Last Bike Ride of the Year
by summerstormz4 on May 05, 2021, 02:34PM

Just when I think I have it all ready to go and can type my story out quick, “the pause” hits and I hesitate. Do I want to retell this again? And again? A month ago, two weeks ago and even last week I would have answered, “no” but today? I can do this. As many times as it takes if it helps resonate with even just one person out there thinking “no one gets me or this” because that was me: I was that same person thinking those same thoughts as I had no clue a website like this even existed. I was lost in a “system” that just considered me a patient number and never offered help. I’ll touch base on that too. Grab the popcorn as this is a little lengthy but only because I want you, the you who feels that nobody cares or understands your head space to know I care. This for anyone and for myself that I write this. So, thank you for reading. My story starts on September 7, 2020 when I took my Kawasaki Ninja out for a ride on a beautiful Michigan day. I was there visiting my boyfriend for Labor Day and was anxious to get my bike out on the road and get some Michigan miles on her. I have been riding for nearly 25 years so if you’re a rider you know that excitement and thrill you feel and even just the therapy riding provides. There’s nothing like it. This bike was also very special to me as I just finished a remodel on her myself and after adding a Delkavic exhaust she sounded like no other sport bike around. A few hours into my ride I was ready to head back and as I was rounding a curve to my next turn off, an F150 was in my lane and crashed right into me. Right. Into. Me. There was no time to do anything but get ready for impact and hope to god my helmet stayed on. Bear with me for the next few paragraphs as they are hard to write because I still see this young man’s face as he realized what was happening. I still hear everything too which is something I desperately wish would go away. I remember screaming inside my helmet. I don’t remember what I said. I remember hearing my bones break and the smell of gasoline and the sounds of metal being crunched like tin foil. I do not remember my helmet bouncing off of his hood, but I do remember the thought that damn…my son. I didn’t get to see him graduate. Or get married; have kids. Or even say goodbye. It’s hard to describe how these thoughts played out because time no longer meant anything to me in those seconds and it still doesn’t resonate with me. I just remember very specific feelings, sounds, smells and then nothingness. I opened my eyes and heard voices all around me, yet it sounded far away. Like through a tunnel or when you’re under water. I tried to move my head, but I was in a neck brace and had no idea I was. Intuition had me feeling something was very wrong, but my head was not reasoning logic. I had no idea what happened to me-all I knew what I that I started screaming because with each breath came these waves of excruciating pain. I was screaming for someone to talk to me, help me, hold on to me; everything and anything. A Sheriffs officer finally came over to me and kneeled beside me and I asked him to please hold my hand. For whatever reason that was my lifeline. I just had it in my head that if he held on to me, I was going to be ok; ok from what I didn’t know but ok. He talked to me and asked me my name and if I knew where my cell phone or ID was. I remember this garbled mess of words coming out of me like they were going 100mph-it didn’t even sound like me or even English. I tried talking again and it still wasn’t being understood and he told me to just hang on. I remember every detail of his face, but compassion and concern were at the forefront. Peoples voices were getting louder and I hear sirens. He looked at me and told me he wasn’t going to let go but that I was going to be lifted up into a gurney and that it was probably going to “hurt like hell” but that he had me and they were going to try to make it quick. Bless that man’s heart because I do actually remember what came out of my mouth next and my mother would have even blushed. Still not knowing the severity or actually anything yet, every single nerve in my body kind of felt like it had been struck with lightening. I think that got my attention and brought me back into the ‘now’ for a bit. I remember ambulance drivers apologizing everything I screamed. I remember that officer looking at me and telling me he was going to hand me off to the EMT who was going stay with me until we got to the hospital. He actually asked if it was ok to let go and for her to take my hand. That’s when one of my life savers grabbed onto my hand like a vice grip and told me to hang on because this was going to be the worst ride of my life. As we rode to hospital, I asked her to please tell me the truth in what happened. At that point I was present and needed some real answers. She told me I was in a very severe motorcycle accident and that I was strapped into a gurney very tightly as they weren’t all sure what was broken or severed. I remember that word like crazy: severed. Thank god she had the sense not to tell