One-handed diary entry

CONTENT WARNING In fact I genuinely wish you wouldn’t read this. I don’t want to even write it. But this diary is first for my own purpose and if I leave out the bad bits it won’t do what it is designed to do. Feel free to go watch Netflix though, and come back next time I have something happier to write! “Nothing to see here…” Yesterday I set off from Luang Prabang after a lazy watermelon juice on the Mekong with my China visa in hand, for an unknown destination vaguely in the direction of the China border to which I’m headed. I need only to be there by the 23rd of May, so had 8 days to travel a distance that could be done easily in just 1. The plan was to camp somewhere en route, ambling north as the mood took me. Yesterday’s road was wide, straight, well paved, and with only a few other vehicles. I was well rested, relaxed, as content as I could hope under the circumstances, and riding maybe somewhere between 40km/h and 60km/h, on a road that would have safely sustained 100km/h or more. I’m not completely sure what happened next, but I it clearly must have involved a lapse of concentration. Probably just a bit too long gazing at the view. Although even the briefest lapse is never recommended, that’d be not so much of an issue if I’m riding according to plan – with plenty of margin. But yesterday’s lapse found me at the road’s gravelly edge. A “twitch” of the handlebars would course-correct well enough without the gravel, but with gravel and my adventure bike’s high centre of gravity I calculated that as an unwise choice. Slamming the brakes on would likewise simply lose all traction in the rough, but I no doubt tapped them as much as I could for the suddenly-gravelly, road’s-edge conditions. None of that would have been more than a few heart-beats of adrenaline, except that there was no verge on the road, and it immediately fell away possibly two meters on a steep, rocky, shrubby decline. For a slow-mo millisecond that felt like a full minute, it seemed like I had the bike kinda slipping around under something like manageable trajectory down the unavoidable slope. But the inevitable happened and I came to grief. Pause just a second. Somewhere over the last few days on social media I’d seen a clip insisting that a rider must jump clear of a bike in a pending accident. It is very good advice. I remembered that in the minutes that followed, but not at the moment that mattered. Although I’d probably have to fight a tendency to push on regardless hoping against the odds to pull through. Back to the accident. The wheels slipped out from under me away from the road to the right (right-hand lane driving in Laos). And because I’d not hit that eject button, I was still wrapped around the metal as it ground to a halt on the rocky decline. Somehow that ended up twisting my left leg over my right. And my left arm over my head and right arm. I was pinned. Completely. The full 282kg of bike and gear was pressing down on four pressure points – my legs, my left arm (which in turn had my right stuck), my helmet, and my chest. The most I could move was a finger. Adrenaline is quite useful at times like this, and slowed the onset of pain. But the weight of the bike was oppressive, particularly on my chest and extended left arm. It felt like my ribs would crack, and then I was scared it would puncture my lung. It was really very awful. I wasn’t sure if my left leg and arm were broken or not, but either way they were useless at the time. I couldn’t budge an inch. I took the deepest breath I was able, and talked myself into an attempt at staying calm. “Someone will have seen it happen and lift the bike off in seconds,” was my first thought. But as one car and then two and then three zoomed past without slowing, my calm dissolved to panic. My chest, arm and leg were in pain. Lots of pain by now. I had no hope of shifting the bike myself. ”OK so no one saw it happen, but someone will see the aftermath and stop in a moment,” was my only next plea. I resumed counting. Four cars. Five… This was a quiet road with a good period of time between each vehicle, and time was dragging on. When I got past two dozen, I stopped counting. It was not doing my mental state any good. At this point I suppose I was catastrophising, but I began to wonder if this was my end. That didn’t worry me in the moment anywhere near as much as the slow, agonising, despairing way it would play out. Would the rib crack and puncture my lung, leading to suffocation? Or would I eventually black out from pain and simply not recover? I suspect it was the scariest moment of my life, pinned in pain with nothing I could do to influence the outcome. Absolutely terrifying. While recognising that my perspective may have been skewed, I’m pretty sure it was at least 15 minutes – and maybe longer – before someone did stop. There’s no way that the young, alone, slight Laos man who did eventually turn up could have pulled that bike off me. But he hailed a couple of others and in a few more minutes a handful of people had gathered. The bike was lifted above me but not away, as the only way to avoid crushing me further