Slow and Steady goes off the race course

So I have some explaining to do. The pictures below this post aren't pictures from Labor Day weekend of pretty flowers, or lovely pets, or my fantastic friends. No, those are pictures of my battered arm, bruised legs, and beat up ankle. Gotta love holidays.

In fact, holidays like Labor Day, 4th of July, or even Memorial Day always bring about some type of human disaster all over the nation. The emergency rooms are always packed when it's a holiday- it's a given. My aunt who used to be an ER nurse told me all about it. Whatever is humanly idiotic and dangerous, it will occur when our culture gives people an extra day off for a holiday to relax and rest up.

Now I'm not saying what I did was stupid and that I planned on it, my goodness no. Misfortune also follows holidays like a black curse. Sure, you could change that lightbulb in the house any day of the year and be fine, but if it's a holiday weekend, plan to fall off that ladder, take the light fixture with you, and break an arm on your way down.

Now to my Labor Day story that I've recounted so many times I'm surprised I'm not publishing a book. But a blog is close enough, it's like that over/grill they advertise on TV: "Set it, and forget it!" Anyway, I was taking a plesant and jovial ride on my cousin's dirtbike around the yard. The bike is having some trouble with the gas and needed to be checked out with my father, but nothing major, still ridable. I loved it when my aunt had her old 50 CC bike at the house. I rode it a lot and wanted more, so I welcomed this chance with open arms. Sure, I needed refreshed on the basics, but I like riding, it's a different kind of fun.

So I was doing well, confidant, but not cocky, aware, but not asleep, smart, but unknowing to what would happen next. I can't even remember what exactly happened. All I know is that I wanted to downshiftwhen I was at the top of the yard and it just wasn't happening.I might have been pulling the thottle at the same time, causing a problem obviously, I had the clutch in, but I was still going might fast and was headed towards the side of the garage. My father, when he heard the problem for the downshift, ran out and started waving his arms. When I was coming towards him, I paniced and forgot everything- killswitch, brake, everything. Yet when you are in that state of mind, isn't is amazing how you can put together a full sentence? I saw my father and first thought "Oh no, I'm my brother all over" (because my brother and dirtbikes don't mix) (story for another day) and then "What does he think he's doing? I'll run him over!" I then hear my cousin J yell "She's going to hit the garage!" which in my mind replied "No, that's just silly". In less than a second I was in the gravel driveway, remember that, gravel driveway, and was headed straight for the parked truck and the parked car that I drive. As I was speeding towards the defensless vehicles I just made an immediate desicion: I'm laying the bike down." Simple as that. Sure, I didn't it the cars, and I am thankful that I didn't, I was practially a foot from the bumper of the car, and I did a good job of laying the bike down, but I took the beating.

First imfamous words out of my mouth: "I'm alright- get the bike off me!" I said that so hastly for fear of getting burned by the exhaust pipe, which was on the other side, but I didn't know that at the time. J pulled me out and I sat there shaking from what just happened. Boom, boom, boom, on the ground and suddenly really sore. I first noticed how much my legs hurt, not my arm, or foot, but my legs ached, yes no blood. I waddled my way into the bathroom and slowly took off my jeans that were destoryed to say the least as the gravel popped out of my shirt and dirt fell on the floor. Now people have been asking me "Why didn't you have riding gear on?" which leads me to add this disclaimer- I was in the yard and I live in the country. I wasn't trying out for the new motocross 2005 season or anything like that, it was just a happy, wholesome ride around the yard that turned into a thrill and spill. I did have a helmet on though, it's crazy not to wear one.

My injuries include the following: a deep cut on the ankle from a footpeg or something of that kind (somewhat of a mystery), road rash on my legs, hands, stomach, and hip, close to 3 hematomins (big bruise filled with blood), and a slice in my forearm along with little ones in the same place to keep it company. It was a good beatin'!

My father was amazed that someone would get so beat up in one incident. I then soaked in Epson salts to pull out the dirt that was incased in all the wounds on my body. I've been soaking religiously in Epson salts everday since then to alieviate the swelling and heal up the wounds faster. Epson salts are great, it's like the ducktape of medicene- you can use it for sprains and swelling, as a laxative, and even as a fertilizer for your houseplants and lawn. Pick up a bag for only $2.05 at a Wal-Mart nearest you (which shouldn't be too hard).

At first, mother uttered the evil word I didn't want to hear at all "stiches" but she told me we'd wait and see how things turned out in the morning and if the wounds on the arm and foot were healing. Thankfully, they healed enough and there was no trip to the ER to sit in agony with all the other daredevils.

I spent the rest of that Sunday in bed, and as much time off my feet. I made my wasy down the stairs once that night and knew there would be problems returning to school. I live on the 4th floor. Yes, four ever-lovin flights of stairs to climb at least 6 times a day. When I came back, I had climbed 4 and was exhausted. Sure, I wanted to join kickboxing yesterday and get back in shape, but it's hard to do when you're banged up like a civil war drum.

I tried to solve the stair climbing dilemma by going to the front desk and asking if I could have an evelvator pass. See, the elevator in all other residence halls is free of service to all students, with or without a disability. Here at Rose, the elevator is for stictly for those who have a key, and the key comes from the Reslife office accompanied by a doctor's excuse from your physician from HOME. "I just came from there you idiots!" I thought in my head. I almost burst into tears as the people at the front desk turned me down. They told me they wish they would give me the key, but no cigar, not allowed. I did cry, as I climbed back up the stairs with my friend M, because I knew there would be more than walking to class- there would be stairs, taking them one step at a time knowing each step is pain, one way or the other.

Getting into bed is difficult, but with time it can be done properly. The first night I tried getting into my bunk I landed on my arm as I got to the top, which resulted into a 5 mintue crying session and phone call to my friend K from the Potter's House in order to have someone to talk to, roomie wasn't around, and I wanted to be home in my bed with my mother wrapping my bandages.

Walking to class does take longer, no doubt. But this sudden change of speed has given me time to observe rather than hustle off to the room, then to class, then to eat, and so forth. Now I have plenty of time to watch the people around me, see those I do know, and even have longer telephone conversations with friends.

I also see what great friends I have here in Edinboro. The girls at the Potter's house have been tending to me as they clean up the wound, wrap up my arm, and pour the water for the baths at their house this week in order to soak in a bathtub that works and is santitary. Other friends that don't live at the PH are so very helpful and generous, I am very touched and would like to thank them for their prayers and help. I can't recall being so bandaged and bruised like this before. At times I feel like I'm being a baby about the whole thing, I've been called a wuss before, multiple times over and over, and I'm sure some people think I am a wuss, but as my good friend R put it, "You can't measure what pain is to someone. For instance a migrain to one person may be a 10 whereas to another it might be a 2".

So, that might be why I haven't posted for the past couple days. I will someday ride again- I don't want to be afraid. This is a learning experience. If there is one thing I have learned, it's this one word: KILLSWITCH. Never going to forget that one. I'll post later ya'll, for now it's a trip the the PH for my evening soak and gradual shift to the weekend. Slow and steady wins the race!