On being indestructible
Short version: I was hit by a taxi. I'm generally okay.
Long version: So, there I was, on my bike, not even a mile from my house, pedaling my piggy legs off to get to work. The bike path is heavily protected from traffic except at intersections, and as with any crosswalk, pedestrians/bikers and cars are both given a green light when traveling in the same direction. This is, as any New Yorker knows, only a problem when cars turning into the crosswalk don't pay attention. As I pedaled out into the crosswalk (legally, mind you), a cab came barreling through the intersection, having turned right on a green light (as he should have) without looking as to WHO was in the crosswalk (as he should NOT have). I shouted repeatedly and rang my bell (hah), but he did not hear me, and I was unable to evade him by the time I realized he wasn't stopping. He hit me. Hard. I slid down his hood onto the ground, beneath my bike, and after righting my helmet (which was now askew) and flexing my toes and fingers, I stood up and shouted, "Are you f*cking kidding me?" while standing in the middle of the lane. I may have anger management issues. A custodian at the school on that corner came running over, having heard the whole thing. Two traffic cops working the busy intersection came running over, having seen the whole thing. The cab driver got out of the cab and claimed he didn't see a thing. "I didn't mean to!" he said. While I'm sure that's true (who wakes up and says, "Today I'm going to hit a cyclist!"), it is irrelevant.
The kind custodian picked up my (mangled) bike and my backpack and helped me to the curb. The taxi driver pulled his car over, crushing my water bottle, which had been thrown free of its cage, in the process. The traffic cops got all the driver's information for me, so I didn't have to focus too much. I called my boss, maybe cried a little out of shock (okay, definitely cried a little) and told him I'd be late. The custodian at this point had rallied his buddies and now there were three of them. One was sent on an errand to bring me bottled water, which he did, and he shortly left again only to return with two bags of ice for me. In recounting this, I get misty, because I am regularly touched by the kindness of strangers in this city. These three gentlemen, along with the two traffic officers, stayed with me until the ambulance arrived, and then the custodians took my bike, saying they'd hold it in the school until later, so I didn't have to worry about it with the hospital visit.
Now, at first, I said I didn't need an ambulance. I'm a strapping young girl and obviously I was not damaged too badly, as I was able to get up and walk around (and wildly gesticulate and swear) without difficulty. My gathering peanut gallery, however, encouraged me to go, since you never know what you've bumped, and since his insurance would pay for it anyway if we filed a police report. Which we did. The supervisor of the two traffic cops showed up, just to make sure they'd done what they needed to do, and then the reporting officer showed up and took my information, giving me a number to call tomorrow to get the incident number (which I assume I will use when I call this cab driver's insurance company). The EMTs asked if I wanted to go to the hospital and I said I figured I ought to, though I felt generally okay, and they said that it's procedure to put me in a collar and on a board. "Sometimes it kinda freaks people out. Are you going to be okay with that?" I assured him I'm not the freaking-out type and if that's what he had to do, so be it. He sat for a while, holding the collar, with me sitting on the ground, and I asked what the hold-up was. "We need a longer board." I told him I was unaware I was such a giant, and he laughed and said I could, if I wanted to, sign a form waiving them from any responsibility for NOT collaring me and putting me on the board. I told him that was just fine, and I was helped into the aid car.
I answered some more questions and one of the EMTs assessed my injuries, which are as follows: large, still-swelling bruise on outside of right leg, just below the knee; large abrasion on right hip, likely point of impact with car hood and then ground; long scrape on inside of left thigh; mid-size still-swelling bruise on inside of left shin; abraded right elbow, inside and out; damaged left thumb nail, bleeding from below; sprained left thumb. It was an uneventful ride to Downtown New York Hospital, which is below the Brooklyn Bridge. I was carted into triage in a wheelchair, clutching my busted helmet (Mama didn't raise no stupid children) and backpack. We sat for ages and I joked with my EMTs that I had no idea this is how they spent their workdays: standing around the hospital. Their knowing looks told me I wasn't far from the truth. Eventually I was taken to a proper waiting area and the EMTs left. Fortunately, I had a borrowed Kindle with me (which didn't suffer any damage!) and was able to read The Handmaid's Tale while I waited. Eventually a no-nonsense admitting nurse pulled me into a room and took my vitals while jawing with her coworker who told the story of a squirrel that daily tears through her window screen and comes into her house, presumably to eat the two pounds of biscotti and two boxes of fresh mangoes she keeps on the kitchen table. I suggested that maybe the squirrel was in love with her.
Shortly I was wheeled in to see a PA, who glanced at my bruises and then pressed gently around my thumb. Though he did not think it was broken, he called for an x-ray, handed me an ice pack to hold onto my thumb, and told me to wait for a radiology tech to pick me up. I made friends with her quickly and she told me that I was the second cyclist they'd had in that morning, and that I looked much, much better than the other guy. I asked if he'd been wearing a helmet, and she said she wasn't sure, but he did have injuries to his head, so perhaps not. I said a brief prayer for him that he would recover his health and his common sense. After taking three x-rays, the tech (against protocol) showed me the preliminary scans and then told me not to tell the doctor she'd done it. I was glad to see my ability to charm medical professionals was not damaged in the accident.
