Kayaking: Paused or How I Nearly Broke My Face
Last weekend I went on a bike ride with Bill, Teach, and Teach's (hot) trainer. We were on a very popular and heavily trafficked (bike and pedestrian) bike path.
Bill and I were both on call, so we turned back before the other two. On our return trip we decided to race to catch a light that crossed a major road (it's a bike path in Seattle—major road crossings are involved).
As we crossed the intersection there was a lot of congestion in front of us. We had to slow down quickly. Bill slowed more quickly than I, and also swerved in front of me as he did so. I hit the breaks hard and swerved around him. The end result was me clipping his tire, hitting the curb with my front tire a little wrong, and then, just simply going down.
I hit the sidewalk hard, and kept going. I finally stopped sliding when my head bounced over the curb and my shoulder smacked against it. Lying there on top of my left arm, right hand still holding the right break, I quickly assessed that I was (a) in shock; and (b) not quite 100% alright.
"GRANOLA!!!!" A very very very worried Bill called out.
"Yeah." I managed.
"Are you alright?" his voice thick with worry.
I didn't answer right away. The obvious answer was 'no.' But, I wasn't certain about the extent of the damage. I knew I couldn't feel my left arm—that, at the very least, was bad. Add to that the blood I felt on my face, I should have probably gone with 'no.' I wasn't ready to commit to a 'no' (which probably would have involved an ambulance ride), so I said nothing as I mentally took stock.
I wasn't fast enough.
"GRANOLA!!!" he panicked again. And when I, once again, acknowledged, "Are you ok??!!"
"I don't know," I opted. "Gimme a minute."
That seemed to placate him momentarily. Long enough for me to determine that I thought my arm was probably ok. As I was mentally assessing my arm another cyclist (one of the many who were standing around) offered, "She probably broke her collar bone. That's the most common injury we see with accidents like this." Taking his advice I paused there in my mental once-over. Collarbone, I determined, was go.
I sat up, delicately and deliberately using my left arm to assist. If it was going tobe broken, that would be a quick way to figure that out.
Another cyclist, a woman this time, had dialed 911 before I could tell Bill I didn't need an ambulance. I managed to decline—positive that aside from a couple of nasty cuts and scrapes, and a foul concussion, I was probably just fine.
Bill ran across the street to get some towels to clean my face, and the woman cyclist stayed with me until he returned. I wanted to get up and ride my bike back to my car so we could go to the urgent care, but Bill vetoed that. He also vetoed walking. He was right, but I didn't want to see it that way. I gave him my car keys, and called Spazz to keep me company until he returned.
Teach reached me before he did.
"Oh my gosh, Granola!" I heard her say to her trainer and me alike, as she approached. "Are you ok?" Then she saw the gash and blood and decided to disbelieve my answer. They stayed with me until Bill showed up and got my bike on the car.
Since I had forgotten my wallet at home, and I determined that it wasn't that bad, we went to my place, got my wallet, dropped off my bike, and headed to urgent care.
They determined that I was banged up, but nothing was broken. They also gave me vicodin.
A CT of my head on Monday confirmed that I hadn't broken my pretty face.
After leaving the Urgent Care we left and got some food for me (my lovely swollen face and loads of bandages got some interesting looks all around), and then headed to a bike shop to replace my helmet (broke the Styrofoam), front reflector, and front light. I saved 20% on my new helmet, and got the same one I had before. Though, I was tempted to get a different color.
I've been watching my facial injuries go from gory scrapes and a massive cut to minor road burn, a shallowish cut, a gross scrape and two black eyes. My black eyes are now becoming yellowish, but they're still a lovely angry purple at the center.
Co-workers have all been very stunned and shocked. The thing of it is, the injury looks far worse than it feels. I just hope it doesn't scar up too badly.
My other bruises, shoulder, chest, legs, arms, tummy, etc, haven't quite gotten to the turning yellow stage, so they're still very fun to watch.
In the meantime, kayaking is on hold until I'm not worried about my face burning off in the chlorinated pool water.
