The Unbelievable Bike Accident of 2003

It was a dark and stormy night. Lie. It was one of those amazing Saturdays in June, sun bright, not yet hot, everyone out and about. The kind of day that reminds you of why you live in the greatest City in the world. The relationship I was in at the time was new and old and few things made us feel closer than playing and exploring on bikes.

In tank top and shorts with sunscreen as armor, I entered the Park at 72nd Street and rode, slowly, almost needing to put my feet down to brake, up to the loop. R (my riding companion) was behind me. Three large women - okay, fine, I'll say it - unpleasantly large - women walked (against traffic) towards me. They wore florescent-colored t-shirts as if they were part of a team or a walk/run, but they weren't.

I rode between one of the women and the curb. There was a drain in front of me. I was past the women - well, they were behind my site - when I felt the push. An unpleasantly large arm, in motion to emphasize words, not exercise, hit the back of my bike just as I entered the area of the drain. I lost control, flipped over my handle bars, first hitting the ground with my right side, then my left, where I landed. My head, thankfully, did not touch the ground. My knees, elbows and left shoulder did.

People walking by stopped to help. I'm okay, I said, and got up. R sat me back down. I was bleeding. It seemed like the blood was coming from everywhere.

"She's bleeding!" said one of the unpleasantly large women, screaming, panicking. "I can't believe this is happening to me!"

"Excuse me," said R, addressing the woman. "Are you okay?" 

She looked down at as much of her body as she could see. She nodded to R.

"Then I guess you should move on," said R, reasonably.

And she did. And the other two followed.

The roller-blade instructor people offered band-aids when I could stand, which was soon after as, I realize now, I was in shock. R made me ride my bike immediately. We went to my apartment and tried to clean the asphalt out of my wounds. Tried again later too but it was in there like goo. Then R made me ride all the way crosstown and down to Bubby's, our original destination. We sat at the bar. People looked at me.

After one or more of their amazing bloody Mary's (yes, we did get the joke), I refused to ride anymore so we walked the bikes to the subway and went home. I was a mess but still not sore. That would happen the next day. I was miserable but refused to go to the doctor. Since nothing seemed broken I felt there was no reason to go and, anyway, I'd have to go to the ER if anything which would mean sitting and waiting for hours, something I did not want to do.

I went to work Monday and took a trip up to the nurse (yes we have a nurse and no I don't work in an elementary school). He (yes) told me not to step outside again without full coverage on the wounds (which were deep and disgusting) and told me to get my shoulder X-rayed immediately. I guess it is a big deal when your arm won't lift above your hip.

Orthopedic. Drugs. Ice cream. Physical Therapy. Pain specialist. Drugs. Frozen yogurt. New Physical Therapy. Sleeping with pillows everywhere. Not sleeping. Drugs. Milkshakes. Second MRI. Pain specialist. So much focus on shoulder no one ever looked at my cervical spine (the top part/neck). Bulging disk. Pinched Nerve. Drugs. Smoothies. Physical Therapy.

You didn't get that woman's name? Really?

And guess what happens when you can't use the left side of your body? You do everything with the right side. And guess what happens when one side of your body does all the work? It hates you.

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