Blame it on the Bug

Lately I've been feeling all pleased with myself for having gained so much wisdom by my 40th birthday. Don't mock me, it happens sometimes. But now I know that wisdom will leave you in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk if you lack the knowledge and ability to reason when faced with a bug in your eye at the wrong moment...

EARLY yesterday morning found me cruising around our beautiful planned community on my brand new, birthday bike. It was a perfect summer morning, by any state's standards and I was riding through the green belt paths and around the lakes at top speed, soaking up every breezy, bird song-filled, solitary moment. It was idyllic. It was heaven. I was even composing a blog post in my head, repenting of my hatred of Arizona and realizing that after two years I was starting to form a strange attachment to this place aptly named "The Valley of the Sun."

I was on my last turn around the lake and planning to head for home when (sound effect)... a bug flew in my eye. My eye stung and watered and I went into reaction mode. With no thought for the fact that I was cruising in my highest gear at a pretty good velocity I reached up to get the bug out with my right hand and squeezed my left brake with some force. It seemed that there was a moment where I thought, "No! I didn't just do that!" before my extremely effective front brake locked the front wheel and I flew over the handlebars. I can still see the sidewalk coming up fast and my right arm stretched out straight in front of me to "brace" my fall (hah!) That unforgiving slab of concrete first pounded the palm of my hand, sending shocks of pain up through my elbow and shoulder, then crashed into my right cheek. To complete the experience, in the next instant my bike flipped over and landed on top of me.

I was mad. Having no swear words at my disposal I yelled, "Dangit!" to the heavens and breathed in disgust at myself. I had ruined my perfect ride and now I was going to hurt. I hate pain as a general rule and I was sure this pain was going to be pretty spectacular. It was during these musings that I realized that stupid bug was still in my eye! Before I could extricate myself from underneath the bike of death, I had to find a limb that worked and get the stupid insect carcass off of my eyeball. I dug around for a minute or so, got the evil thing out and then slowly, tenderly got up and tested each part of my body to see what worked and what was starting to protest about my callous treatment.

My right arm was in bad shape. My wrist and palm were throbbing and I couldn't lift my arm at the shoulder without extreme pain. But I didn't want to prolong the agony by walking home, so I got on and rode the two blocks back to my house with my right arm cradled into my stomach and my left hand on the brake. I realize now how lucky I am that I didn't go over the handlebars again by having only the front brake at my disposal!

By the time I got home I was crying. I walked in on Hannah eating breakfast and through my sobs told her what happened, freaking her out, I'm sure. Gid seeing me in a state of distress, came over and said, "I sorry mommy," and kissed my leg. If only healing could be achieved by the kisses of innocent babes... My only thought (irrational as it was) was to get showered before the real pain set in, because I STUNK and I didn't want to go through the ordeal ahead feeling all stinky and sweaty. It was a tricky and painful process, but I managed the cleansing and the dressing before the real pain set in. I had to call my good friend Tracie for a ride to urgent care (Thanks Tracie!) because Ren was also on a bike ride, up in the mountains. Ironically, I had decided to stay in the neighborhood rather than go with him, partially because I thought his ride might be a bit dangerous. Nice.

So to finish off this tale of woe and sadness, I spent some time getting x-rayed in urgent care, spent some time getting a CAT scan at the ER and was eventually sent home with my sprained wrist in a brace, my sprained arm in a sling, instructions on how to treat a mild concussion in my hands and my bruised pride pounding in my breast. My family babied me the rest of the day and I got so many kind words from friends on Facebook, I felt very loved if not a little awkward about all the attention. (Not all the attention was on me though, my brother-in-law Jared did express concern for the bug.)

I woke up today thinking that this whole situation might look a little suspicious. To my shock and surprise, I have no impressive cuts, scrapes or bruises, even on my cheekbone, to prove my story. (Though, I do have a doozy on my lower cheek that Ren could vouch for!) There were no broken bones and no witnesses. Some might even question the veracity of my story. Well, maybe I have just discovered a great way to get a break from life for a day or two. (evil laugh...mwa ha ha ha!) Would anyone really blame me? In the end, it is the fact that I awoke feeling like I lost a fight with a slab of concrete and a heap of metal which keeps my conscience clear and my family hopping for at least another day.