Hi, I'm John (I usually don't talk much {OFT = one-finger typist}) :)
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Hi, I'm John (I usually don't talk much {OFT = one-finger typist}) :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by johnske
Glad to get to know you through this board. I really admire your talents and contributions.
- Your abiltities and willingness to help speak volumes.
- Ironic that you are Chat VP yet don't talk much.
- Lots of articles for an OFT. :(
Regards,
Talking about people missing in action..... Johnno, where are you these days?
Hi Ted,
John has problems with his hands which makes it painful to type.
Hi Ted,
Yep, Malcolms right (but I do drop in from time to time).
Life's been pretty boring lately, with the exception of a near-death experience about a month back....
Got on my pushie to go to shops, on the way home, passing a T intersection on my left a driver coming the opposite way decided he'd turn right into said intersection - I only had time to get out one brief obscenity before I got whacked.
I believe they gave me good marks for the triple somersault with half twist but lost points for the poor landing.
Rather interesting experience though, you're lying flat on your back, bleeding, panting and trying to breathe thru broken ribs and all these ppl rushing up and saying "are you OK?" (well duh) - "do you want us to call an ambulance?" (duh again). Then all these other ppl want to know your name and asking you trick questions like "what day is it?" (don't they know?).
Two ambulances with crews rock up, two paramedics (you really have to worry about them because they don't seem to know what day it is either). Then they cut your clothes off you, cut your backpack straps, cut your key-thingie round your neck off (in future I wont worry about the extra expense of getting things with quick-release buckles and straps - that's all ignored, the scissors come out automatically {seems they have contests about how many things they cut off ppl in a day}).
All this is at 5 PM right near a major intersection and shopping centre and traffic is banking up while the paramedics do a 'head to toe' so there's now 2 or 3 police cars with cops directing traffic around the ambulances and the fire engine (did I mention the fire engine?) - i suppose they're there to rescue my bike off the bonnet of the car if it bursts into flame.
Anyway, off to hospital, and emergency dept doctor sees me (at least he knew what day it was) - says "yep, I can guarantee you got broken ribs" (don't ask for this sort of guarantee when you buy any thing).
Off to X-ray for ribs and right ankle, X-ray tech takes off left shoe before realizing it's the right leg, but then i see big toe on left foot is at really strange angle (no-one had picked this up).
Back to emergency, now i'm farmed out to a brand new doctor (this is a teaching hospital and i'm not critical) with a 'how-to' book in her handbag which i pretend not to notice.
X-rays not showing broken ribs but told X-rays dont always pick them up, (need CT scan to do this) and they dont look too hard anyway cos there's nothing can be done for broken ribs. Interestingly she tells me nothing showing broken on the ankle either - i ask for another opinion cos i cant put the slightest bit of weight on right foot - ortho specialist called.
Indian ortho specialist pops the toe back into place (was broken AND dislocated) has a quick poke around ankle and says "yep - it's broken". He then calls all the junior doctors over to give them all a lesson on diagnosing ankle fractures when the X-rays don't show anything untoward (it's in the joint apparently).
Get me some crutches and say I can go home today if i can get around on crutches. Did this and thinking "yippee", but when I got back to guerney I black out - BP is now something like 50 over 30 - "cancel that, you're staying overnight", and now the physio-terrorists will have the final say as to when I go home (bummer, they're not as easy to fool as the doctors...).
Anyway, six days later I get home and am quietly going stir-crazy, can sit, can lay down, but cant walk - most frustrating.
Got my bike back, it's a write-off. The driver tells me he's got a few bikes at home and I can take my pick of them - he's got to be kidding, this was a custom built racing frame, and not the same thing at all.
A frame-builder in Sydney viewed pics and confirmed it's a write-off and offered to build me a replacement for $2000 (and he's the cheapest). Anyway, after looking at frame I understood why I got hurt on the inside L knee (which was a puzzle) - the top tube has a kink in it where it smacked into my knee.
Anyway, the driver was charged, admitted liability, and there were witnesses so my lawyers tell me it's now just a matter of waiting for everything to stabilise before meeting with his insurance company and arguing/deciding what is a "fair thing" - if I was still working they say it'd be worth about 250 to 300 thou, but seeing I've retired it'll be less...
I had to read that twice John, the tears were rolling down my face from laughter. I know exactly how you feel here, as I came off a motor bike in 1980.
Back then I was a want to be tearaway. Living in Toowoomba and working 1/2 an hour west of there. The Kawasaki 400 was my pride & joy, along with the super cheap vinyl jacket and no gloves. One Saturday morning I had been at work trying to put some weeds to bed, when I decided that i'd knock off work at lunch time, race back into town, get cleaned up and then scoot out to Dalby to watch a rugby union game. The bike had new tyres and I had left work a bit later than I intended.... no problems I thought. Bit more throttle than usual. I couldn't believe the run I was getting through town... green lights, not much traffic, heading east on James, next turn right into Kitchener St... open corner.... and oops.
When I came to, all I couold see was the perfect blue sky but I could sence there were people standing around me, and way off in the distance I could here a young boy saying, "look at all the blood, he's going to die". I was feelig a bit crook at this stage, my pelvis hurt, and there was a strong sence of tingling in my fingers. I could feel the red stuff oozing out of me. I think I'm going to real late for football.
