What it's like to get hit by a truck

I've been visiting doctors pretty consistently since my accident. I've never been a big fan of visiting the doctor's office because either there's nothing wrong with me and my symptoms, therefore, can't be treated. Or it's something chronic, like asthma or irritable bowel syndrome, which are just things you have to live with. Basically I'm a very healthy person. I have a lot of stupid chronic things wrong with me -- mitral valve prolapse, super bad hay fever, acid reflux, along with the aforementioned asthma, which really isn't very bad, and the IBS. But these things are under control and I can go ages between doctor's visits.

These days, however, I'm at some kind of appointment at least once a week, and it's getting on my nerves. This past week, I had to have the hemotoma on my hip drained. It didn't hurt at all, mainly because my knee was throbbing so much, I really didn't pay much attention to the hip draining. As I went in to get the procedure the nurses started asking about the accident. I'm starting to know all the nurses at my various doctor's offices and the subject of the details of the accident come up. People are curious. What is it like, besides the obvious pain, to get hit by a truck?

I was riding along the Ventura River bike path, which winds around the Oil Country building as it approaches the Stanley Street crossing. You ride parallel to the traffic as it comes off Hwy 33, so people can see you approaching the crossing. A blue car had spotted me as it was going east and started slowing as it approached the crossing. I always appreciate people who watch for bicyclists because so many people just ignore them and cut you off or fly through a marked flashing intersection just because they're jerks. I thought it was really cool that the car was slowing because it was later in the day -- 4:45 -- which is approaching rush hour when traffic gets crazy.

I slowed way down, although I was never going very fast. My bike is a big heavy cruiser, which is the only kind of bike I ride. It's really hard to get it going and most people smaller than I am won't ride it because it requires a lot of strength to make it move. This is why I like it because it's a really good workout for me since I can't do things that require too much panting because of the asthma. I also like to sit up when I ride. The racing bike position with my butt higher than my head makes me feel as though I'm falling. So I cut quite the non-cool figure, what with my plastic basket with plastic flowers, my gymc shorts and my t-shirts.

I saw that a big, white van had stopped in the westbound lane and that there was no traffic in the far left lane, and my duded in the dark blue car had stopped and was waving me through. Everyone was stopped for me and there was a lot of traffic, so I started through the intersection, passing through the pylons that activate the flashing lights. I was going pretty slowly and had passed the blue car and was in front of the white van, which I noticed had handicapped license places. I had been craning my neck to look around the white van and hadn't seen anyone approaching it. Rob and I have always referred to the old crossing sucker accident where one guy will allow traffic to pass in front of him only to have cars going the other way smash into the poor crosser. We always watch out for the empty lane and I had seen nothing.

But just as I was getting past the van I caught a glimpse of a red truck barrelling toward me in the far left lane. I was almost past the van, but I instinctively locked up my pedal brakes, hoping to stop in time, but bikes don't stop on a dime. I heard the truck's brakes lock up as I was rounding the van, but I knew then that a collision was unavoidable. There was the "Oh shit." moment. Then the quick, "Maybe this won't be so bad.' Followed by a retreat deep into my mind.

One of the things I learned as a child was that if something really horrible was going to happen -- something really painful that you couldn't avoid -- that you could go deep inside your mind and you can't get hurt. I've learned that this is a learned response to extreme abuse, but it can come in handy in an emergency. I've always held to the belief that if death is imminent, it is important to make the mind as still and as calm as possible as you face your end. I'm not sure why it's important, but it's important to me that my last moment of life isn't one of fear and panic.

One time when I broke my wrist and I was waiting in the emergency room an elderly woman was being treated near me. I could only hear her as she started to cry, "I'm so afraid. I don't want to die. I'm so afraid." The nurse reassured her, "It's OK. Don't be afraid. You're going to be alright. It's OK." But she wasn't. There was just the sound of people rustling as they worked and the machines beeping -- not all the talking and clamor you see in the TV shows. No one said much. Then finally, the nurse said, "Well, should I put her things together to give to the family?" And I realized that the woman had died and that she had been terrified and begging not to go.

I decided that I didn't want to be terrified. I wanted to face the other side, whatever it may be, with quiet dignity. I'm not sure why it would even matter, after all dead is dead. But to me it's important.

So I made my mind go still and my body went completely limp. I felt the impact of the truck hitting my right hip. It was SMASH. As hard as I've ever been hit. I was flying through the air. I could hear people's voices going, "Oooooooooo," all around me. I kept my eyes shut. My mind was miles away. I was on the ground. I opened my eyes. I was alive. I was hurt, but I knew immediately nothing was broken -- well maybe my hip, which really hurt. But I did a mental inventory and it all checked out OK.

