The Oracle of Apollo
Snippets from the life of Apollo Lee

Last night, after advice from Emmett and Geri, I decided I should go to the hospital today. The driver called me yesterday as I rode home from the crash (as gingerly as I could given that I still wasn’t sure how injured I am) and let me know that she was going to go on vacation with her family today. Seems like it might take some time to get this all dealt with.

I headed to Sunnyvale’s Urgent Care clinic, aware that there was some kind of program for people with no income (I’m currently “between opportunities”). On the way there, I was passed by a sidewalk bicycle rider — wearing headphones, but no helmet, wobblingly riding down the sidewalk on the left side of the street, paying no attention to anything, blowing a red light and a “Don’t Walk” sign — and thought how ironic it is that someone completely oblivious to her own safety is riding along and I, an extremely competent transportational cyclist, am going to the hospital. After talking to a nice lady down there, I was informed that it would probably be best to get back on the train and head for San Mateo, since I am a current resident of San Mateo County.

So, I jumped back on the train and headed for San Mateo. It was getting toward afternoon at this point and I wanted to get through with the visit so I could head down to Menlo Park, get my bike, and do my miles. Since the Same Day Care clinic at San Mateo County General Hospital is almost always booked solid by 8 in the morning, I had to go to the emergency room.

They took x-rays of my chest and my right hand and wrist. The diagnosis: chest wall contusion, severe right hand/wrist strain (can’t rule out fracture). Since the physician’s assistant on duty could not rule out a fracture, I was placed in an immobilizing splint, which hardened like a cast and was wrapped in ace bandage. Fuck.

I now have an orthopedist’s appointment on August 9 and cannot remove this thing until then. My ribs hurt like hell and so does my injured arm, but I thought I was only sprained. No getting wet, no getting sweaty, and certainly no bicycling. I can’t play video games, write, type very well, work, dance, or play any musical instruments. Damn.

I left the hospital with a bag of drugs (Ibuprofen and Vicodin), and got back on the train for my journey home. I’m pretty pissed that I’m being couched for the stupidity of someone else. I really need to be on my bike.

Well, let’s hope nothing is broken. Now, I guess I’ll just have to be content watching my movies again and again.

Green light. Hammer, hammer, hammer. 18, 21, 23, let’s get that kick going. Middlefield Road, about 6:25 this afternoon. I’m humming along with traffic, doing 24 miles an hour. I’m three or four feet from the curb, where I should be. Middlefield is narrow and I’m cruising, as usual, down the right side of the traffic lane. Then, it happened.

I was almost killed.

A car turned sharply off Middlefield onto Lincoln. It didn’t signal right, so I had no advance warning. It crossed my path, I yelped out a quick “hey!” and the rest is a blur. In order to avoid eating the cars spoiler, I veered right, grabbing my brakes, and flying over the handlebars. I distinctly remember the car running over my left pinky and ring fingers. It didn’t seem to hurt at all.

The lady who lives at the corner rushed out with a cordless phone. “The 911 operator wants to know if you need an ambulance,” she reported. A nice man came over and advised me to stay on the ground as he picked my warrior steed out of the street. The driver pulled over and came over to check on me.

Damage to me: scuff on the forehead above my right eyebrow, contusions on the inside portion of right wrist, soreness (sprain?) on thumb and outside of right wrist and hand, lacerations on right elbow, right arm, right inside wrist (glove scarring), lacerations over entire right side from cycling jersey through shorts into legs, right calf, heavy lacerations on both knees, smallish abrasions on left side, and soreness in chest around where I absorbed my 170 pounds of weight.

Damage to bicycle: left bar end shorn off, rear rack bent (needs replaced), back red blinking light destroyed, possible hub wobble, possible spoke damage, cycling jersey, cycling shorts.

Damage to cycling chart: 22 miles.

When I got home, I noticed writing from her tire imprinted on the black road rash stain on my jersey. My roommate failed to get a clear picture of it, so that means I’m down to two jerseys, until this stuff is resolved. Such a perfect imprint in the jersey makes me bite my lip. That’s a 4000 pound automobile’s back tire. The one I thought I didn’t make contact with.

Holy fucking shit.