A face was blurring the sky and as I focused on it, into view came an ambo. He too asks "What day is it?" I'm sure its just a warm up up line they learn in Ambo school. Right about now its starting feel really off. Two bulls are trying head butt each other through my pelvis. Blurry face asks me if I want something for the pain, & are you allergic to anything. I mumble Yes & No through gritted teeth. It turns out blurry face has an offsider. The offsider turns out to be related to Edward scissorhands, for he has a pair of employed scissors, which are easily cutting through my jacket. Bingo in goes a needle, and the two bulls now seem to be operating at snorting distance from my spine. Off comes the helmet, and the two ambo's are joined by a cop. Righto someone says we need to roll him over to see if he's hurt elsewhere. Luckily I pass out.
I come to again just as we are arriving at the hospital. The trolley ride into the emergency ward feels like a 4wd ride on a motor cross track. If there was a bump or hole in the ground we hit it or so it seemed. Now there's a conversation going on about where I can be accomodated.... the end result is I'm left parked in a corridor. After a while along comes a nurse with paperwork... "What day is it?" "How many fingers am I holding up?", What's your name?" ad then we get onto my favorite subject... "do you want something for the pain?" "Yeah I'll have what ever blurry face gave me, and double it up thanks... Back she comes with 2 tablets... I think I'm getting short changed. 10 mins later I vomit it all back into her stainless tray.
Hang on we're off again... two male orderlies are taking me on an inspection tour of the hospital,round a couple of corners, down an alley way, through a door and I'm parked against a table. "Don't go anywhere says one" as they disappear. Next thing I hear is a gruff voice... right we are short staffed here so I need you to try and get on to the table for an xray....
I thought I'd felt pain before, but this was taking it to the limits. I eventually get on... right don't move, and breathe everly so slowly if you don't mind..... The tears are streaming down my face.... Some time later the two kidnappers are back, and then I'm on another inspection tour. I've no idea where I am, having lost count of the corners, hallways and which way the lift went was just a guess.
I end up in a ward, this time I'm sort of lifted and rolled onto the bed. More nurses come, all of them armed with paperwork. Same question 'What day is it?" I can't believe how many public servants don't know what day it is...
Turns out I had a double fractured pelvis, fractured coccsis ( the little tail thing on the end of your spine.) which was the main reason for the tingling in the fingers. Half my left backside was worn away, which is not surprising as bitumen is mildly abrasive. I was down a bit on blood. The two orderlies and a nurse take it turns to cut my clothes off. When I get out of hospital I'm going to find out how come this Scissorhands guy was such a breeder. His offspring are everywhere. On goes the gown, sheets pulled up and I'm on my lonesome.
Next day, a doctor comes by, he's one of these guys who umms and aarh's bit, writes some notes and he's off. 5 minutes later he's back with the learner plate squad. There's about 10 of them. Right he says to me roll onto your left side. What for I ask, 'Come Come he says We don't have all day". I roll over and then he publicily examines my backside with the occassional poke and push. Mother hen and the chickens all nod amongst themselves as the conversations turns very medical. All I know is I'm displaying my less than whole backside to the world, there's couple of questions from the want to be's, a grunt of two from the head bloke and then their off.
Next day same routine, I make a mental note to try and throw the doctor to the lions, but I'm not sure I could get out of bed to do it. Talk about groundhog day, old mates back again the next day, he says roll over and I tell him to go get impregnated.... He tells me its a training hospital and that I had earlier agreed to examined for training purposes. I respond by saying that it'll be stethoscopes at ten paces if I have to get out of bed....
There I was thinking I'd won the battle, when a nurse came in and said the Doctor had ordered that I have a bath.... Can you walk she says.... I think so I say very manly... she just smiles. Turns out the bath was a salt bath. With a double fractured pelvis one can't get up or down very quickly, so one needs to suffer a bit when one's half worn away backside hits the water. I'll bet that bloody doctor is still laughing.
I'll never ever forget that new tyres on a bike need to be worn in before laying the bike over into quick corners..... These days I ride with proper leathers, but even then right hand corners leave me a bit cold.
ROFL Ted,
A Kwakka? Had one of them once - wasn't impressed, traded it on a Yammy RZ250 - now even tho it was only 250cc THAT was impressive!! Unfortunately I got a letter from Qld transport the other day saying that number of ccs limitation isn't working as intended so they're bringing in a horsepower limitation as well - no more RZ250s on a RE license.
Anyway, alhough it's been a long time, this is certainly not the 1st time I got whacked by a car while riding a pushie. But this is the 1st time I had any breaks - seems when you get older you get more brittle.
Although a pushie was my preferred mode of transport (and exercise regime) I don't think I'd ever be able to get on the road again in traffic with either a bike or motorbike. On top of "pain and suffering", part of my settlement (that's my only consolation here) will target the added expense needed to buy and run a car for my sole means of transport from now on. :devil2:
John
Its good to hear that you are laugh about the experiences. All the best with your future.
I had a bike (pedal power type like John) accident once, but it was tame in comparison - but it still makes me laugh. I was cycling one day and was moving up towards the Lansdowne, a part of Bournemouth where the winos hang out. There was a long queue from the roundabout, so I decided to just punt up the inside. I was just passing the inside of a coach when a guy stepped out in front of me from between the coach and the vehicle in front. I smacked straight into him, went over the handlebars and him, and hit the deck some 10-20 feet away. Although I ached in a few spots, I was not hurt, but when I looked back the guy just got up, looked a bit confused, and then staggered off. I am sure he had no idea that he had been hit.
Anyway, I hope the recuperation goes well John.
Thanks Bob,
Recuperation is certainly my main goal now.
Actually we all tend to laugh at these sort of things afterward, but I think the laughter is more that of relief than genuine mirth. When I think about it I was very lucky, it could all too easily have ended so very very differently...
Regards,
John