Friday, the 15th – Setback Number X

All of a sudden, I was on the ground, a stream of curses flowing as fast as the tears. I was yelling at the white Jeep that just hit me, throwing me off my bike. I hollered at the driver “what the f#@&*^%! are you doing?” I paused for a moment when I realized my phone was still within reach on my bike’s handlebar mount. I wanted to call Andy. Crying and cursing, I dialed and said, “I just got hit by a car.” I wanted him there.

I couldn’t believe what just happened. I’ve been riding my bike all my life, in all sorts of conditions, including chaotic, urban streets. I’m a safe and defensive rider and have always felt confident that I would stay safe. I’ve had a few close calls before, and even a couple of wipe-outs, but I never imagined that I’d get hit by a car. It didn’t feel real.

People started to gather around me. One man wanted to help me in the worst way, but there wasn’t much for him to do. He wanted to make sure I was okay. He wanted to move me off the street. I wanted to wait for Andy. Oddly, he wanted to keep pouring water on my skinned and rapidly swelling knee. I asked him to stop because he was using up my drinking water! Another woman stopped and called 911. An impatient commuter started beeping at the Jeep so she could get out of the parking lot. I wanted to tell her, “Calm down! I just got hit by a car-my day is not going as planned either! Why can’t you take a minute out of your routine to wait and make sure all is well instead of impatiently blasting your horn?” All I could think was don’t disturb the “crime scene”. Don’t let the Jeep drive away. Get a picture. Get his license plate. It was a jumble of thoughts and tears. But the guy who was pouring water on my knee (still…), moved my bike and let the Jeep move out of the way for the impatient commuter. Luckily, Jeep guy did not leave the scene. He stayed over by his Jeep, making calls on his cell phone. He never said one word to me. He never apologized for running me and my bike over. He never gave any indication that he was sorry.

Quickly, the police and paramedics started arriving. I repeated my story over and over to each person. I was riding northbound on the bike path. The Jeep was stopped at the stop sign, I attempted to make eye contact, and then proceeded. The jeep hit the gas just when I got in front of it. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but I could not prevent it. I watched as the Jeep mangled my bike while I was tangled underneath it, my legs getting contorted and banged up as it twisted under the force of the Jeep. My elbow, hip and knee hit the concrete with a hard impact.

That split second changed my day. I had just been feeling invincible-on top of the world. In the next minute, I was sitting in the street, in tears, in pain and unable to move my knee.

The paramedics were asking me questions and checking me over while the policeman was assuring me that cases don’t get any more clearcut than this scenario. I was in a marked crosswalk. The Jeep had a stop sign. He reassured me that it would be clear in his report that the driver was 100% at fault. That’s great. Except that I was lying in the street, broken, next to my Team Phoenix bike, which was mangled on the side of the road. (Andy’s line is, “how does it feel to be right?) I was watching my goals for 2018 slip to the back burner for yet one more setback in a long string of setbacks. I couldn’t bend my left knee. Damn. Honestly, my left knee is (was) the one part of me that isn’t damaged…

Andy arrived and I started to feel a little less hysterical. He had called his employer, Bell Ambulance, and they soon arrived on scene, too. The second cop was a little cranky about it when I told him that I would be using Bell if I decided to be transported. He said that’s not how it works. Cudahy rescue was here, and if I wanted transport, I’d have to go with Cudahy rescue. I told him that was not my understanding of how it worked. I looked at the paramedic, and asked, “in your opinion, would you even suggest ambulance transport for these injuries?” He was noncommittal, but told me that I could sign to refuse transport. So I did that and then started talking to Bell’s paramedics. Being full of grit and determination, I really didn’t think I needed to go by ambulance. I just wanted Andy to drive me to the hospital. It was less than a mile away. It was a struggle to get in the car, because I couldn’t bend my knee much, but I got in and then the policeman came over to finalize his report and wish me luck. The Jeep guy’s friend also came over to apologize, but the man who hit me still never said a single word. He altered the trajectory of my life. I wonder if there was any consequence to his.

In the meantime, Andy loaded my bike onto the car while I sat in the passenger seat. Usually, I lock my bike to the rack, but something told me that nobody would steal a mangled bike off a car that was parked at the emergency room.
On to the ER. I did promise Andy that I would take him to a doctor to get his foot checked and we were on the way to see a doctor. Maybe we could get a two-fer. The nurse just laughed. Why is it that they always think I’m joking? Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get out of taking care of Andy.

He insisted on getting a wheelchair to get me into the ER. I didn’t object. Much… We spent the next three hours getting my injuries checked out. There was a physical exam, and x-rays of my knee and femurs. My knee was becoming increasingly swollen and the bruises started to appear on both thighs and right shin, where the bike frame struck me. My left hip had huge bruises, too, from hitting the concrete. The X-ray tech kept asking me to position myself in various ways on the table, each position hurting more than the previous one. The last one was extremely awkward. At least they got good images.