A guy came up to me. He wasn't very tall. He was Hispanic and wearing a brown shirt, I think. He asked if I was OK and I said, "No." He said what can I do?" I said, "Call 911." Other people came up and asked if I was OK. Someone noticed there was blood on my head and asked if I was wearing a helmet. I said yes and someone held it up and it had a big chunk out of it and they said, "You were really lucky to be wearing this. Some guy farther away from me over on my right said, "You should get your head out of the road." I realized it was hanging upside down off the curb and my body was on the shoulder. So I scootched up. When I scootched, I had the opportunity to move and realized everything was working.

I told the people around me to just let me lie there until the paramedics came. I'd just taken a Red Cross course two months before and was all up-to-date on what to do. So there I was. I realized there were ants crawling all over me and they were biting me. I almost laughed. It was just one of those things. "I'm having a really bad day," I thought and smiled. I mean as bad days go, this one was really proving itself to be the Chuck Norris of bad days. I tired to get my cell phone out so I could call Rob, but I realized that the screen had been smashed -- it was in the pocket that was hit -- and without the screen, I had no idea who I was calling.

A paramedic approached me and asked if I was OK. I said my hip hurt and he said to just sit still. He said he was transporting a patient to Vista Del Mar, the local psychiatric facility, and according to California state law any paramedic on a non-emergency call must stop and give aid if he is first on the scene of an accident. So he pretty much stood there and told me not to move. The firefighters arrived next. The paramedic dude explained himself, so the firefighters took over. One of them said, "Did you know there are ants crawling all over you?" I said, "Yeah could you brush them off please. I feel like I'm in Hell right now." He smiled and brushed them off.

The other paramedics arrived and I got the same old questions, "How old? How tall? how much do you weigh? Did you lose consciousness? Does your back hurt? Can you move your legs?" They tried to sit me up, but as soon as they did I got really dizzy. I told them to put me down, that I was getting shocky. I could just tell. I was losing sensation in my extremities and starting to get really cold and shivery, all signs of shock. So they put me down and lifted me onto the board and strapped me in. They lifted me into the ambulance and I was strapped in there. They put in an IV because of the shocky-ness and gave me a blanket. It was kind of wobbly as we drove; I kept having to brace myself. The paramedic gave me her cell phone so I could call Rob.

She actually placed the call and asked for him. I told him I'd been hit by a truck and was heading to Community Memorial. He said he'd meet me there.

The rest of the night was waiting. Waiting for the doctors. Waiting for the x-ray people. Nothing was broken, so they let me off the board. I'd been on it for almost four of the most excruciating hours of my life. I've talked to other people who've been on the board and they say the same thing. It may well save lives, but damned, it's painfully uncomfortable.

The care was sporadic. A nurse would come in and maybe wipe off a small part of my road rash, then she'd take off. Rob finally got the wipes down and did it himself, thank God he did because I never got any infection. The doctor finally gave me a pain shot and they sent me home. It was hard to walk. I was pretty beat up. We stopped by the pharmacy and got Vicodin and some antibiotic ointment and headed home.

The next few weeks were a haze of pain, sleeping, limping. I saw my doctor and with nothing obviously wrong, we decided to wait and see what ended up shaking out. I mean at first everything hurt so much, it was hard to tell what was wrong where. He wasn't happy with my swollen ankle, so he gave me a referral for that and a referral for physical therapy. I also stopped by a lawyer's office.

As I've documented before, the swollen ankle turned out to be a ruptured tendon, which required surgery Sept. 14. My foot has healed as well as can be expected, maybe even better. But it's still swollen and tender and the doctor said I'll have to expect that. Tendon repair is very painful and takes a long time. I also have a titanium peg in my ankle to straighten it up.

My left knee, which was hurt when the bike slammed into it, has broken bone fragments, a torn meniscus and all kinds of other problems. The doctor took one look at the films and said knee replacement, but now he's thinking arthroscopic to start, which is fine with me because so far things have turned out better when they've gotten into them. My foot doctor was pretty grim about my foot, but said the tendon was actually cleanly torn and easy to repair. The doctor who drained the hemotoma on my hip -- I've had huge lump on my hip for over six months -- was pleased to see that the fluid hadn't jelled, requiring more extensive surgery -- although now I have a lovely fat lump on my hip -- sexy. I see the knee doctor after Christmas and we'll set surgery then.

This whole thing has proven so much harder than I would ever have imagined. The part that's the worst is the long, drawn-out process it all is. I'm just so over it all and ready to move on with my life.

So bascially to sum it up, if you want my opinion about getting hit by a truck, I'd have to say ... it's best to avoid it.