User:BoggessT/cold stretcher

If you have ever been in a life threatening accident then you know, in that moment, nothing else matters. All of your petty worries, doubts, and uncertainties vanish, and the only thing remaining is the question of “what happens next?” I didn’t start feeling scared until after the crash, after the stretcher, after the transport, and right before the mask. My injuries were critical; fortunately my body was still in shock so I didn’t feel any pain other than a bit of stinging on my face. At the time I was just an overly excited city boy riding his bicycle. I never had any close calls or accidents before this, but as they say “everybody gets one.” Well I got mine and it almost cost me my life.

Friday July25, 2008, I had just gotten off work from the fruit stand at Pike Place Market and it was beautiful outside. I made my way to Westlake Center for the Critical Mass ride, joining a hundred or so other bikers. Around 6:30pm we left Westlake and made our way down 1st avenue, and eventually turned onto Pike to head up towards Capitol Hill. Halfway up I see two of my friends waiting for a bus, they flag me down and we get to talking, and I get invited to join them for drinks and a party…. I should have gone.

I say my goodbyes and caught up with the rest of the bikers. Our ride eventually took us up to Volunteer Park, and this is where my life took a turn for the worst. A few bicyclists in front decided to go down one of the steepest hills around, and of course we follow. I was doing fine for a while, but then my toe straps, being the cheap kind, came loose making it impossible to use them to slow down. My next reaction was to lean forward and skid to reduce my speed. There were a handful of seconds of that skid that were amazing, 1…2…3 smooth curves, 4 and 5 turned into a uncontrolled wobble and eventually my back tire went sideways, throwing me over the handlebars.

From there I woke lying on my back, not sure what had happened, but I knew it was bad. Several people were hovering over me, one of them, my best friend Kris, was dabbing my marred face and cushioning my head. My right ear felt oddly warm, I reach up to touch it and pull my already stained hand back with even more red on it. “What’s your full name, where are you, what happened?” These were the questions the other cyclist asked me, they knew not to let me lose conscious, and did whatever they could to keep my eyes open and focused.

I am still not sure what hit the pavement first, but going 30mph and then crashing was bound to the critical. I ended up with a cracked skull, resulting in brain surgery, punctured spleen, bruised ribs, fractured clavicle, and numerous amounts of road rash. I looked like someone beat the hell out of me. As scared as I was lying on that pavement, and then being transported in the ambulance, it wasn’t until I was being wheeled into surgery that I begun to realized that everything I could lose everything.

My two friends I loved the most were by my side. I held onto their hands as long as I could. Both Kris and my girlfriend at the time Kristen were in tears, telling me that everything was going to be fine. Even though they said it, they couldn’t bring themselves to believe it either. My tear-blurred eyes could tell they were more afraid than I was. It was time for me to let go of their hands. Lying on that bed, still conscious and ready for surgery, I am told to relax. This was the moment I felt the most cold and scared in my life, no one knew how bad my head was, the doctors said they wouldn’t be sure until I was in surgery, and here I was, about to find out. The surgeon puts a mask on me and tells me to take three deep breaths…I do so…I only made it to two. I don’t know if it was the drugs or the fact that I had serious trauma to my head, but I didn’t dream…there wasn’t anything there, and it still scares the hell out of me. As drugged as I was when I woke, I still had my two friends by my side. My eyes were only open for short periods before I fell into another healing slumber, nevertheless when they open there was always one of them there.

Every day that passed I managed to stay awake for longer periods of time. By day four I felt the need to leave the hospital, I began to feel claustrophobic, believing that I would recover faster within my own home. Doctors and nurses alike were astounded how fast I was recovering. I still feel it was because I had my friends beside me the entire time. I got to go home after the fourth night, but the doctor insisted that I had someone with me at all times. I needed someone to look after me, especially if I didn’t wake up.

After a passing week or two, I had enough energy to move around. Being asleep for ninety percent of the day you lose all sense of time, I didn’t even know what day it was when I wanted to go outside. Getting back into the flow of everyday life was hard, I was still weak and constantly tired, but everyday a little bit of life returned to my face, and my eyes weren’t so clouded and empty.

As horrible as my accident was, it finally gives me a chance to appreciate the little things in life. Plus I have a crazy story to tell. Every accident, fault, or mistake is an experience. If it were not for my accident I very well may not be where I am right now, or had to job hunt, move to california, or made a least a dozen new friends. Sure crashing my bike was horrible and potentially deadly, but I do not regret it happening.

When I look back to where I was before my accident, I understand that maybe life was too perfect for me at that moment. I had a job I loved, working at the market, an amazing girlfriend and my own apartment in belltown. Some people say everything happens for a reason, I still don't know if I can believe that. There are parts of me however, that tell me everything is ok now. That late July day started a chain of events that led me on an adventure to find myself. I used to be a somewhat predictable person, but that came to an end. Now, well I suppose I'm still a city boy who rides a bicycle, but I put myself out there, I get involved before its too late.

'''I am a city boy. I ride a bike.'''