Bill and I were both on call, so we turned back before the other two. On our return trip we decided to race to catch a light that crossed a major road (it's a bike path in Seattle—major road crossings are involved).
As we crossed the intersection there was a lot of congestion in front of us. We had to slow down quickly. Bill slowed more quickly than I, and also swerved in front of me as he did so. I hit the breaks hard and swerved around him. The end result was me clipping his tire, hitting the curb with my front tire a little wrong, and then, just simply going down.
I hit the sidewalk hard, and kept going. I finally stopped sliding when my head bounced over the curb and my shoulder smacked against it. Lying there on top of my left arm, right hand still holding the right break, I quickly assessed that I was (a) in shock; and (b) not quite 100% alright.
"GRANOLA!!!!" A very very very worried Bill called out.
"Yeah." I managed.
"Are you alright?" his voice thick with worry.
I didn't answer right away. The obvious answer was 'no.' But, I wasn't certain about the extent of the damage. I knew I couldn't feel my left arm—that, at the very least, was bad. Add to that the blood I felt on my face, I should have probably gone with 'no.' I wasn't ready to commit to a 'no' (which probably would have involved an ambulance ride), so I said nothing as I mentally took stock.
I wasn't fast enough.
"GRANOLA!!!" he panicked again. And when I, once again, acknowledged, "Are you ok??!!"
"I don't know," I opted. "Gimme a minute."
That seemed to placate him momentarily. Long enough for me to determine that I thought my arm was probably ok. As I was mentally assessing my arm another cyclist (one of the many who were standing around) offered, "She probably broke her collar bone. That's the most common injury we see with accidents like this." Taking his advice I paused there in my mental once-over. Collarbone, I determined, was go.
I sat up, delicately and deliberately using my left arm to assist. If it was going tobe broken, that would be a quick way to figure that out.
Another cyclist, a woman this time, had dialed 911 before I could tell Bill I didn't need an ambulance. I managed to decline—positive that aside from a couple of nasty cuts and scrapes, and a foul concussion, I was probably just fine.
Bill ran across the street to get some towels to clean my face, and the woman cyclist stayed with me until he returned. I wanted to get up and ride my bike back to my car so we could go to the urgent care, but Bill vetoed that. He also vetoed walking. He was right, but I didn't want to see it that way. I gave him my car keys, and called Spazz to keep me company until he returned.
Teach reached me before he did.
"Oh my gosh, Granola!" I heard her say to her trainer and me alike, as she approached. "Are you ok?" Then she saw the gash and blood and decided to disbelieve my answer. They stayed with me until Bill showed up and got my bike on the car.
Since I had forgotten my wallet at home, and I determined that it wasn't that bad, we went to my place, got my wallet, dropped off my bike, and headed to urgent care.
They determined that I was banged up, but nothing was broken. They also gave me vicodin.
A CT of my head on Monday confirmed that I hadn't broken my pretty face.
After leaving the Urgent Care we left and got some food for me (my lovely swollen face and loads of bandages got some interesting looks all around), and then headed to a bike shop to replace my helmet (broke the Styrofoam), front reflector, and front light. I saved 20% on my new helmet, and got the same one I had before. Though, I was tempted to get a different color.
I've been watching my facial injuries go from gory scrapes and a massive cut to minor road burn, a shallowish cut, a gross scrape and two black eyes. My black eyes are now becoming yellowish, but they're still a lovely angry purple at the center.
Co-workers have all been very stunned and shocked. The thing of it is, the injury looks far worse than it feels. I just hope it doesn't scar up too badly.
My other bruises, shoulder, chest, legs, arms, tummy, etc, haven't quite gotten to the turning yellow stage, so they're still very fun to watch.
In the meantime, kayaking is on hold until I'm not worried about my face burning off in the chlorinated pool water.
posted by granola girl at 9:31 pm
1 Comments:
I'm glad to hear that your are mostly okay.
The EMS responses don't go into Seattle's bike crash statistics. The folks over at Cascade.org would be interested to know about the location and details of your crash.
They also have an Urban Cycling class that teaches emergency bicycle handling skills.
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