Luckily, nothing was broken according to the x-ray. They gave me pain pills, a knee brace, and asked if we wanted to watch a video on “how to use crutches”. I said no. How hard could it be? But Andy thought a little entertainment was a great idea, so we agreed to watch the video. I’m glad we did, because it put me in a better mood. The nurse literally wheeled in an AV cart set-up straight out of my 80s high school days. A CRT TV sat on the top of the cart and a VCR on the bottom. She popped in the VHS tape (I am not kidding!) and the ensuing video took my mind off my pain. It was hilarious-so hilarious that I did not pay any attention to the tips on using crutches. I think I figured it out pretty fast, and I made my way out to the car to get home to start recovering and re-calculating my plans for the year. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to work around a set back.

Photo Sep 15, 11 06 17 AM


Friday, the 15th

It was Friday, September 15th. I woke up feeling great. I drove the kids to school, and then back home to get ready for my morning bike ride through Grant Park. I smooched my husband a bit (we’re newlyweds) and tried to get him to come biking with me. He’d been struggling with foot pain all summer, so he didn’t want to join me. As I was getting ready to ride, I told him, “that’s it, I’m taking you to a clinic today to get your foot checked out….”

“AFTER my bike ride.”

Andy is the kind of guy who takes care of everybody else first, and doesn’t want to complicate things by imposing his own problems into the mix. He has taken such good care of me through so much, and I want to be able to do that for him, too. Sometimes, I have to force him to let me take care of him. I had to get him to the doctor. His foot pain had gone on too long. Nothing was going to prevent me from biking on a morning like this, though. It was an absolutely ideal morning for a bike ride. The temperature was in the 60s, there wasn’t a hint of wind, and the blue skies were perfectly clear. I’d get home before the clinics opened, anyway, and then I’d get him to a doctor.

I put on a long-sleeved shirt and biking pants, but decided not to wear my bicycling shoes that clip into the pedals, because they’ve been making my feet go numb when I ride. Instead, opting to wear my running shoes. And off I went. My favorite part about living here is the fact that we are right on the parkway off of Grant Park, which gives me over 20 miles of beautiful, off-road biking paths right at my doorstep. Being a part of Team Phoenix has re-ignited my love of bicycling, and my morning ride through Grant Park has become my favorite way to start my day strong. I ride early, so I often have beautiful Grant Park to myself. I get to enjoy the sun rising over Lake Michigan, fresh morning air, and I usually see wildlife. I use this time for morning meditation. It has become a rejuvenating part of my life.

It’s been a long recovery from my DIEP flap surgery in January. I’ve been in pain, and haven’t regained my full strength or mobility. I was getting stronger all the time, though, between my regular swimming and biking. In one week, I would be doing my second sprint triathlon of the year with my two daughters. The first triathlon was at the end of July, and I almost dropped out of it. I pulled a muscle in my back in early July pulling a weed out of the ground. Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be the weed. The muscle in my back snapped so hard that my knees buckled and I fell to the ground. After an ER visit, rest, ice, and ibuprofen, I was back to swimming and biking, but not ready to run. I did not feel ready to do a triathlon, but my family and friends encouraged me to stick with it, and I did it!

That morning, I was feeling particularly good. For the first time since surgery, I felt ready for the upcoming triathlon. As I made my way through the park, I was reflecting on how far I’ve come since my cancer diagnosis. I felt strong and fully in sync with my bike as I sailed effortlessly across the winding path. It reminds me of a feeling I get as a motorcyclist, when I’m so in tune with my bike that it becomes an extension of me. It is a liberating feeling. My muscles control the bike subconsciously, leaving my mind and body and all senses free to fully immerse in the surroundings. That was the state of mind I was in and my thoughts turned to my up-coming goals. I’ve been keeping a “50After50” Bucket List of 50 big, high reaching goals that I want to achieve after my 50th year on this planet. Think Big. Aim High! I was feeling strong and had decided to sign up for the 2018 IronMan in Madison. I had watched my niece, Tamra, and some of my Tri-Faster and Team Phoenix friends do the IronMan this year, and I wanted to experience it. I’ll need to be strong to tackle some of the things on my bucket list (kite-surfing, hiking the Inca trail, hitting all of the National Parks, exploring the world on my motorcycle)! What better way to prepare?

My goal this summer was to have a strong recovery from DIEP surgery and go into the second phase of surgery strong. The plan was to do the triathlon on Sept 24th, accompany my dad on a Stars and Stripes Honor flight on October 14th, and then tackle the next surgery in November, so that by 2018 (and my 50th birthday!) I could hit the ground running and live big.

All of these reflections were in my mind as I came up out of the park, nearing Cudahy, where the bicycle path crosses the entrance to a parking lot. As I approached the driveway, a Jeep was coming out of the parking lot. I slowed way down as the Jeep came to a stop at the stop sign. I did what I always tell my kids to do. I say, “Never assume the driver is going to see you. Always make eye contact.” I paused and looked at the driver. I even said out loud, “Do you see me? Are you stopping? You are stopping, right?” And I proceeded to cross (at the marked crosswalk).

He did NOT see me. It seemed surreal, almost like he intended to scare me. He suddenly hit the gas, but surely he would stop again before he got to me. Then he hit the gas again and soon his big, white Jeep was riding over my bike, with my legs tangled under the bike frame. I was thrown to the concrete-Hard.