I drive a 125cc Genuine Buddy. Hank (yes, of course my scooter has a name) is shiny and black and was a wedding gift from my wonderful wife. We're a 1.25 car household and I'm able to move from client to client swiftly and park in the smallest of spaces. I ride year round, using rechargeable battery powered heated gloves and layers and layers of clothing. I 90% all of our grocery shopping - carrying a bag on the built in hook and another in my custom installed luggage box. Most importantly - I always wear a helmet.
Last Tuesday I was riding down a busy street that I've driven on hundreds of times before when a driver came from somewhere and hit me. I remember feeling the blow of my back and head hitting the ground and then laying on my back on the pavement in the middle of the busy street while my scooter ran next to me. Someone was yelling "Don't move - you landed on your back" from the corner, but I was in the middle of a large intersection - Hell if I was going to get run over twice in a moments time. I made my way to the sidewalk while a ever-growing crowd of bystanders rushed to my aid. They pulled Hank from harms way and locked him securely, chased down the person who hit me hard enough to blow out a tire (he had driven down the block and switched places with his elderly mother - nope, not sketchy at all),called the medics, provided me with witness contacts and urged me to remain as still as possible until the ambulance arrived. I wish I could thank each of them for what they did that day.
I was lucky. After 9.5 extremely un-fun hours in the trauma unit (It's pretty much like one of those TV doccudramas), 7 of which were spent with my neck immobilized until my CAT scan cleared, I was sent home with heavy medications. My wife wasn't allowed in to see me until I was stabilized - that took 2 hours. However they did come out and ask her if I had a living will. Now, while I know this is hospital policy, maybe they should preface it with "LifeBlazesOn is doing fine, but we're required to note if he has a living will?" Just a suggestion to reduce panic and unneeded stress.
Today was the first day I decided not to take the heavy medication for half of the afternoon. I also attempted to paint some of the shelves in The Bun's room. I spilled some greyish paint - The thunderstormy color we decided on for the walls of the room that will make whatever colorful things we decorate with pop. The splash hit the plastic covering the rug and landed on the case of my new cell phone and my bare feet. Under normal circumstances I'd be pissed, and for a second I felt the tirade of expletives about to be unleashed on the readily drying paint, but then I realized I was standing in the room that will soon belong to my child and I was physically readying it for their arrival. If I wasn't wearing a helmet, I wouldn't be doing that. If that car had veered a few more feet, I wouldn't be doing that; I wouldn't even be around to ever meet our baby.
What's a little spilled paint, really?
Last Tuesday I was riding down a busy street that I've driven on hundreds of times before when a driver came from somewhere and hit me. I remember feeling the blow of my back and head hitting the ground and then laying on my back on the pavement in the middle of the busy street while my scooter ran next to me. Someone was yelling "Don't move - you landed on your back" from the corner, but I was in the middle of a large intersection - Hell if I was going to get run over twice in a moments time. I made my way to the sidewalk while a ever-growing crowd of bystanders rushed to my aid. They pulled Hank from harms way and locked him securely, chased down the person who hit me hard enough to blow out a tire (he had driven down the block and switched places with his elderly mother - nope, not sketchy at all),called the medics, provided me with witness contacts and urged me to remain as still as possible until the ambulance arrived. I wish I could thank each of them for what they did that day.
I was lucky. After 9.5 extremely un-fun hours in the trauma unit (It's pretty much like one of those TV doccudramas), 7 of which were spent with my neck immobilized until my CAT scan cleared, I was sent home with heavy medications. My wife wasn't allowed in to see me until I was stabilized - that took 2 hours. However they did come out and ask her if I had a living will. Now, while I know this is hospital policy, maybe they should preface it with "LifeBlazesOn is doing fine, but we're required to note if he has a living will?" Just a suggestion to reduce panic and unneeded stress.
Today was the first day I decided not to take the heavy medication for half of the afternoon. I also attempted to paint some of the shelves in The Bun's room. I spilled some greyish paint - The thunderstormy color we decided on for the walls of the room that will make whatever colorful things we decorate with pop. The splash hit the plastic covering the rug and landed on the case of my new cell phone and my bare feet. Under normal circumstances I'd be pissed, and for a second I felt the tirade of expletives about to be unleashed on the readily drying paint, but then I realized I was standing in the room that will soon belong to my child and I was physically readying it for their arrival. If I wasn't wearing a helmet, I wouldn't be doing that. If that car had veered a few more feet, I wouldn't be doing that; I wouldn't even be around to ever meet our baby.
What's a little spilled paint, really?
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