Lessons I've Learned From Kissing the Pavement

Lessons I’ve Learned From Kissing the Pavement

May 9, 2012

My Beloved Bessie

No matter the obstacle, no matter the tragedy (real or perceived) that might befall me in life, I always look for the ‘lesson.’ And there is ALWAYS a lesson; I learned very early on that if I fail to seek the lesson, if I fail to understand the lesson, and if I delay my learning of the lesson...I am doomed to repeat the mistake until the lesson is learned. So let’s get right to the point...what is the lesson after a bad motorcycle accident (is there ever a good motorcycle accident?)? 

One might think the lesson is ‘never get on a motorcycle again,’ but not for this girl. I will ride again; it is one of the few things in life that feed my soul. The awareness of what ‘feeds my soul,’ came a little late in life for me; although I would wager to say that most people go through life never discovering that Nirvana, that bliss of knowing what feeds your soul. To be one with a machine, to feel the wind on my face, to click off the miles on a twisty, turny piece of asphalt, and to reach the end of a journey only to think, ‘what’s next?’ is where I choose to be. No, the lesson was NOT about riding again.

Lesson #1: SEQUINS ARE NOT ADEQUATE PROTECTIVE GEAR. It’s crazy, but each time I ‘take off’ on a road trip, I’m wearing my helmet, I’m wearing good boots, I’m wearing long sleeves and usually my leather chaps. When I take off for ‘local trips,’ I guess I think it’s ok because I’m close to home (where 90% of the accidents happen right?!). After kissing the pavement, my head required 16 staples (ouch), my teeth were missing which required six stitches in my lip, and a significant amount of skin was scraped off my shoulder, back, hip (big ouch). The trauma team spent an inordinate amount of time extracting sequins that had literally been embedded in my skin! 

Lesson #2: PAIN IS HUMBLING. When I came to on the pavement, I saw half a dozen ‘biker angels’ hovering over me asking me questions and trying to keep me stabalized until the EMT’s arrived. I will always be grateful to the nameless faces that tended to me seconds after the accident - pay it forward. My first question was ‘where’s my camera?’ and then this blinding pain seared through my body from head to toe and all points beyond.....ouch. How do you like those sequins and boot jewelry now??! Damn. I knew I wasn’t dead because I was answering questions and if I were dead, it wouldn’t hurt this bad. I kept floating in/out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of the helicopter ride to Orlando Regional Med Center. The thought that kept racing through my head was ‘my daughter is going to be so pissed that I didn’t have my helmet on.’ At some point in the night, I gave into the pain, I dug down so deep and burrowed into it, made it mine, embraced it, and celebrated in it. It let me know I was alive and could be grateful for it. After 24 hours I refused the meds, I gritted my teeth and allowed the Physical Therapist to pull me out of bed, my head swimming as though I was the only one on the Tilt a Whirl at this hour, my legs unsure of what their function in my life was. I allowed my daughter to dress me in clothes she had brought from her closet because mine were cut away from me in the trauma room. In that instant, it occurred to me how quickly we can turn from caring for our children to being cared for by them. The pain robbed me of sleep, it robbed me of comfort, but it didn’t rob me of life....it has humbled me.

Lesson #3: ALLOW YOUR FRIENDS TO SHOW THEIR LOVE BY TAKING CARE OF YOU. The doctors who tended to me at ORMC would not allow me to go home unless they knew I had 24 hour care for a few weeks. Tough assignment for a woman who is fiercely independent and has lived alone with her children for the better part of 16 years. I always knew I had dedicated friends who loved me; I just never had to take advantage of that kindness until the accident. It’s difficult for me to allow myself to be ‘taken care of,’ in any fashion. I had no choice; my daughter ( God love her, she was so brave and patient with her ‘Trauma Mama’) came home with me the first three nights, literally sleeping next to me to make sure I was ok. When she had to return to work, she gently bundled me up and transported me to my friend Ann’s. I will never forget the look on Ann and Mickie’s (they are like ‘mom’ and ‘grandma’ to me) faces when I slowly shuffled into her house (I refused to let anyone but my daughter and friend Steve come to the hospital)...the reality of how bad the accident was, was reflected in my appearance at that moment. As a friend, I would not hesitate to step up to the plate and take care of another person ...why is it so difficult to be the one taken care of? It’s what friendship is all about; a shoulder to lean on, a sounding board for problems, a source of reassurance. Ann, Mickie, Lin, Arlene...they all hovered around me like the proverbial mother hens, changing bandages, plumping pillows, helping me shower, helping me dress, making jello, heating soup, and most importantly - finding a way to make me laugh through it all....I am forever grateful for the kindness and unselfishness of these women friends. Many more called, many more reached out via text and Facebook....I am grateful - and humbled - by you all.

Lesson #4: MY OWN PAIN WILL GIVE ME COMPASSION FOR OTHERS. I admit it; I consider pain a sign of weakness, ‘What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger (Nietsche).”  I don’t tolerate whiners, I avoid chronic complainers, and my favorite line is ‘I’m fine.’ I forget exactly what prompted it - probably my impatience with myself - but my friend Ann said, ‘stop it, this episode will help you understand others pain/discomfort a little better.’ She’s right; there are times when genuine pain is all there is; recognize it, accept it, release it.

Lesson #5: LIFE IS SHORT; LIVE IT WITH PASSION AND TO HELL WITH CONVENTION. You don’t wake up one morning and realize, ‘life is gonna get real different for me today because of an accident, so let me do this differently.’ Nope. It’s not that tidy; life turns on a dime. You don’t see it coming, you don’t sense it coming, there is no fanfare, burning bush, a parting of the waters or great epiphany. Boom! It happens and you are left on the pavement at the side of road wondering WTF!? And if you are fortunate enough to survive that moment, life gets real different afterward - both physically and in your head. Is this it? Is this what I want my life to be? My answer is ‘no.’ I’ve been given a chance to walk a deeper walk. In recent years - as my children have left home and as I’ve gotten older - I vowed to live my life on my terms, color outside the lines whenever I feel like it, move in the direction that feeds my soul, and grab all the flavor I can muster from my day to day activities. That conviction was deepened, redefined somehow by the accident. The story isn’t over yet, that wasn’t the ending, and there is a whole lot more to go ‘in the middle’ of my life.

Lesson #6: NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, KEEP YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. Laughter is truly the best medicine. I absolutely insist on enjoying life, and I insist on laughing out loud as frequently as possible...it’s the conduit for living happy, joyous and free.

Bessie2

Yes, there were many lessons to be learned from kissing the pavement; I’m sure, with time, a few more will crop up, be recognized and dealt with. Did I mention FAITH? No, because I’ve already learned that lesson; a faith in a God of my understanding. Each time I climb on my bike I pray that God circle my Guardian angels around me and help me to arrive safely at my destination. And each time I climb off my bike, I say ‘Thank You God for another safe journey.’ The power of prayer is evident in my life. The saying among bikers is, ‘never ride faster than your Guardian Angel can fly,’ and I wasn’t that day...he was right with me, keeping me safe for what is yet to come.