The PA returned, said the x-rays look fine, and told me to keep my scrapes clean and dry, icing as needed. I asked if I could see the x-rays on his computer (the radiology tech told me the doctors' computers have better resolution), so he pulled me into the nurse's station to look. I asked what the small lump at the top of one of my thumb bones was, and he pointed to another bone in the palm of my hand and said, "Oh, sometimes bones just...grow a little extra. Like yours has here. And here." I told him that I was unsurprised to hear this; given that my kidney had extra veins and arteries, it's not shocking that my bones have extra bones. And with that, I was on my way, more than a little taken aback that no one had bothered to bandage me up at all (or even really clean my wounds after the cursory dabbing I was given in the ambulance). That's New York for you.
I walked out of the hospital, a bit gingerly, and thanked the Lord that it was hot but not TOO hot. Mike was called in for a last-minute freelance job at his old company today, so I popped in to say hi and reassure him that I was fine (my phone call that started with "Don't freak out...I was hit by a car" was, as you may imagine, not terribly calming). We left together to grab lunch, and once home gobbled sandwiches. As he went to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water, the glass slipped and shattered into a frillion-jillion pieces. In the process of sweeping and vacuuming them up, he cut his hand open. Fortunately, I was in the middle of dressing my own wounds, so I brought him some gauze and when he'd finished tidying the kitchen, he patched himself up in short order.
And now, alone, I sit in my apartment, aching quite a bit. Typing this took a very long time, as my thumb hurts a good deal and I can't rest my arms on the desk because of my elbow scrapes. My plan for today is to take a nap and then bake some cookies, which I will take to the custodians at the school tomorrow morning. I also intend to call their supervisor and let him know their kindness was much appreciated. Good people should be thanked properly.
So, I'm fine. I'm not comfortable, and I'm not going to be feeling great for several days, but my neck and back appear (at this point) to be unaffected, and I am quite thankful for this. Mike and I talked a little about the cab driver, and how both of us hope that his family (if he has one) doesn't suffer too much as a result, though I can't feel too badly about a driver receiving a reprimand for hitting someone -- anyone -- particularly in a school zone. I'm thankful he hit me and not a child, of which there were many trundling by at the time.
And now, I nap.
Long version: So, there I was, on my bike, not even a mile from my house, pedaling my piggy legs off to get to work. The bike path is heavily protected from traffic except at intersections, and as with any crosswalk, pedestrians/bikers and cars are both given a green light when traveling in the same direction. This is, as any New Yorker knows, only a problem when cars turning into the crosswalk don't pay attention. As I pedaled out into the crosswalk (legally, mind you), a cab came barreling through the intersection, having turned right on a green light (as he should have) without looking as to WHO was in the crosswalk (as he should NOT have). I shouted repeatedly and rang my bell (hah), but he did not hear me, and I was unable to evade him by the time I realized he wasn't stopping. He hit me. Hard. I slid down his hood onto the ground, beneath my bike, and after righting my helmet (which was now askew) and flexing my toes and fingers, I stood up and shouted, "Are you f*cking kidding me?" while standing in the middle of the lane. I may have anger management issues. A custodian at the school on that corner came running over, having heard the whole thing. Two traffic cops working the busy intersection came running over, having seen the whole thing. The cab driver got out of the cab and claimed he didn't see a thing. "I didn't mean to!" he said. While I'm sure that's true (who wakes up and says, "Today I'm going to hit a cyclist!"), it is irrelevant.
The kind custodian picked up my (mangled) bike and my backpack and helped me to the curb. The taxi driver pulled his car over, crushing my water bottle, which had been thrown free of its cage, in the process. The traffic cops got all the driver's information for me, so I didn't have to focus too much. I called my boss, maybe cried a little out of shock (okay, definitely cried a little) and told him I'd be late. The custodian at this point had rallied his buddies and now there were three of them. One was sent on an errand to bring me bottled water, which he did, and he shortly left again only to return with two bags of ice for me. In recounting this, I get misty, because I am regularly touched by the kindness of strangers in this city. These three gentlemen, along with the two traffic officers, stayed with me until the ambulance arrived, and then the custodians took my bike, saying they'd hold it in the school until later, so I didn't have to worry about it with the hospital visit.
