29
Sep 22

This is a recovery week – Thursday

She did great, but today got out of control in a hurry.

Much like when the driver of the red pickup truck cut off my wife and caused her to crash her bike at about 25 miles per hour.

This morning, one doctor’s office visit and an X-ray turned into a surgical consult. We’d been hoping that the collarbone would settle itself down, but the past week, the relaxation of the muscles and all of that, have actually shown the true extent of the problem. The first doctor was — what was that reaction? Appalled, Stunned? Crestfallen? — a bit shaken by today’s X-ray. What the pictures said was that surgery is the right answer. Avoiding surgery, at this point, is a game of chance, but, really, delaying the inevitable.

The doctor says, “I’ll let you think about it.”

Not that there’s much to think about, really. Young and active and planning on staying that way, the best outcome is the one you want. That’s definitely surgery. The surgical outcome is far more controlled. But, for a week, she’d been hoping to avoid that.

It’s funny, you spend a week trying to will something to happen, gritting through terrible pain, and then one photo that makes the point, clear as day. The space between the bone fragments was large enough to write “surgery” in a substantial font.

I’m not sure how many sentences we’d gotten into the subsequent “think about it” conversation when he came back into the exam room.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

And that was when the day turned into a sprint. If there’s a surgery, someone should come into town to help out. Her mom will be on the next plane. We need to get her from the airport. Arrangements made. Arrangements changed.

There needs to be some straightening up around the house, then. New sheets on the guest bed. Floors vacuumed. Room made in the closet. Extra bathroom opened. Coffee purchased. And and and. I’m also still in a quixotic campaign to get her painkiller prescription refilled.

The surgical center called. There had been a cancellation, can we come even earlier? We could and we did. There was scarcely time to think or react. We just did, all day. Maybe it is better that way. Less thinking and worrying and fretting.

Because there hasn’t been enough of that in the last week.

And so I found myself sitting in the foyer between the waiting room and the carport of the surgical center, answering work email, because that’s what important right then, I guess. What else was I going to do?

She did great and she’s doing great. But that’s why there’s not more here.

But don’t forget: Catober begins this weekend.


28
Sep 22

This is a recovery week – Wednesday

A bit better than yesterday, I think. We’re six days into a weeks-long recovery process. And hopefully it’ll stay progressive throughout. Slow and steady wins the race and avoids unnecessary setbacks.

There’s not much else going on right now, other than careful resting and healing.

But the weather is lovely. Enjoy this photo of a maple leaf floating through the back yard. Got lucky catching it in mid-flight, right?

So the light week continues, but we’ll have something here tomorrow, I’m sure.

And don’t forget: Catober begins this weekend.


27
Sep 22

This is a recovery week – Tuesday

The Yankee is slowly on the mend. We’ve developed a fairly decent routine for each day, part of the short-term education process when you can’t use one arm or bear any weight in your good hand. But we’re making do. I’m fretting over her and have managed to avoid bumping her arm or otherwise giving her any extra pain. Ribs and a collarbone are bad enough without the help.

But there’s not much else going on right now.

The weather this week remains in the chamber of commerce category. (Maybe it’ll stay like this until next March!) Late in the afternoon we sat on the deck for a bit. Getting outside is a part of the recovery process.

So it is a light week, content-wise, as you can tell.

But don’t forget: Catober begins this weekend.


26
Sep 22

This is a recovery week – Monday

My lovely bride is mitigating pain, learning what doesn’t hurt and not moving much this week. I’m doing the chores and waiting to see how long it takes to test her patience. I’m worrying over her a lot is what I’m saying.

So there’s not much else going on right now.

But the weather is lovely. Enjoy this photo of the maple in the back yard. We sat on the deck for a few minutes, just to give her a change of pace. Apparently the wicker furniture isn’t entirely uncomfortable.

I’ll try to put a little something here each day, but it’ll be a light week.

And don’t forget: Catober begins this weekend.


23
Sep 22

Visited an ortho this morning

Last night was a fairly sleepless night, I think. The painkillers seemed more like pain ticklers. But we had an early morning appointment, and that brought out two trips to the biggest pharmacy in town — and several phone calls with the doctor’s offices and the insurance company because, the best I can tell, American healthcare — and drugs that can get the job done.

The Yankee had more X-rays following her bike crash last evening. And they all confirmed how lucky we are.

To recap: some jerk cut her off and she crashed her bike to avoid hitting his red pickup truck. There are witnesses. So we spent most of the night in the ER, and the rest of the night in the drive through of the pharmacy.

She has a few broken bones. This we knew. Two ribs will heal on their own in time, and we knew that. The particular ribs were an initial worry yesterday, because they often lead to other damage, but that’s not the case here. Today’s doctor visit was to consult a specialist about her collarbone, which is also broken.

More X-rays were taken. After several painful rounds of that, the doctor thinks that she might be able to avoid surgery. (Which, having had that surgery myself, I say “Good!”) We’ll go back for more scans next week. And, for the next while we’re just gritting through everything, moving slowly, using one hand, and finding out that there’s no position that is actually comfortable.

And counting our blessings.

Let’s look at her helmet.

By the way, never buy a used helmet. Not all helmets are made the same, some are better than others. Like most anything these days, there are tiers to modern helmets in terms of price and tech and protection, but all helmets on the market have to pass certain minimum standards. The Smith Ignite MIPS Helmet you see here is a good aero helmet.

And should you crash your helmet, retire it and get another one. Also, depending on who you ask, it’s a good thing to upgrade every three-to-five years because of age or heat or sun damage. There’s no real consensus opinion on their lifespan, but three-to-five years are the most agreed upon windows.

This is the left side of her helmet. All of the scratches on the polycarbonate shell came from this accident.

This part is important. The shell on this helmet is molded to the expanded polystyrene foam, but you see where that got ruptured in the crash. This would be just above the left ear.

Here’s the overhead view, with the rider facing the top of the shot. There are some impressive gouges and scratches across the crown of the helmet. All of this, of course, means the helmet is doing it’s job. The helmet gets eaten up by the road so your cranium doesn’t.

See this cracking in the EPS foam? That’s not supposed to be there. That’s crash damage.

Again, better the helmet than the head. Here’s another view of where the EPS foam was destroyed. The green stuff, the straw looking stuff, or the honeycomb stuff, is called Koroyd. This stuff is designed to crumple on impact and absorb crash force in a controlled manner, minimizing energy to the noggin.

The point of this is plastic deformation. Look at how it got squished up. The Koroyd did it’s job.

Altogether, it seems the many bits of technology in this helmet worked. You can see a fair amount of damage, and no head trauma.

A guy in a truck caused this wreck. A helmet very well might have kept it from being a life-changing wreck.

Be kind to cyclists; wear a helmet.