head replied, "don't be ridiculous, of course you can move." The following melange of thoughts included thinking of dialing 911 but deciding not to because I wasn't sure I could describe where on the bike path I was, nor could the EMT reach me, and deciding that my best move was probably to get off the bike path before someone else came along and ran over me.
It never occurred to me to use my cell phone to call my husband, working 15 minutes away, to tell what had happened and ask for help. My only explanation is that I wasn't thinking clearly.
Instead I gingerly pulled myself over to the edge of the path and easing myself to a standing position. I carefully picked up my bike, rotated my neck a couple of times, examined the scrapes, picked up the scattered water bottles and bits of my dark glasses and generally began to pull myself together.
I had started the ride, planning to go to the bike shop and get my middle gear on the front crank checked. Somewhere in the process of picking myself up, this became imperative. At no point did it occurr to me that I would have to ride along a road with traffic to get to the bike shop. All I could think of was that they would have some aspirin and I could use the restroom to clean up. I was thinking clearly enough to reroute myself off the larger Mason road and instead took a less direct route on secondary roads. Riding injured, in traffic, and possible damage to my bike or my coordination and reaction time never occurred to me. Nor did it occur to me to call my husband.
I did take a moment to check my orientation by reciting my name, address, telephone number, the date and the location though.
Once at the bike shop I got cleaned up, and was plied with water, coffee and anitseptic cream while they fixed my bike gear and checked out the bike for possible damage. At some point the thought of shock entered my mind so I went next door and bought a muffin and a cookie and ate them. I also reached up, felt the huge goosebump on my forehead and thought "that will hurt in the morning" . The thought of taking off my helmet wandered through, but remembering something about swelling and being afraid I would not be able to get my helmet back on prevented me from removing it or examining it. Once again, never did it occurr to me to call my husband or any one. Instead I was checking myself for pain level to evaluate whether I could ride the 17 miles home.
Once the bike was fixed and ready to go, the guys at the bike shop did a quick orientation check on me and sent me on my way.
I gingerly rode the 17 miles home. Yes, I was riding through traffic and yes I was aware that I was riding very slowly and carefully, but at no point did it occur to me that this was not a good decision. Nor did it occur to me to call my husband and ask him to come get me.
By shifting from drops to aerobars to upright I was able to ease the pain in my ribs and by riding slowly, I avoided having to breath deeply which was a good thing since it hurt tremendously to breath at all.
Once home, I figured I was home free. It was only when I took my helmet off that I realized it was cracked through both shell and lining in three places. Still not thinking of calling anybody,I took a shower, popped a couple of Ibuprofen and went to bed.
Two days later, I went to the doctor to get my knee and shoulder checked out. That was when they discovered that I had a pneumo thorax and put me in the hospital on oxygen. That took another five days out of my life and gave me plenty of time to think. Something I obviously was not doing on the day of the accident as every lab tech, doctor and my husband have pointed out to me.
What have I learned? When in doubt, reach out and let your fingers do the walking instead of perservering and biking on. That's why you wear a helmet and carry a cell phone.
4 comments:
Marni, don't be hard on yourself. You did what many of us would have done and the guys at the bike store thought that you were capable of riding home. And, you were not visibly suffering enough that your husband thought more of it then you did.
You put yourself into action mode and focused on one thing -- getting home. Should you have gone to the e.r.? Yeah, probably. Did it all wind up o.k. in the end? Thankfully, it sounds like it did.
I read your post on ST and all I can say is "phew."
Take it easy and stop being hard on yourself. You'll be riding again soon enough.
devorah, dear heart, thank you. marni
DH is not obcessing about this and has tried his best to be suggestive rather than demanding as to possible alternative behaviors if such an event occurs in the future. He has also taken this to heart as a lesson learned for himself. Would he have done the same as Marni in the past? Possibly. Would he do so from now on? No!
I am incredably thankful that she is OK and happy that she is still enthusiastic about riding. I hope that her homily is taken to heart by all that read her blog.
Signed, DH himself.
OMG! One moment while I reach down and pick up my lower jaw....
You are very, very fortunate, and like Devorah said "phew"!. It's totally understandable why you weren't thinking at the time you should have been doing so, but then again, during times out of the ordinary, our minds and bodies don't always follow Cartesian logic. Thank the stars that all ended well, and that you have become wiser for it. There is no doubt in my mind that you will up up and running, very soon!
...many hugs and sighs of relief from the Old World.....
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