Now, at first, I said I didn't need an ambulance. I'm a strapping young girl and obviously I was not damaged too badly, as I was able to get up and walk around (and wildly gesticulate and swear) without difficulty. My gathering peanut gallery, however, encouraged me to go, since you never know what you've bumped, and since his insurance would pay for it anyway if we filed a police report. Which we did. The supervisor of the two traffic cops showed up, just to make sure they'd done what they needed to do, and then the reporting officer showed up and took my information, giving me a number to call tomorrow to get the incident number (which I assume I will use when I call this cab driver's insurance company). The EMTs asked if I wanted to go to the hospital and I said I figured I ought to, though I felt generally okay, and they said that it's procedure to put me in a collar and on a board. "Sometimes it kinda freaks people out. Are you going to be okay with that?" I assured him I'm not the freaking-out type and if that's what he had to do, so be it. He sat for a while, holding the collar, with me sitting on the ground, and I asked what the hold-up was. "We need a longer board." I told him I was unaware I was such a giant, and he laughed and said I could, if I wanted to, sign a form waiving them from any responsibility for NOT collaring me and putting me on the board. I told him that was just fine, and I was helped into the aid car.
I answered some more questions and one of the EMTs assessed my injuries, which are as follows: large, still-swelling bruise on outside of right leg, just below the knee; large abrasion on right hip, likely point of impact with car hood and then ground; long scrape on inside of left thigh; mid-size still-swelling bruise on inside of left shin; abraded right elbow, inside and out; damaged left thumb nail, bleeding from below; sprained left thumb. It was an uneventful ride to Downtown New York Hospital, which is below the Brooklyn Bridge. I was carted into triage in a wheelchair, clutching my busted helmet (Mama didn't raise no stupid children) and backpack. We sat for ages and I joked with my EMTs that I had no idea this is how they spent their workdays: standing around the hospital. Their knowing looks told me I wasn't far from the truth. Eventually I was taken to a proper waiting area and the EMTs left. Fortunately, I had a borrowed Kindle with me (which didn't suffer any damage!) and was able to read The Handmaid's Tale while I waited. Eventually a no-nonsense admitting nurse pulled me into a room and took my vitals while jawing with her coworker who told the story of a squirrel that daily tears through her window screen and comes into her house, presumably to eat the two pounds of biscotti and two boxes of fresh mangoes she keeps on the kitchen table. I suggested that maybe the squirrel was in love with her.
Shortly I was wheeled in to see a PA, who glanced at my bruises and then pressed gently around my thumb. Though he did not think it was broken, he called for an x-ray, handed me an ice pack to hold onto my thumb, and told me to wait for a radiology tech to pick me up. I made friends with her quickly and she told me that I was the second cyclist they'd had in that morning, and that I looked much, much better than the other guy. I asked if he'd been wearing a helmet, and she said she wasn't sure, but he did have injuries to his head, so perhaps not. I said a brief prayer for him that he would recover his health and his common sense. After taking three x-rays, the tech (against protocol) showed me the preliminary scans and then told me not to tell the doctor she'd done it. I was glad to see my ability to charm medical professionals was not damaged in the accident.
The PA returned, said the x-rays look fine, and told me to keep my scrapes clean and dry, icing as needed. I asked if I could see the x-rays on his computer (the radiology tech told me the doctors' computers have better resolution), so he pulled me into the nurse's station to look. I asked what the small lump at the top of one of my thumb bones was, and he pointed to another bone in the palm of my hand and said, "Oh, sometimes bones just...grow a little extra. Like yours has here. And here." I told him that I was unsurprised to hear this; given that my kidney had extra veins and arteries, it's not shocking that my bones have extra bones. And with that, I was on my way, more than a little taken aback that no one had bothered to bandage me up at all (or even really clean my wounds after the cursory dabbing I was given in the ambulance). That's New York for you.
I walked out of the hospital, a bit gingerly, and thanked the Lord that it was hot but not TOO hot. Mike was called in for a last-minute freelance job at his old company today, so I popped in to say hi and reassure him that I was fine (my phone call that started with "Don't freak out...I was hit by a car" was, as you may imagine, not terribly calming). We left together to grab lunch, and once home gobbled sandwiches. As he went to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water, the glass slipped and shattered into a frillion-jillion pieces. In the process of sweeping and vacuuming them up, he cut his hand open. Fortunately, I was in the middle of dressing my own wounds, so I brought him some gauze and when he'd finished tidying the kitchen, he patched himself up in short order.
And now, alone, I sit in my apartment, aching quite a bit. Typing this took a very long time, as my thumb hurts a good deal and I can't rest my arms on the desk because of my elbow scrapes. My plan for today is to take a nap and then bake some cookies, which I will take to the custodians at the school tomorrow morning. I also intend to call their supervisor and let him know their kindness was much appreciated. Good people should be thanked properly.
So, I'm fine. I'm not comfortable, and I'm not going to be feeling great for several days, but my neck and back appear (at this point) to be unaffected, and I am quite thankful for this. Mike and I talked a little about the cab driver, and how both of us hope that his family (if he has one) doesn't suffer too much as a result, though I can't feel too badly about a driver receiving a reprimand for hitting someone -- anyone -- particularly in a school zone. I'm thankful he hit me and not a child, of which there were many trundling by at the time.
And now, I nap.