I managed another run yesterday, one of my more unusual ones I would have to say. I decided to return the car a day early as I wasn't going to need it today. So I figured, why waste money on a taxi to get back to Peter and Kate's place. I bet there aren't too many people who can say they have run from Tullamarine International Airport into Melbourne (well, West Brunswick at least, not quite the CBD, but close enough). In the end it was a 1:40/17km run and quite challenging as it was hillier than I had anticipated and a wrong turn meant that I did about an extra 2km more than I needed to. sadly I haven't managed a swim while in Melbourne as the weather hasn't been at all flash and the only pool anywhere near here is an outdoor pool.
The rest week is definitely helping my body. I am no longer fatigued and 17km was a stroll in the park. Had I attempted it last week, I don't think I would have made it.
Anyway, I promised more about my little argument with the semi-trailer...
21 August 2001 about 8:45am
By now the "green stick" (actually called a Penthrox Analgesic Inhaler, but "green stick" is about all I am capable of comprehending in my state) is really starting to kick in and I am as high as a kite. I wouldn't say that the pain has completely gone, but the messages going to my brain are so jumbled, I really can't tell.
The police have taken Carleen's workplace details and are focused on managing the traffic and getting in touch with Carleen. Carleen works at Monash University on the other side of the city (I hope I've managed to tell the cops that, I could have told them that she was a circus performer in Timbuktu with all these nasty/lovely chemicals swirling around in my system), so it could take her a while to get to wherever they are going to take me.
The paramedics are preparing me for the move to the ambulance, stabilising what they can and reassuring me all the while. They seem to be asking a massive amount of questions too. I know I am responding and I am aware of what is going on around me, but I couldn't be very precise about exactly what. The moment they move my lower body though, everything becomes very sharp and my focus is clear. The pain is immense and I scream for them to stop. Of course, I know that they have to move me and they comfort me and explain that I am just going to have to suck furiously on the stick and grit my teeth and bear it. So I do.
Once on the gurney they wheel me into the back of the ambulance and strap me in. We're off, and to start with I am actually starting to feel reasonably comfortable - I even manage to blurt out through the green stick: "Geez, this shit is good, but I hate to think what its doing to my brain cells." But as we gather speed, I feel every minute vibration, every undulation of the road and every corner - pain surges through my pelvis as my weight shifts and every nerve, sinew of flesh and fragment of bone seems to ache to the core. Its not an intense or sharp pain but an incredibly strong ache. The paramedics try to put a drip in my arm so that they can get an IV going, but my veins seem to have disappeared and they have no luck.
We are heading for the Austin Hospital (which, ironically, is only about 15 to 20 minutes from work on my bike) and as we get close we head to the top of a small rise near the end of Bell St and then over the crest to a reasonably steep descent. As the ambulance tilts from up hill, to level and then steeply down hill all of the loose bits in my pelvis surge up towards my stomach. The pain is too much too bear again and I let out a scream, only for the pain to get worse as the ambulance reaches the entrance to the hospital half way down the hill where it has to take a sharp (albeit slow) turn to the right.
I'm safe at the hospital now and there are more and more faces gathering around me as I burst through several doors with lights flashing past me on the ceiling. By the time the gurney comes to a stand still in the emergency room I reckon there are about 8 to 10 people (maybe more) surrounding me; several asking me questions, others assessing my injuries and more still preparing endless machines to attach to me. Its like a classic scene from ER - I half expect to see George Clooney (or that guy from Full House whom I can't take seriously) to pop his head into the room and drop some really corny one liner.
Now the real fun begins...
******
More soon.
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