A body of evidence

The good news is that I've recovered enough from my injuries to be able to blog again. I know, I'm sure you're all terribly relieved because there's nothing better to read on the planet than the indulgent ramblings of this particular nutter.

I took these pictures about a week after my rib-cracking flight over the Don Valley, the second crash in almost the same week I think...? It's a shame I didn't get these pics at the time (there was lots of blood/mud and the wounds looked really impressive) but it hurt way too much to pick up my camera! Actually, it hurt too much to do almost anything. Of all the injuries the two gashes to my left elbow (see picture right) are probably the most annoying. I must've landed in the trail elbows-first because a not insignificant amount of my skin and AB+ was invested in the dry earth there. It's annoying because I can't get them to scab over properly - they're both right on different sides of the bone so there's not much flesh underneath. Also, they're right on the pivot point of my elbow where the skin is constantly stretched every which way. Hence I've been going to bed wearing a long-sleeved top after waking up one morning to find that the bedsheet had mysteriously become part of my arm during the night. You'd be surprised how much one leans on one's elbows in an average day, although I'm starting to finally learn that hurts so probably shouldn't be done.

The most innocuous wound is where some vicious flora stabbed me in the back of my right thigh (see picture left) as I was somersaulting through the air...or should I say undergrowth. This makes it hurt when I sit down, and being the GAD sufferer I am I just assume everyone thinks I have haemorrhoids.

The most serious, and yet disappointing injury by far is the bruised and/or cracked ribs on the left side of my rib cage. There's no photo because there's nothing to see, and this is the disappointing part given how much it hurts.

And in different ways too. At the peak of the painfulness, getting out of bed was a humiliating five-to-ten-minute affair. As you can imagine, bending or stretching out from a prone position was impossible because of the ribs, and I couldn't prop myself up on my left elbow because that hurt too much too. I tried to roll myself out of bed and onto the floor and got trapped halfway on the ledge that runs along the side of the mattress one morning. Thankfully I didn't drop any money at this time, because reaching as far as the ground was an utter impossibility, and attempting it was enough to make me yelp out loud with the pain. If it had've been a $20 note then I'd have just had to stand on it with one foot, and remain in that place - wherever it was - for three or four days until my flexibility returned.

Good job it didn't happen on the street somewhere.

Basic bodily functions became a battle of endurance too. I lived in fear of the humble sneeze, which would take me by surprise and made me actually scream out loud. Coughing was out of the question too, particularly when you consider that it hurt too much to even clear my throat. This for a couple of days I sounded like Darth Vader dying of cancer as the phlegm death-rattled and rasped in my throat whenever I spoke. I couldn't blow my nose either so had to rely upon fingernails a lot of the time.

Going for a poo wasn't a barrel of laughs either. Did you know you used your ribs to poo? I didn't until I tried it. Damn, that hurt. My Mum had previously suggested I eat lots of fruit to make sure I didn't have to strain too hard, and I think she meant it as a joke but it turned out to be uncannily accurate. I'm not one of these people who treats dropping Mr. Brown off at the coast as a genuine day trip - I don't disappear into the bathroom with a book or a magazine for 45 minutes. Either I just don't appreciate it all that much or it doesn't stimulate my prostate gland as much as it does in other men. However, during my period of injury I found myself sat on the throne one day wishing there was a bottle of cod liver oil somewhere within reach. The idea would have been to chug the entire litre so that everything would just pour out of me as I finished off 'War and Peace'.

It's (literally) a relief to have all my *cough cough* movements working again properly, although the ribs are still twinging enough to make my shy away from the idea of an off-road ride anywhere. In a way this works out well because it gives me time to get the two pairs of wheels I've damaged fixed at the bike shop.

Equally, non-cycling parts of my lifestyle have been affected too. I haven't been able to grocery shop because there's no way I'd be able to lift the rucksack, get it on, or carry the additional bags I usually carry. Lifting weights is out of the question too, so the combination of zero exercise and only intermittent eating has my body looking in pretty poor shape...before you even consider the 'orrible yellow hue that the bruises currently are.

Anyway, the good news about all this is despite the pain and the inconvenience, I'm not really put off riding again, nor riding that particular trail. This is one of several signs of improved resilience lately, along with the communication breakdown I had with my magazine editor the other day. I seem to be coping better, which reminds me - I need to update my 'moods' line graph.