Today, I found myself driving less than 5 miles by myself to fill up my car with gas – I didn’t realize this until I was headed back to the place where I would lay my head at night. The only time I’ve been using my car is to travel with others or make trips more than 10 miles from the place I am laying my head at night. This week I’ve been incredibly blessed to be able to ride my bike to work! It’s been so amazing. Yesterday, when I clocked out and went to saddle up on my bike, I found a 1 cm thorn in my tire. Bugga!
Therefore, today consisted of fixing the flat tire! Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t bike today because eleven years ago today I was taking care of a couple of children . . . The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. Don’t ask me what happened because I don’t know. Something about a bike accident. I remember the story my parents told me all too well:
My brother was at home when the phone rang – he had his hand on the front door waiting to leave. He waited for the answering machine to pick up and heard something along the lines of “this is a hospital in Tucson, Arizona re: amber j.” He changed his plans to rush down to the restaurant where my parents were having dinner. He relayed the message to them. While my parents rushed to home, my brother stayed at the restaurant with my father’s credit card, drinking the wine, tipping the waitress, etc. My parents arrived at the house, phoned the hospital, and my dad drove to the airport. He arrived at the airport 5 minutes after the last flight departed to Tucson, AZ. He caught the next flight to Phoenix, AZ, rented a car, and arrived at the hospital some time in the middle of the night. The nurses said he was able to stay in the room with me. However, the next night he was told visiting hours were over, but he had no place to go. He sweet talked them into letting them stay. He stayed with me the entire time I was at the hospital. The entire hospital visit is vague to me- I don’t remember most of it.
On Sunday evening, I was released. The first stop on the way back to my residence was the bike shop to purchase a helmet! Then my dad wanted to go to the accident scene. We went there and my blood stained the street. Nope, no memories came back, and to this day’ I basically lost 48 hours of my life to amnesia due to a head injury from a bicycle accident.
I can’t remember the last time I rode a bike without a helmet. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t bike today!?!?
This year I revisited the scene by myself. I was unable to find the bloodstain, and I didn’t make a big fuss about it. Just wanted to go back to ‘the scene of the crime’. No memories! However, it was liberating to be able to ride my bike on the street where my blood-covered head once laid in the lap of another cyclist.