A Sharp Brake

Bluebells illuminated the forest floor, birdsong reverberated, bright green leaves curled round us and treecreeper birds hopped up to the heavens as we cycled through the woods. Abdominal cramps slowed my progress up a disused side road leading up to the main road.

Years of temperature changes and heavy rains had carved a ditch up one side. The concrete underbelly had been exposed, jagged rocks protruding like blunted shark’s teeth.

Having made it to the top I admitted defeat. “Go on, have a nice ride” I said, “I can’t manage it”. My boyfriend protested, but accepted it and I rolled back downhill.

I should get off and walk, I thought, the road was so uneven. But my suspension would take it.

Towards the bottom, I was speeding towards the ditch, so I gently squeezed the brakes and skidded. Abruptly, like the wheels, time accelerated. Instinctively I braked too hard as I slid, catapulting myself over the handlebars. I was aware of flying and saw that my arm was held out at 90 degrees, protecting my head. I shut my eyes and braced myself for impact.

I was rolling onto my left elbow.

An overwhelming burning sensation had doubled me over. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from, my brain would not compute.

I wondered when someone would find me. I tried to get up but my body would not allow it. Putting weight on my cut right elbow made me scream, so I let my forehead support my weight so I could see whether anyone was coming down. At least it wasn’t my writing hand.

I decided to keep screaming, it was comforting to think that somehow my boyfriend may hear me. It also helped to slow my breathing down. My fitness tracker watch somehow had not been smashed and my pulse shot from 80 to 130 beats per minute, as my body trembled in shock, my temperature dropping.

After the second bout of screaming, my boyfriend blurred into view, jumping off with the bike still moving, wide-eyed.

Seeing my position and pain, he said “we need to call an ambulance.” My rational brain woke up. “My phone is in my bag” I croaked, struggling to speak loudly.

Our first Good Samaritan stopped, a tall, middle-aged man wearing glasses. My boyfriend did not have his phone and had not processed what I had said. “Does he have What Three Words” I asked. Incredibly, the stranger had the GPS application.

My boyfriend put me on the speakerphone and in between shrieks I answered. I was warned that an ambulance could take up to three hours.

They apologised, that was the non-urgent wait time as my life wasn’t immediately at risk. I wondered whether I would eventually pass out in agony.

My boyfriend jumped back on his bike to get the car.

Then Adam, my second knight in shining armour, rode to the rescue. He whipped out a full first aid kit, keeping me warm with a silver blanket and a thermal coat from his backpack.

“Yep, that looks broken” he said, and helped me to shuffle off the road on my bottom so I could rest against the wall.

With his encouragement I dared to extend my elbow slightly so it was supported on my helmet. The burning, pulsating sensation was increasing and I was glad that this kind man was keeping me company.

Distracting me, he told me how he had been a mountain bike guide for decades. He loved the outdoors. If I had not braked as hard I would have been OK, you have to let yourself skid.

My boyfriend arrived about 15 minutes later and we stashed my bike in a cottage driveway.

Every bump and corner caused strong shooting pains. The full waiting room of patients stared in horror as I staggered into Accident and Emergency like a zombie from Shaun of the Dead, my bruised and swollen elbow dangling out.

Administrators put me to the top of the queue and within minutes I was being checked over by a friendly triage doctor.

As she helped me into a hospital gown, I asked “it’s just a standard break isn’t it?”

“I think that’s optimistic.”

“They can just put a pot on it and send me home can’t they?”

“Again, I think that’s optimistic” she smiled.

“Go on, what do you think it is?”

She winced at my bulbous hinge joint. “I’d say it’s an open fracture, I don’t think you’ll be going home tonight.”

“Oh.”

We waited about an uncomfortable hour for assessment. I could not bend my elbow enough to sit down, so I was glad my boyfriend was there for me to lean on and he put a comforting arm round me. The patients sat in silence, until a man walked in, cheerfully telling someone on his mobile phone how he had sliced the top of his thumb off whilst preparing dinner.

An intact elbow for comparison.

