I am visiting Melbourne for the first time in six years and for only the second time since we left in 2003 and I am finding it both very familiar (the sights, sounds, smells and streets are as if I had never left) and very strange at the same time. In particular, I am surrounded by constant reminders of my accident that are making me uncomfortably torn between a feeling of having conquered the demons of my accident and the feeling that maybe there is still something lurking below the surface.
The reminders are everywhere: the narrow four lane roads barely wide enough for three cars (let alone four) that have semi-trailers barging their way through the traffic in both directions like a rugby league prop busting through the defensive line (cyclists have no chance); the cycle lanes and routes that I used to use to get to and from work that seemed (and probably were) a safe haven from the bustling traffic; the police station on Sydney Rd was the base for the police officers that were first on the scene after the emergency services were called; catching a glance of Amcor Packaging on the Melways (Melbourne map book), just 150 metres from where my accident occurred, and; the hospital on Moreland Street (just up the road from where I am staying for the next few days) where my urologist had his rooms.
All these things are making the memories that are usually buried just below the surface come bubbling to the top, welling up as crystal clear as the day that they happened. Only, now they are much less emotionally charged and I am more than comfortable writing the down for others to share.
From the moment that I knew that I was in the clear after my accident, I knew that one day I would tell my story. I have never really either found the right outlet or had the right starting point, but coming back to Melbourne and already well into recording my journey for the Challenge ahead has presented the perfect opportunity to at least start to put it down on paper. The real journey began 20 August 2001.
21 August 2001 Revisited
About 7:30am: This morning, life is good! I am finally starting to feel my way after starting at La Trobe University 6 months ago and, despite not getting much time on my PhD, I am feeling like I can get on top of that soon too. We are living in a town house in Richmond, just 20 minutes walk from the CBD and two minutes from the Bridge Rd shops and cafes. Its the life I’d always dreamed of. To top it all off, last week we found out that Carleen is pregnant and she is 10 weeks on. This is especially good news as we had an appointment for a fertility clinic this week after having tried for more than 18 months. We are both over the moon and looking forward to a new addition to the family.
I've been riding my new mountain bike to work for the last six weeks and I have been loosing about a kilo a week and I'm feeling great. I'm late for a meeting, but I still decide to jump on my bike rather than take the car. As I'm heading along the Yarra River bike path I am thinking about what I can do to save time and by the time I hit the one kilometer stretch of cycle lane along a main road, I have decided to whip along Grange Road to cut off about five or ten minutes of winding up another creekside bike path.
Turning the corner I see the railway line about 50 metres ahead and I think to myself that I have always felt a bit strange crossing a railway line, even in a car. As normally happens, a chill runs down my spin as my bike shudders over the lines. I spot a car parked in the left lane ahead of me and traffic is merging into the right lane to miss it. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but I hear a truck approaching from over my right shoulder. Still nothing unusual, but as we both approach the parked car I feel the truck drift ever so slightly towards me. It seems to be taking an eternity to get passed and everything is going in slow motion, even though he's still doing at least 30km/h. I'm getting forced toward the gutter and its too high to jump. He keeps drifting left and (OH SHIT!) all of a sudden a massive feeling of panic hits me. A split second later I feel a massive pain in my elbow and the world literally spins out of control. Another split second later and I am laying in the middle of the road with the most intense burning sensation in my lower torso.
I know its bad, but not how bad. I can't get up, I feel literally glued to the road. I scream for help at the top of my voice, but all I can think is no one will hear me. I am also aware that I am laying prone with my back to a lane of rush hour traffic. Cars going the other way stop and someone jumps out of a car somewhere and comes over to me. He looks at me and I look at him, but I don't register any facial features. He reassures me and covers me with my jacket from my backpack and moments later I am being conforted by a women police officer. I say to her "I think it ran over me" and her partner says "We know it has, we can see the mark where it did." I am the preverbial possum nailed after being stuck in the headlights and flattened right across the mid-section, tyre tracks and all.
The cops start asking for a description of the truck and all I can remember is that it was a curtainsider and it was a semi-trailer. I also remember them asking if I got the licence plate - later I thought "Yeah right, while I was underneath I also got the 20 digit chassis number!"
In the distance I hear the wailing of the ambulance coming my way. It seems to take an eternity to reach me and the heat is intensifying even more and all I can do is scream for help. I have been wiggling my toes, so amongst all of this I somehow manage to think a positive thought: "at least I'm not paralysed." I don't feel like I'm going to die.., I just can't, life is too good, but this isn't good!
The ambulance arrives and they do all the standard checks. I tell them straight away that I can wiggle my toes but they move on from that really quickly and I realise that this is the least of my worries. They give me the "green stick" - a magical chemical-filled stick (lick a glow stick) that they crack and you breath through and three breaths later you are as high as a kite. The pain still didn't subside even though i was tripping, so they tape over the end so I am only sucking in the gas and the pain subsides.
******
Enough for one blog, more to follow as they prepare me for transport to the hospital, from now on my definition of pain is redefined several times over.
No training today as I was travelling to Bendigo and back for a meeting, but I managed a 10km run yesterday in the light rain - very pleasant after being couped up in a plan for 5 or 6 hours.
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