On the way back I noticed on my bike computer that I was running a tad late. I took a shortcut I rarely used but one that I knew would take a mile off the ride. I was pedalling down the road on a beautiful August evening, the sun was still high, and it was perfect. I had been down this road a million times with no problems. But today, coming from the opposite direction was an elderly driver who was almost totally blind yet continued to drive. Without any notice at all she made a left turn into the intersection I was crossing. There was no chance for me to do a thing. I felt the bike slam into the car, then me slamming into the windshield, my arm plowing right through the glass. My head slammed onto the roof leaving a huge divot. Then she hit the brakes. I went flying. Every part of my body that was inside her car as a result of the broken windshield now flew out, dragging the broken window with it. I flew through the air for about 75 feet, the firemen told me later. I hit the ground and rolled. Through all of this, I never lost consciousness as I watched her drive off.
At first all I felt was anger -- not only could I see my destroyed bike on the sidewalk, I knew I would be late for my date -- and I was in a puddle. I picked up my hand to look at it, only the puddle wasn't water -- it was blood. In that instant I saw rather then felt the white wall of pain coming at me and I heard screaming, only to realize it was me that was screaming. Parts of my body that used to be inside were now lying on the street. I knew it was bad when people ran from their house to assist, then covered their faces or the faces of their children when they saw me.
The elderly woman who hit me came back. She had a cell phone but refused to call anyone. When I feebly tried to take it from her hand, she snatched it away from me and snarled, "That belongs to me." "Call 911," I begged over and over, but she just stood there looking at me. A stranger called 911. A car stopped and a woman got out. She said she was a doctor. She knelt beside me and felt my neck and told me to follow her finger with my eyes. After awhile she said, "You have some bad wounds, but I hear the ambulance.You'll be ok." And she ran to her car and drove away as fast as she could.
I was crying like a baby, the pain was extreme. The firemen came up and I felt as if I had been saved. They did everything they could, ignoring my screams as they cut off my clothing, leaving me in nothing buy my undershorts. They put me on the stretcher and put me in the ambulance, all the time communicating with the hospital, who advised a high dose of Demerol. In the ambulance, the drugs caught up with me and I felt relaxed and fine. The driver and the EMT joked and talked with me and were calming and helpful. Later, in the ER the doctors scheduled me for immediate surgery to repair the worst of the damage and reduce the broken bones.
My life changed in that instant. From an in-shape athlete I devolved into a fat piece of crap. Even after I recovered, which took two years, I was too frightened to ride any distance alone and every car that came up behind me caused my asshole to pucker in absolute terror. I still cannot watch motorcycle or bike stunts or accidents on TV or Youtube. Sometimes I have flashbacks. I had three expensive racing bicycles -- all sold now, replaced by one cheap Walmart special I ride maybe once a month for 5 miles. My life changed, my career suffered, my social life ended for two years while I recovered and I became incapable of doing many, if not most, of the physical things I used to do. I became bitter despite being so lucky that I wasn't paralyzed or brain damaged. I have many, many scars on my arms and leg and face but I don't care about them. I care about the biking goals I've lost and how there is no enjoyment on a bike for me anymore, how I have to force myself to get on and ride even a few miles, something I couldn't wait to do in the past, get on and just peddal, for miles and hours, for the sheer enjoyment of it. That is gone now, lost forever I think.
And the bitch who hit me -- never once apologized. Throughout the years and trials that followed she tried to blame me for being invisible -- despite the fact that I was riding a bright red bike and wearing the brightest bike gear possible. The punishment for her was nowhere near as severe as I would have liked and the financial results never made up for the screws and rods and plates that hold me together inside now.
That one decision to shave a mile on a route I rarely used changed my life. If I had stuck to my original goal I would still be on top of the world instead of the damaged, broken slob I have become. But it is my own fault for letting it define me, as much as I struggle and have struggled to get beyond it. No matter what I try now, my motivation is lost, and I give up after a few weeks.
Read other answers by Jay Bazzinotti on Quora:
- What is the single insight that most changed your life?
- What beautiful things have you cried over in your life?
- What are the top ten things you have experienced in life?
from Quora http://ift.tt/2dFyJn9
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