The X-ray was interesting, it still looked like an elbow, until the medic pointed to where the olecranon, the funny bone, had slipped, the internal injury and the air that had infiltrated the joint.

A nurse tried to lift the elbow to put a pillow under it and ran off after I screamed, sending medics running to my aid. “Open fracture” I explained, they nodded and left.

WARNING: GORY WOUND

Then it was time for a temporary cast. I would not lie down as it increased the pain, so they made an exception for me and started it with me standing, then gave me gas and air as they urged me to get on the bed. I experienced a powerful bout of nausea followed by nearly blacking out. “It worked” the nurse said “or that would’ve really hurt.”

There was a panel of medics in scrubs looking at computer screens in front of me like traffic control.

Woozily, I slowly hauled myself up and asked a nurse where the toilet was. “I’ll show you when I’ve finished this”, she replied. Then she conferred with another nurse and I blearily followed that woman past resus until she sat down at another A and E ward.

“Sorry, I thought you were showing me where the toilet was”.

“Er, no” she responded, completely bewildered, “you’re best off going back”. After she pointed me there I got lost again, walking into “resus”, past people gasping for breath, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. This was more intense than my holding area. It was a relief when I bumped into the cast lady.

“What are you doing here?” she asked kindly, and showed me to the toilet.

It took over three hours to get a bed. The Theatre Recovery Unit was a long ward with many rooms. Mine was only half full. The nurse, Joy, was either elsewhere, chatting about her recent holiday with support worker Gloria, or telling demented Doris to go back to bed. Doris would then get up again, preferring to twirl a chair at the nurse station.

I smiled at a bespectacled middle-aged lady opposite and she just stared gloomily back and asked Joy “can I go home tomorrow?”.

After being kept “nil by mouth” pending the “highly unlikely” possibility of surgery, I was finally given a ham sandwich for dinner at 10.30pm, when I begged for it. Maybe I would get my elbow fixed the following day…

My first official group cycle

Recently I had the opportunity to join a women-only cycling group, Over-ride Ladies MTB (Mountain Bike). I heard about it whilst taking my bicycle in for the equivalent of an M.O.T. Rides are free and held weekly in various locations.

I am using my bike on the road so I think it is essential to get it checked out, even if I think it appears to be fine. In the end it needed minor repairs and ran much better for them. It was just £20.

One of the group members with a bike rack kindly gave me a lift. We cycled up to and around a local reservoir. There are many reasons why riding as a group is better:

– You feel more motivated and confident to do more exercising with others, seeing ladies zooming down the rocky road helped me see it could be done and I decided to try it. I kept my weight towards the back wheel and didn’t brake hard and it was safe. Seeing ladies in front ensured I kept the pace up.

– We had a good gossip whilst whizzing along.

– It boosted my mood, the positivity and enthusiasm of others was infectious.

– It’s safer, if you had an accident there would be someone to help.

I got back home that night feeling relaxed and happy. I am now trying to persuade my boyfriend to get a mountain bike so we can do charity cycle rides together. Bumping along over rough terrain is much more fun than dodging cars with a road bike. The thicker tyres cope well with any minor obstacles.

Enjoying the beautiful views with the sunset and meeting new people was so exhilarating, I can’t wait for the next one.

A Near Miss

Commuter cycling is the most dangerous form of transport, especially in the morning rush hour. Perhaps this explains why only 2% of us get to work on two wheels. 

I enjoy it because it gets me more alert and relaxed and saves me £11.50 a week, which adds up over time. It’s also exciting whizzing along as clumsy cars wait in a queue.

A few days ago though, I took my eyes off the road for the first time and the unthinkable happened.

I knew it was a possibility – all our cycling friends had been hit at least once. But I thought I was too careful for it to happen to me.

I was a little concerned about setting off late, it was already 8.15am and the roads were incredibly busy. There was a traffic jam briefly in the bus lane and I had to dodge round buses, motorbikes, school transport vehicles and even other cyclists. It was mayhem.

