19 januari 2006 Archives

Tomorrow will be three weeks since Vespa go boom. My good friend Crashiepoo emailed me a couple of days ago and implied that “being scared shitless” would be an entirely acceptable reaction to the whole ordeal.

Here's a recap:

• 17th Street MUNI rails derail me.
• Vespa goes down the street on its side
• I go down the street at an angle, the tire of a parked car graciously stopping me by thudding haltingly into my left ribs
• beautiful, wonderful San Franciscans come to my aid.
• Medics take me to San Francisco General Hospital
• Firemen take my Vespa to Firehouse #6
• Mmmmmmmm, fireminz

• I am in hospital for more than a week, to the following Saturday, January 7
• For the first three days in SFGH, I am on morphine with a PCA button for extra boluses
• For the remainder, I am on vicodin and “morphini's”
• I am still taking Vicodin, though a weaning off of it was interrupted by a sinus thing and sneezing
• Sneezing? It fucking hurts when you have three fractured ribs!
• I drove today for the first time. It hurt my shoulder

I mention all this because I wasn't ever scared shitless until I noticed that my helmet somehow found its way back to my house—Sam is literally right now telling me how it got home. I guess we had a conversation about it my first day in the hospital, but I absolutely don't remember it.

And, to be precise, it wasn't when I noticed the helmet, it was when I noticed the scratches on the helmet. Click on the image for more detail.

Had I not been wearing the helmet, who knows how much of my face 17th Street would have nabbed. Had I not been wearing the helmet, I'm sure my head would have landed hard on the pavement. I mean, so much of my identity is tied up in being a pretty man, what kind of therapy would I have had to go through to live without that going for me? Huh? HUH?

Ahem.

So I did get scared about all of this, but much after the fact. Sam's been driving me around and I'm very skittish in traffic. I look at rails and it takes a second to reassure myself I'm in a car and not on two wheels. The Vespa shop called today with news about my P200E, and my first reaction was “not yet!”

Last week I did manage to pick up my bifocals progressive-lens glasses. There's a pic there for you to see.

The visible/tangible/physical injuries are well on their way to healing. The intangibles are now making themselves evident now that the narcotic fog has lifted. I'm sure those will heal in time. My sense of abundance is making itself evident as well. That'll help.

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