The Saga Continues

On Friday, I received the bill for the ambulance ride. In excess of $700. Yikes. Yesterday I received the copy of the police report (I am sexily referred to as "pedalcyclist" and "unit #2"). I also learned that my car insurance would cover this, but hopefully the woman's (unsexily called "driver" and "unit #1") insurance will cover it instead. Regarding my own, I made absolutely sure that Pemco knew that I was riding a bike, not driving any kind of motorized vehicle. Apparently, they cover that too because I was struck by a car (a 1998 Ford Windstar van, gold)? It's not entirely clear. Anyway, the whole process is fascinating--hospital, bills, police, insurance companies. I just want my bike to be tuned up so I can ride again!

My injuries are healing nicely; every day I feel better. There are some wicked scabs forming, which will hopefully form into gnarly scars (increasing street cred, obviously).

Here's a short, written in second person [work in progress?]. Any opinions are greatly appreciated.



The Hospital

You can hear sounds of the hospital all around you; machines beeping, people murmuring, hushed voices. Time passes slowly, or quickly; you can't see the clock. You know you are alive and conscious of what is happening, because you can feel the pain in different, distinct parts of your body. Rhythmic throbbing in your ankle, sharp pain in your elbow, dull ache in your neck.

Time means nothing because you are here and you are now. You don't think about what you will do next week, you don't think about what happened today before the accident, or yesterday. Now is all that exists for you and for everyone else.

You feel the hardness of the board against your body, creating a persistent discomfort where unyielding plastic meets bone: the back of the head, the lower back, the elbow. You try to move your leg--the one that doesn't hurt--to a more comfortable position to ease the pressure on your lower back, but you can't. You can't move. You are powerless to do anything against the straps that bind you at various points along your body: head, chest, hips, legs.

You wait, you endure in silence. The sounds of the hospital continue around you. A young girl asks her father what happened to him, does he hurt? A woman fusses over him, telling him to accept the pain medicine. He moans as a nurse dresses his wounds. Footsteps, coming, going, coming. For a moment, you panic. Has the hospital staff forgotten that you're here? Does anyone know that you're here? Where are you? Does the life that you recall really exist outside? There is nothing to link you to reality. You are alone.

Your brother comes, your friends come. Your life returns: it is as you were remembering.