Updates from Recovery Road
In my last post, I wondered if another update would be relevant. I had not fully considered the whole picture of my recovery. As an optimist, I tend to want to share only the best news. Yet, with time, I am beginning to accept that some traumas take an indirect course. My accident on May 15 forever changed my life. With some wisdom from Dr. Tara Brach, I am confronting this reality with Radical Acceptance. Some of the physical repercussions of my broken body will always be with me. My heart, too, has its own non-linear healing progression in returning to the road.
Beyond riding bikes again, I have still been dealing with ongoing medical concerns. After losing two temporary fillings to baguettes, I had another dentist’s appointment two weeks ago. I have now visited the good dentist almost six times in 6 months. Fortunately, he was a cyclist on my fateful M+M ride and offered to do my repair work pro bono. Beyond teeth, on my upper lip, there is still a visible slash and clumps of scar tissue underneath it. These issues are out of the dentist’s sphere, and I had to see a more special specialist. I requested an oral-facial consult from Grady, which took almost five months to receive. Finally, on November 3, I discussed with the young doctor the ongoing numbness in my upper lip and the dental pain and sensitivity I continue to have. Per the doctor’s advice, there is nothing to be done about the alternating pain and numbness. I was advised to massage my facial scars.
Next month, I have two more appointments with each of my surgeons, one for the hand and another for the foot. Each surgeon will take x-rays and test my range of motion. With my ongoing physical therapy, I have made generally good progress. I anticipated that my insurance would cover both types of therapy. But, just two weeks ago, I received an unexpected bill for my hand physical therapy from Emory; five visits are costing me over $800. Tender love and care (TLC) are not free!
The heart knows the need for TLC. My capacity for socializing in huge groups has been waning. My favorite Atlanta festival, Chomp & Stomp, was going on during a bright Saturday morning in Cabbagetown. I usually hop out of bed and run over there, but this time, I had mixed feelings about going (a premonition, perhaps?). After slowly deliberating, I pulled myself into motion and wandered down in the afternoon amid music and chili. Some favorite MWRollers were relaxing in the sun when I found them in Cabbagetown’s park. A few of us wanted to see the band Wasted Potential, so we joined the band in their parade for Dexter the Cat. In the crowd, I met a group of old Atlanta acquaintances. They had heard of my accident and were happy to see me stomping around. For a moment, I again felt surrounded by care and support.
In this human mélange, unexpectedly, I crossed paths with my bike assailant and the proximate cause of my crash. I said little about this individual in my prior posts for his safety. Let’s call this person JK. He did not just leave the accident scene (as some people asked); I am told he was around and tried to help. While JK was able to leave the site of the accident without an ambulance, he did also have a wrist injury. He later came to visit me in the hospital. In my wheelchair days, at JK’s insistence, I allowed him to see me at my home with a neutral party present. There, I asked him how to be accountable for putting me in this condition. He had no answer. A lawsuit was not an option for me. Though his random meal delivery was one gesture, he has not offered nor provided any form of financial support for the injuries he caused. Nor has he shown any support for the myriad tasks that became my burden. When I saw him at Chomp & Stomp, I felt sick to my stomach. Therapy has helped me process some of my feelings. Still, I was raw after I saw him hanging out in the parade with some of our mutual friends. Balancing between civility and rage is difficult. I returned to my bike posse and danced about while Wasted Potential played.
Last month, with two others, I brought a bike-themed camp to Alchemy, Atlanta’s Regional Burning Man event. We brought bikes to share! It was cathartic and beautiful to see other people riding around on bikes. It was a boon to those with mobility issues. For me, riding in a car-free space was also glorious. After getting messed up in a very public accident, I am learning what it feels like to be called out in public. At Alchemy, a cyclist rode by me, pointed, and yelled: “You’re that girl from M+M.” I never knew what it was like to be a celebrity. Occasionally, such a comment seems like an accusation. I wonder, was my accident the reason that the Monday ride ended? In time, I have expanded my heart by trying to handle such comments gracefully.
Among the recent rides with MWR, I met a few new-to-me cyclists who had heard about my accident. It still surprises me when people know me by my name and the details of my story. I have come to welcome the opportunity to share a bit about my recovery and discuss what it feels like to be back on the road. I now wear special compression socks and occasionally a wristband for support. I still feel a sense of anxiety behind the handlebars. Yet, I persist cautiously.
Despite the known dangers, some people still put others in precarious situations during group rides. I am much more careful about my surroundings now. I mainly keep a healthy distance from assholes. Irrespective of riding experience, no one can predict the behavior of riders around them, the trajectory of vehicles, or the impact of Atlanta’s potholes. I actively avoid people doing tricks like placing their feet on handlebars while riding or demonstrating hands-free balance. Surprisingly, one of these assholes has a deep knowledge of the consequences of my spill. It is callously self-centered to endanger others to show off. Does maturity ever counteract braggadocio and selfishness? Alas, some people just want to fuck around and find out.
As I anticipated in my first post, the path of recovery involves humility and education. Essentially, I learn and relearn the lessons of Radical Acceptance. I may not be able to persuade an individual to be less self-centered. But I can adjust my life to avoid the carelessness of others. Out of love for those who helped me heal, I will do my best to move forward with integrity and care. While I ride and share my experience, I aim to remain respectful within my community. There continue to be plenty of opportunities for mischief, camaraderie and laughs. I look forward to nourishing those moments while keeping limb and life safe.
Thank you, May! All your good cheer is boosting the healing!
Minor yet meaningful typo above! Those are baby sumo wrestlers. NOT Buddhas.