me anything else as I don’t think I could have processed it at the time. I was cold; shaking cold. And tired. She started saying my name a lot and then loudly and then I felt like someone pulled me out of a very deep sleep and all of this equipment was on me. She told me to stay with her. She had just resuscitated me. Life Saver-1. There was a point in our ride when she leaned in very close to me and told me to remember this conversation. To remember this moment in time. I shook my head ok. She told me when I got better, I was going to need to talk to someone about this accident and that it would help me. She told me she had been in a severe auto accident and that talking to a therapist helped her when she couldn’t help herself. I remember these words and her eyes and her hand still holding on to mine so vividly. I don’t remember the first hospital, but I do remember a lot of wind and more moving around and apologies for the pain. I was being life flighted to a bigger hospital at that point. My femur was snapped in half, my knee obliterated, my tibia and fibula bones broken in several spots and jutting through my leg out through my shin. My ankle was broken along with several toes, my ribs were all broken but for one and I was losing a lot of blood. My face above my eyebrow was severely cut due to my face shield imploding and cutting into my face and head. These are the injuries I heard over the radio being told to the ER as we were getting ready to land. The next thing I remember was a Doctor grabbing my hand and saying I was going to be ok; I was going to make it and she was going to be with me through it all. I was just tired at this point. Didn’t really care what anyone was telling me, nor did I understand the severity STILL of what was going on. I remember my sons voice telling me he loved me, my boyfriend’s tears falling on my face as he had to let go so they could move me into surgery. I remember the heavy feeling of sadness all over me. When I awoke again, I was in the trauma unit recovering from a 9-hour surgery that actually consisted of two surgeries; one to fix my femur with a titanium rod affixed with plates and screws along with my repairing what they could of my kneecap. The second surgery consisted of trying to repair my obliterated shin; more titanium rods, plates and screws for the entire length of both my tibia and fibula. My ankle was also fixated with three huge screws. I remember regretting opening my eyes in recovery because now it was real. And the pain just poured in all over me and wasn’t going to go away. Not even 8 months later and two more surgeries to repair my shin. I still have three active fractures that just are so stubborn to heal. My new ortho team here back home is so phenomenal. I am looking at a 5th surgery on my shin yet again as it just doesn’t want to cooperate and heal on its own. We are trying to avoid having to do a bone grafting surgery as that’s going to lay me up for quite a bit. I still cannot walk without the assistance of crutches or an orthotic boot. But here’s the message out of my story that I hope you, the reader, takes with you. They told me I’d be in a wheelchair and never walk again and at best I’d have to walk with the assistance of a walker. Nope. They also told me if I were able to use a walker, I may stand a chance with crutches but would probably not move beyond that. Nope. They told me I wouldn’t be able to walk without the assistance of crutches as my boot wouldn’t be enough to hold my weight on my right leg. NOPE. Now truthfully, I can’t take too many steps in my boot without feeling dramatic and wanting to throw myself on the couch, or my bed or anything other than standing up. These fractures let me know every day they are still there. However, no one knows what you are capable of more than you. And even you don’t quite know what you’re built of until you have to use that internal and external strength to MOVE. Also, there is very real depression, anxiety, ptsd, trauma and just emotional breakage that comes with this kind of an accident. Going from a very happy and content woman who’s never really had to deal with any of the aforementioned feelings or issues before; no one can really prepare you for what you will feel as we are all individually different. There was no help for me as I was booted out of a hospital in THREE DAYS to make room for other trauma unit patients that needed my bed. Covid was rampant and half the hospital was shut down. They literally hauled me out of bed, wheeled me into the bathroom and told me to go. If I could go, then I could make it at home (which was my boyfriend’s house). I was in shock from the absolute disregard to my current state but most especially my mental state. No one followed up on me or called to see if I was OK. NO. ONE. “The system” as I refer to it just let a patient go that was seriously suffering in pain and hadn’t even one clue as to what was going to come for me in the form of serious emotional trauma, mental distress and anxiety from people, sounds, crowds; pretty much everything. All I had was an appointment card to follow up with my orthopedic surgeon in two weeks to get my 81 staples removed. And even at that appointment no one asked about my mental state or if I needed to talk to someone. My boyfriend didn’t know. I didn’t know. We all thought my “moods” were from the accident and pain. I finally was aware enough of myself, through the haze of pain pills, that I needed someone to talk to because I was not feeling ok. It wasn’t suicidal. It was a deep feeling of pure panic and the feeling of wanting to just jump out of my own skin and run. I still can’t even tell you why. I just couldn’t be with my own self by myself. I called at least 10-15 different places after talking to my insurance company and every one of them had a 2-3 month waiting list. I said over and over ‘but you don’t understand….’ and if I wasn’t cut off mid-sentence, I was told due to Covid this and Covid that. I don’t know what the answer should have been. I just know that I never got help due to Covid, due to being out of state, due to waiting lists, due to referrals due to due to due to…..I never got help until the month of April 2021. 7 months after my accident. 7 months of being in the same month, the same day and same day of September 7. Every day it played out and still does. There were many times I felt myself being pulled into myself; like just going into a very quiet place and staying for a while. I swear the only thing I held on to were the thoughts of motherhood and what I owed to my son to stay HERE in the now. I grabbed onto myself and pulled myself up and out of my own head space; it was agonizing, lonely, desperate and something I never want anyone else to ever experience on their own. “The system” is quick to help those with physical injuries but when it comes to emotional or mental breakage, there is a huge flaw and overall attitude of not being taken seriously. Now that I am personally aware of this and am on the other side of this in having to help myself when I shouldn’t have, I want to help as many people as I can to not feel alone or feel misunderstood. Yes, we all deal with trauma differently; the point is we don’t have to deal with it alone or feel isolated. Being misunderstood and not taken seriously when mental health is on the line is one of the most neglectful and misunderstood feelings I have ever experienced. I still have approximately another year to go before I can walk on my own and for an adrenaline junkie who lived her life GO GO GO all the time and worked in the Motocross Industry as a PR rep for Monster Energy and Metal Mulisha, this accident has been the worst and best thing to happen to me. For obvious reasons, the worst due to so much of my body being broken and with that comes the pills needed to even get out of bed some days. With those heavy pain pills comes a different you. And that took some adjusting to. And still does. The point is, I need them, and they are the difference in whether I use crutches with a hand over my mouth, so I don’t scream in pain, or using one crutch with my boot to get around and tolerate it. The good that came from this is that I am somehow more self-aware and LIFE aware than I ever was before. I am able to talk about my feelings, cry in front of my friends and family and show real human emotion whereas before I was the girl always on the go, shoved any real meaningful thought deep down and lived my life in the fast lane working and raising my amazing son. Don’t get me wrong, I have always been a very thoughtful person, but I seemed to always been talking or listening to my friends or family as I was headed out the door. To a meeting. To an event. I’ve noticed real thought and effort and a genuine authentic concern or interest when I talk to my family and friends now. We have all gotten stronger in our relationships together. The relationship with my son has just….wow….turned into the one the most valued, deeply connected bonds that I’ve ever experienced. We went from typical mother and son to a dynamic duo who are best friends, mother and son and equals all at the same time. It’s hard to explain. He has walked this journey with me from day one and for a 15 year old has seen way too much, experienced way too much yet has taken those life lessons and applied them in a way that has enabled to navigate home life, school and life in general like it’s just easy. And I know it’s not. Yet he never complains or sighs when I ask for something or need help. He didn’t ask to have all of my responsibilities dumped on him, yet he acts as if this life that we live now is completely normal and I know it’s not. He has shown me that all that really matters is we are here together on this road even though it’s a road we have never been down. I finally feel as if “yeah, life is good because we are here together”. I still go to therapy once a week, journaling is helping tremendously, and walking is a challenge. I actually cracked my first real joke about not being able to run the other day and everyone got really quiet. I had to assure them it was ok-I was joking. I got my horrible timing of joking back and that is when you know you are on the other side. Thanks for listening. I hope this somehow helps you.