Fall Down Go Boom

I'm at home, propped up in bed on pillows, and I have drugs.

This morning as I was on my way to work I was going along Cherry Way, which is the sort-of alley that runs parallel to Smithfield and under what-used-to-be-Kauffman's.  The last cross street before Allies is also an alley, and it has stop signs in both directions, which Cherry does not. I was coming up on it, slowing down to be able to stop at the light at Allies, when the car coming down the hill pulled out from the stop sign and crossed in front of me.  I tried to swerve--right, when I should have gone left, but hindsight and so forth--and basically sideswiped the car.  I doubt the driver even saw me before I hit, as I was, after all, just a bicycle and therefore not part of the regular flow of traffic.

Yes, I'm a bit bitter here.

So there I am, lying in the street, staring up and thinking, OK, I can at least move everything.  And also Hey, my breathing is funny, is that just adrenaline or is there an actual problem?  People called 911.  Someone lent me a cell phone--dialled it for me so I wouldn't have to move--so I could call Liam and tell him what had happened and that I'd let him know when I knew where I was going.  The bonus of where this happened is that there's an ambulance station about three blocks away.  THe EMTs showed up and started asking me all the usual questions, with a focus on "Does your neck hurt at all?", which it thankfully did not; everything that hurt, aside from road rash from hitting the ground, was my lower back.  Somewhere in here a guy who works in my building went by and offered to let folks know I would likely not be in. The EMTs got me on a backboard just in case and put me in the ambulance, and we started working out things like my name and who was going to pick up my bike from the police station.  And I said "Bill Trimmer", and the male EMT paused for a second and said, "Bill Trimmer. Tall, blond, beard?  Loud?"  And I said yes, and he said, "What's Liam's number these days?"  So I told him and he called and said, "Liam, it's Larry.  I've got your girlfriend in the back of my ambulance."  And he took the bike back to the EMT station instead (and brought it over here when his shift was over, which was very nice of him).  Liam knows a lot of people, have I mentioned that?

So I went to the hospital.  They checked very carefully that none of my bones were damaged, and gave me ibuprofen and Valium, and had me pee in a cup to make sure my kidneys weren't bleeding.  And just when I thought I was going to end up with prescription-strength ibuprofen, the doctor said, "And I'm going to give you a scrip for Vicodin."  I did not giggle, but I was very very close.

Everyone keeps cheerfully assuring me that I'm going to feel worse tomorrow, which I knew anyway; I even have a doctor's note to stay home if I want to.  I feel awful about this, because I just got back from vacation after all and I have work I need to get done.  On the other hand I'm not going to do any good if I can't sit up straight, which I kind of can't.

On the upside, Larry knows a bit about bikes and tightened up my brakes for me--when you're an EMT, I expect you hope that every shift consists soley of sitting around your base, doing nothing directly work-related.  I honestly don't think I'd have been able to stop even if the brakes had been perfect, but I have been noticing that they weren't at their best and I imagine running into the car didn't do them any good.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for the cops to call me to get my side of the story.  I sincerely hope I didn't damage the car, for all I'm peeved that the driver either didn't notice me or decided I didn't count as "traffic" because I don't have an IC engine.  And in about 10 minutes I need to take Valium and Vicodin, which one imagines is going to lead to sleep in fairly short order.

This is not how I imagined my day going when I got up this morning...

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