was just to hold it up while I slipped out from under. But I could not move. My legs and my arms were immobile, and in pain. Eventually another couple of people yanked my legs and pulled me gracelessly (but effectively) out from under the bike, which was then lowered back into its original resting place. I’m less clear on the detail of what played out next, but I pulled back to mostly focussing on breathing. No one spoke English. There was a real to-do. Eventually an ambulance arrived, and a stretcher was put beside me. I could still not move a muscle myself. Couldn’t raise my head, or either leg. Oh – I think my right arm probably had a bit of mobility by then. Communicating was impossible, but they clearly wanted me on the stretcher and in the end just grabbed my legs, under arms and head and – it seemed to me – hoisted me over like a sack of spuds. Good thing it has turned out I didn’t have broken bones. Particularly back or neck! Ooosh. I was unclear myself on what damage I’d sustained. The medicos did little (if any?) checking of my vitals or my structural condition. Or maybe I wasn’t in a condition to notice? Maybe. Let’s run with that theory. The stretcher was then hoisted across the road, and eventually on to the back of a small truck. Don’t ask me why the truck was favoured over the ambulance, which had to then drive the same route back to the hospital anyway. My bike, passport, iPad, and all my stuff was very definitely in the hands of the locals. All I could do was focus on breathing. And lying still enough – and in precisely the right position – to minimise the pain. The hospital staff were lovely, although we still had little real communication. I couldn’t hold my phone for Google to translate, and no one had the presence of mind to hold it for me to speak to the digital translator. With a significant rigmarole we eventually got my bike gear off, and with the first medical treatment of the day they then stuck a needle in my bum to help with the pain. Since then I’ve also been given a few twice-a-day anti-inflammatory tablets. Meanwhile kind souls have somehow hoisted the bike back up to the road, and presumably put it on a truck to deliver to the local police station. After paying the 200,000 Kip hospital fee (about AU$17), I was then taken in the ambulance (hmmm…. why now if not before?) to see the bike and then be deposited at a local guest house. And since then I’ve just been resting. It would have been about 3-4 hours after the accident that my legs found strength for the first steps, and that has improved over the 24 hours since. My neck, back and right arm feel ok, too. But 30 hours after the accident my left arm still doesn’t have strength to lift itself. I can use my right arm to move my left, but I have to be very careful of where I move it. I actually wonder if there might have been permanent damage with circulation cut for any longer than it was. My ribs are now fine if I’m sitting or lying still. But getting up or down from sitting or lying is quite painful. Even writing this diary entry, I have to use my right hand to locate my left on the keyboard – with fingers going ok thereafter. So this is almost a one-handed diary entry. I hope that another 24 hours will see all that come good, including left arm and ribs. In the solo guest-house hours since, I’ve really only wanted to hold (and be held by) my wife. I’m feeling very sorry for myself. And I’m also beyond embarrassed about the number of stacks I’ve had. I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve felt like and thought about quitting the road trip and coming home. But presuming I get my left arm’s movement back, I know I need to press on. I still have time to get to the China group without rushing. The bike is pretty beaten up, but after two quick inspections I think it is only surface damage around the front-left side. I’ll probably need to just remove that fairing. It’ll look strange to have a bike with fairing on only one side, but that’ll be cheaper to repair than removing and then replacing both sides – for later when I’m able. Other than that there’s a crack on the windshield, a broken left indicator, and – yet again – a smashed up pannier. The local motorbike repair shop has declined to even look at my bike, which is a shame. I think they only know how to deal with Asian bikes of 250CC or less. Maybe I’ll take it to them when I’m mobile enough, and see if they’ll at least help with the indicator. Meantime, hunger will drag me out of my day bed in a moment long enough to scrounge some food, and then I guess I’ll be back for more boring recuperation. I’m really hoping I’ll be feeling stronger in the morning, maybe even with some movement back in my left arm. Just to state the obvious – I’m fine, now. I’m still quite sore, and feeling really very sorry for myself. But considering all the possibilities I am extremely grateful to have (presumably) only a couple of days’ of recovery, without even impacting the overall schedule. Now… are you regretting that you didn’t reach for the Netflix remote?! Maybe grab a beer to recover, although I won’t join you while I’m on the anti-inflams.