The night I almost died
Two days ago, I was on my way home from work when I crashed my motorcycle on an uphill corner. The front wheel had lost its grip on the concrete.
The weight of my bike was on my right leg. I tried to get free of it. Nope. Maybe a little later. At this point, I fainted.
I woke up to the liberating feeling of the bike being lifted off my leg and the sight of wheels a few inches away from my face. Some good passersby had formed a perimeter around me and the motorcycle, directing traffic.
I’m thankful for three things: One, I did not injure any other motorist on the road. Two, I’m alive—had I overshot the corner, I might have been run over by oncoming traffic. And three, nobody was behind me.
I sat down, trying to make sense of what had just happened while the traffic behind me was starting to build up. I got up toward the bike. People were asking questions. I knew the answers, but didn't have the voice to speak. I didn't want to be an inconvenience to these people. They're just like me, trying to get home safely.
That's when I knew that my body was in a state of shock.
I fainted (again).
The other riders caught me before I hit the ground. Three people helped me to the side of the road. They moved my bike to the sidewalk. Traffic flow was easing up. One of my Good Samaritans called "911"; the police arrived 10–20 minutes later.
I got asked more questions.
Did I want to be taken in an ambulance?
Did I want to go home first and get some first aid there before going to the hospital?
Did I have friends who could bring me to the hospital?
Why do I even need to answer these questions now? I’m in no condition to answer any questions.
But I had enough energy to call my wife.
The others left once they were sure that somebody (the police) was with me. I thanked them before they left. Didn't get their names. And even if I did, I wouldn't remember them.
I knew I wasn't speeding. I don’t think I was. It was just a bad road. The officer said the road isn't in good condition because of the debris trucks leave behind every day. The government should do something about it. He also told me that he was at the same corner the night before because of a similar incident. But that guy didn't survive. Yikes!
Despite my annoyance, the fact that I'm listening to him makes me grateful. Better this than that guy, no? The dead don't get to be pissed.
My wife arrives. I can tell that she's worried. Who wouldn’t be? If our places were reversed, I'd be worried, too. I’d be pressing charges.
Her presence calmed me. I asked to be brought to the hospital.
The ambulance arrived first, but they wanted to bring us to a public hospital farther away than the nearest one. Our friends arrived minutes later, and we declined the ambulance. My wife was asked to sign waivers stating that we refused their transport. While she was doing that, the paramedic cut my pants and cleaned my wounds.
-1 Uniqlo pants in the closet.
At the hospital, I was given some shots. The doctor ordered some X-rays. And the nurse had to clean my wounds some more.
A few hours later,
I was told that I had no fractures.
No concussion.
No apparent brain damage.
We were discharged shortly after hearing the news.
The next morning, my bike was brought to our apartment from our friends' house. It's in bad shape.
This is a painful lesson. Even now, the wounds sting. I thank God I didn't hit anyone else. I'm lucky to be alive.
Taking it as a sign to invest in a car.