It’s been 3.5 months since I, in the words of one friend, “got run-ded over.” For all that people worry about the dangers of commuting I actually got hit while riding around Golden Gate Park on a Sunday afternoon. Go figure. You can never tell.
I had no idea what I was in for when we were sent to San Francisco General in April. I thought that at worst I’d get a cast on my leg and go home that evening. Maybe I should have been more aware when we jumped the trauma queue—did you know that they don’t even ask your name when you get admitted through trauma? I was Trauma Romeo and our son was Trauma Sierra. I’m still amazed that I spent two weeks in the hospital—nobody spends two weeks in the hospital anymore. Two surgeries later, two months stuck in bed on the continuous passive motion machine, and many physical therapy visits later, and here I am: back to full weight bearing. Admittedly I have a bad limp. That’s okay. I have a cane; it looks very hard core.
Last Friday I got tired of waiting around. We had test rides to do over the weekend (more on that later), and that meant it was time to get back on the bike. My range of motion is not all that it could be, so for now I’m on the Brompton, because it has a nice low step-over.
My right leg is pretty atrophied, and that makes starting from a full stop very hard. But to my surprise I can still make it up a moderate hill unassisted on the Brompton. I’m still kind of nervous on the streets, and the less said about left turns, the better. But I’m back on the bike.