But after the jam everything seemed fine and I continued as usual. 

On my way to the junction I was keeping an eye out for pedestrians, giving space for cars coming out of side roads, slowing down when cars were switching lanes ahead, following all the usual safety precautions.

As the lights went green I felt the angry breath of a car monster on my back as it tried to turn impatiently. So I put my head down to get some speed for a split second.

I looked up just as a white van was turning into me. It hadn’t seen me speeding through in my bright blue top and high visibility vest. I jammed on the brakes hard, skidding along. I looked opened-mouthed at it coming towards me, bracing myself for the inevitable. By some miracle I stopped just before I hit the bonnet.

I pedalled on furiously. How could they not see me? I had right of way, they SHOULD have seen me. Arriving at my destination shaken, I got myself some calming chamomile tea and talked about it. Colleagues reminded me that the van’s driver would only have seen a blur if anything.

I later celebrated my survival with an indulgent shop at Waitrose.

Cyclist versus vehicle is all too common. In 2011 52 490 cyclists were injured on the roads and the number killed or seriously injured increased by 9%. In my city alone, “slight accidents” had risen by 15% in the last five years.

In my experience, cycle lanes are dangerously narrow, badly maintained, littered with broken glass and sometimes completely illogical, like the lane which stops before a vehicle bottleneck. We need street signs raising awareness of bicycles using the lanes.

My brother’s friend was knocked off in a hit and run, a family friend was injured by a car not leaving enough room, and a fellow zero emissions commuter told me how he once didn’t see a Land Rover and ended up in a neck brace. But even as a pedestrian the roads are perilous. A friend tripped over her shoes and landed across two lanes. The car on one side stopped but the bus didn’t see her. She rolled over and the wheels

passed inches from her head. Quick reactions can be the difference between life and death.

I think myself lucky that I escaped unharmed but learnt an important lesson. I haven’t let it stop me, indeed I cycled in to work today. Due to my added awareness I managed to avoid going into a car that had seen me, but thought that it could turn before I came towards it. How a driver can be on the road with that sort of spatial awareness I don’t know. I also dodged a car crossing into the lane I was in ahead of me, without leaving sufficient space.

I had inspired a friend to think about cycling to work, but she is now deterred by my near miss and safety warnings from her family.

However, I think it’s important to remember that if you keep safety in check, the health benefits will make two-wheeling worth it. Research shows that cyclists have lower weight, blood pressure and insulin levels. It can even cut the risk of breast cancer. I have certainly noticed my stamina and general fitness improve. I think it is still possible to cycle to work safely. Here’s how…

LEAVE AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE.

• I have found that the earlier before 8am the better. The roads are quieter, less traffic and I haven’t had an incident yet before this time.
• 
• THINK – CYCLE LIKE YOU DRIVE
• This is probably the best advice I have seen, from an accident lawyer. Since following this I have not had any trouble. Anticipate just as you would when driving.
• 1. Pedestrians – are they about to cross the road? If they are crossing the road, have they seen you?
• 2. Vehicles – have they seen you at junctions? Slow down until you can be sure they are not going to move off.
• Are they switching lanes? Let them do this ahead of you as they may not have seen you and so may not allow enough room.
• – Be aware of hidden side roads – cars can come shooting out of them so slow down when you pass them and look right into them.

DON’T RISK YOUR SAFETY FOR A MOTORIST’S CONVENIENCE

• If I had not been rushing to try to allow the tailgating car behind me to turn, I would have seen the van coming turning towards me.
• If I had been cycling in the middle of the lane the van would be more likely to have seen me. It is often better to cycle with the cars than at the side of the road, which can encourage them to pass you, sometimes without leaving enough room.

All this sounds obvious but it’s easily overlooked. Don’t ever get complacent because as soon as you lose concentration like I did, something could happen. But don’t let a brush with danger stop you getting on your bike. Stay safe out there everyone!

So what am I taking away from my experience?

 ALWAYS SLOW DOWN AND LOOK AS YOU GO THROUGH A JUNCTION.