It’s been an awful week for the world, for my family, and for me.
Obviously, we have the horrific events that have unfolded in Japan. I can’t even imagine what life in the devastated areas must be like, but it reminds me that life is so short and can change rapidly. Some day I might look fondly back on the time that life was good and easy, when I could go motorcycle racing, ride my bicycle every day, and enjoy good health. I was also shaken by the gambling tour bus crash in New York City over the weekend, where a bus fell on its side at high speed and ran into a strong sign post, shearing off the top half of the bus and making hamburger meat out of the poor people inside. Awful stuff, and reminds me of why I hate public transportation. Control issues, yes, I have them.
Last Wednesday my 91 year old grandpa was taken to the ER because he was vomiting. At some point the medical staff put some kind of breathing mask on him, and he threw up again, aspirating yucky stuff into his lungs. At some other point they inserted a breathing tube into him and put him on antibiotics to control the infection that would likely begin to rage inside his lungs. Minutes after I got there around 11 a.m., my mom got a phone call from the doctor recommending that he should be taken off the breathing tube, per his medical care directives that essentially stated, unless there’s a reasonable chance of recovery, pull the plug. So they shot him full of morphine and took him off the breathing tube. They suspected he’d last an hour or two at the most.
We didn’t really know why. One minute he was giving my mom the “thumbs up” as they were wheeling him into the ambulance, the next we were being told to pull the plug and say our goodbyes. He was unconscious as well, and deaf, and I know that people have told me that “he can still hear you” if the parts in the ear don’t work, that just can’t be true.
Grandpa hung in there until 5:35 p.m. yesterday. Today my mom is making calls and I’ll be over there shortly to spend family time with them. I will miss him, but I’ve been missing him for the past ten years. I’ve missed wandering their ranch in Alpine, California, with him, doing odd outdoorsy things like fishing, hiking, climbing trees, building rope swings, and then sitting around being bored while the grownups play cards and drink screwdrivers. Yes, I miss that too. Wish I could have been a grownup with them then.
I’ve also had a series of stupid injuries. Two weeks ago I was go karting with some racing friends. During qualifying, as a very fast racer was attempting to stuff the shit out of me since he couldn’t make a legitimate pass, I got spun around and he smacked me into a wall. The impact on my neck was pretty intense even though I was wearing one of their cheesy little neck donuts. It was amazingly sore that night and has been ever since. Last night after a bicycle ride, I noticed my index finger going pins and needles, and then numb, and I feel what feels like sciatica, but in my shoulder. I was so mad after the incident that I qualified like a mad woman, literally I guess, and qualified ahead of Oliver, a former pro kart and car racer, and Greg, a fast motorcycle racer. I didn’t beat Oliver in the race, but got Greg for the first time.
The following weekend I had a stupid bicycle crash. I was asked to lead a group of very novice bicycle riders (I actually still feel like one too) on a two hour century training ride. As we pulled away from the bike shop where they held the training talk, I looked behind me to see if my ducklings were all there. Consciously trying to counteract the natural reaction to veer left as I looked over the left shoulder, I instead veered right, up and over a curb, fell to the ground and then tumbled. I had bleeding road rash on my knees and shoulder, and went back to the bike shop to have my bent wheel straightened. Thomas Chapple, author of a really good bicycle training book that I’ve read cover to cover, was kind enough to come with me and then ride with me once the wheel was trued. That was particularly cool of him.
My rash has been bothering me and I’ve been impatiently waiting for it all to heal, so I can feel like a pretty girl again and not a dumb tomboy with poor bike handling skills. Distracted also by my grandpa’s situation, I was shaving my legs in the shower Thursday night and carelessly shaved over my thumb, ripping off a good portion of nail and the nail bed beneath. It bled all over my shower and was not just physically painful, but one of those injuries that just totally grosses you out and adds mental pain on top of it all.
And this weekend I’m racing my motorcycle at Buttonwillow. Round 1, AFM. I hope my bad luck doesn’t follow me down I-5.
Grandpa’s service will be next week sometime in Alpine, near the ranch we used to love visiting. This weekend, I just want to be careful, do my best, turn with my feet, take my Tylenol, and keep the rubber side down. My neck is killing me.
