I think there’s a good chance I may have a genetic deficiency when it comes to bike-riding.
My visiting uncle was telling me about my other uncle who lives in Sabah, Malaysia. Two years ago he had a horrifying accident in which like me, he rode his bike (in his case a motorcycle) into a fast-moving truck. However his injuries were far worse than mine.
Not only did he break the top half of his left leg, the bottom half of his right leg was completely torn open. The skin and muscle ripped up, and the bones in shards. He was in a coma for several days after the accident, and the doctors told his family they should prepare for the worse.
Thankfully he survived, but has spent the last 1.5 years in hospital! As his bones painfully grow back, he has had countless operations, and has not been allowed to move from the bed all all, during all those months. His legs are permanently set in a giant, metal brace. And there is pain, all the time.
He has recently been allowed to return home, but he is still bed-ridden, and likely to be so for a couple more years.
I was deeply shocked. My father had told me about the accident, but I had no idea how bad it was.
Being a patient isn’t easy. It’s entirely unnatural to be lying on your back 24/7. Day in day out. Week after week. Month after month. Your entire universe has shrunk to the space enclosed in four walls. Your work life, your social life, your outdoor life? Say goodbye to them all.
And you’re so, incredibly, dependent! You are in a perpetual state of gratefulness, to the family members and friends who must do everything for you, cleaning, cooking, shopping, and keeping you company. You hate having to meekly begin every second sentence with, “can you please do me a favour?” and when the answer is no, there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. (Such as the way my mother is keeping ALL sweets away from me at the moment.)
I am not suffering at the moment, other than an insane itch I’m not allowed to scratch, at the wound on my upper thigh where they took undamaged skin to graft to my foot. I’m not even bored, in fact I’m quite busy having set myself Spanish homework each day. I have also been reading books, practicing meditation and knitting! But for me, the end is nigh, I believe I only have a few more weeks left, so the total recovery time will be just over two months.
But I can’t imagine what it’s like for my uncle. Apparently he’s often in a temper, and I can understand why. I think it’d be hard not to go mad after such a prolonged ordeal!
Oh yeah and when I ran the theory, that we’re genetically BAD with BIKES, by my brother, he confessed that last December while he was living in Japan he fell off his bicycle. I was like “SEE?!!” He said, “yeah, but I was drunk. I was riding home, and then I closed my eyes for a bit, and suddenly swerved off the road and crashed.”
It’s official. TANS are simply not meant to be on bikes.
