So far it has been easier than Wednesday...
which was harder than Tuesday...
which rivaled Monday...
which was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
On Monday I got a call from Robert whilst at work. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, not because he called me at work, but because I knew he was out on a bike ride. He always lets me know when he leaves for a ride, so by the end of the first *ring (Robin Hood ring tone) I had done the calculations in my head and determined, indeed, he was still supposed to be out on the bike.
A call when he's supposed to be on a ride always means trouble. And I'm always worried.
"Hey Chris,"
he says, calm and collected, but still breathing a little hard.
Step 1 in my head: Ok, at least he's OK. He probably has a flat tire.
"I've, uh, got some bad news..."
I hear a car wiz by fast in the background.
Step 2 in my head: o.o . . . . .SPIT IT OUT THEN!
"I, uh, crashed..."
Step 3 in my head: He crashed, but he's talking to me so he's ok. Thank God. But, must be real bad news about the bike....his TIME TRIAL BIKE! Well, I'm just glad you're ok. So tell me your TT bike is in two pieces. Go ahead. I can totally handle it.
"...and I... I think my collar bone is broken again."
Step 4 in my head I forget everything about bikes: Oh. Oh no. This was supposed to be his season. He has been working so hard, training, studying, building his race bike, honing in his time trial bike. This can't happen. Noooo! I am so so so very sorry. Oh, what awful timing.
He told me where he was, I google mapped it, grabbed my purse, and left.
Step 5 in my head: Waaaaiiiit just a cotton-pickin' minute. Where he told me he crashed is totally flat. He must have been hit by a car!
Someone's gonna get it when I get there...
Step 6 in my head: I am speeding this time. Last time it took me an HOUR to get him. This time will take me 15 minutes, I swear, and any cop who dares pull me over is gonna get it.
Robert was headed north on Red Wood Road and turned right onto 2100 N. The Truck was headed south on Red Wood Road and turned left onto 2100 N, both heading east. See that first dirt road on the right? The truck, without ever seeing Robert, and without any signaling, turned right onto that road, right in front of Robert. Bam.
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The police man in charge of the incident was nice but just...not...getting it. He came over and said, "I'm not going to cite either one of you but the fault is on Robert."
After sufficient yelling and enacting Robert "going around the truck" (as the cop suggested) into 50 MPH traffic, the kind police man decided to change his mind about putting fault on the cyclist, versus the truck driver, who, I might respectfully add, (description was removed because my mom said it wasn't very nice. Though it WAS true) and claimed he "never saw Robert." Isn't that a clue that it might be HIS fault? Anyway...not pointing fingers.
Next stop, Emergency Room. We know the drill. They took x-rays and verified a broken collar bone, and sent us home. Gram and I got an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon Tuesday, who told us surgery wasn't needed. They'd put him in a figure 8 sling and check on him that coming Monday.
Step 7 in my head: I hate that sling. I already hate it because it means he can't get on his bike as soon as he wanted to. Just operate. Call the real surgeon (we were talking to the PA) and get him in here (he only comes in once a week) and just get it done. Robert is an athlete, for Pete's sake. PLEASE. Someone just understand that!
In the mean time, the automatic chlorine feeder at the pool was broken and I had an appointment Tuesday evening for it to be fixed. Guess who came Tuesday morning to check chemicals? The Health Department. Guess who shut down the pool even though I explained "By nature of a treatment center, no one swims unless I schedule them. It wasn't being used. It's CLOSED!" Health Department.
I am frustrated with people not understanding what I am saying to them. I just want the police man, the surgeon, and the Health Department to set procedure and habit aside and use a little bit of common sense. Just hear me out:
1. It wasn't Robert's fault. I know you claim to be a cyclist, Mr. Police Man, but he wasn't cruising along at 10-15 MPH, he was flying at around 30-35. It happened faster than you are imagining.
2. He needs surgery. He wants it stable so he can ride. We've been working towards this season for so long. Mr. Doctor who only comes in once a week. Just come SEE him. We have plans, we have a family trip paid for, we have our first anniversary coming up. PLEASE. Time is of the essence!
3. The pool was fine. I had the problem under control. I just didn't have time to put up a "Closed Pool" sign (A. because it was obvious, and B...) because I was rushing off to pick up my husband off the road after being hit by a car.
Then yesterday I was trying to help Robert put up pictures in our room and I dropped it on his brand new race bike, which isn't even finished being put together, and hasn't ever been ridden...and now there is a big ol' scratch on the frame.
I cried.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, and I cried for about 45 minutes.
We got in the car and went to see the Disney Nature Chimpanzee movie.
We got two large popcorns and Sour Patch Kids.
Today is MUCH better, and things are looking up :)
I'm so thankful that he is ok, that it is the summer, that we're insured, that my dad's a lawyer, that I have a full time job, and that we have a window unit to keep our bedroom nice and cool since Robert does a lot of sitting around at home these days.
We may have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days...or weeks. But life is full of wonderful, spectacular, joyful, very good times.
