Biking Accident

I had a biking accident on Monday. My friend was biking me to the lake, where we were supposed to run and enjoy the last sun for the week. She was picking up speed as the road turned uphill, oblivious of the pole that was too close to my legs.

Too close that it hit and tore open a thumb-sized skin from my left knee.

As strange as it may sound, at the split second before it hit me, there was a voice on my head: It's going to hit you. And it did. Hard.

The pain was immediate. I had to gasp very deeply just to breathe. I looked down and what I saw almost made me faint. I could see my flesh. And blood, slowly looming over the torn skin.

The thing about me is that I have an unjustified fear of blood. So when I saw blood trickling down my legs I became lightheaded. So lightheaded that I had to sit down and later sleep on the ground as my friend called an ambulance.

The guy came half an hour later, cleaned and wrapped a bandage on my wound and advised that I go to a real hospital to get it stitched. I looked directly into his eyes, squeezed his hands and muttered I'm scared. The first time I said that since a year of living alone.

I know I am a drama queen when it comes to some disruptions to my personal well being (ie. fearing of amputation when I paper-cut my finger). But this was different. I had never had an accident before, never hurt myself. No serious wounds nor illnesses, no scar.

And there I was, the thought of going to a hospital, not visiting but getting stitches made me shiver all over.

The nurse held my hand really tight. I was so scared that my sentences didnt really make sense. I kept on telling her that this is my first and worst accident and Im scared.

In between the sedatives, she said: if this is your worst, then you are one very lucky girl, arent you?

Am I?

After the screaming, crying, cursing and weirdly enough, laughing, I ended up with 6 stitches. Fortunately no bone was broken. Right now I am living on my couch, and slight movement made me wince with pain. I cant walk, I cant run, I cant go kickboxing eventhough it is Wednesday.

I'm trying to be positive about this, I really do. But at the moment I feel as if the stitches just unstitched my self. Maybe it's just because I have too much time to think. I know this is just stitches that will go away in a week, the wound will dry in a month. But at the moment I cant help but think of the what ifs. I close my eyes and the image of the second before my knee hit the pole came flooding in.

And I hate myself for thinking that.

Maybe this is the perspective Ive been asking for. And here I have it, loud and painfully clear. But why cant I be grateful for it?

Maybe in time.

Survived the Flight!

Yestterday is such an unideal day to fly. The turbulent was NONSTOP. And a baby behind me wont stop screaming. And dont get me wrong, I have nothing against babies. It's just I was certain this one was an aspiring banshee in the making. If I wasnt so hungry I would have shoved my German cheesecake to better use.

At one point I was bound to release the drinks given by the cute steward. Unfortunately I had a window seat. And when I finally gave in, I nudged the Dutchie sitting next to me, signaling that I have to pass through him to go to the loo. Half asleep, he was unaware that I am not the stick girl. Thus I couldnt get pass the LIMITED space that he provided by SLIGHTLY moving his LONG legs. I was like I dont think I can pass. Instead of standing up and allowing me to pass through LIKE ANY GENTLEMEN WOULD, he SPREADED HIS LEGS. Eventually I had to hug the seat infront of me and lift my legs high enough so my thinner ankles can get through. One leg after another.

I thought I was going to make it. That is, until I was between his legs and my right ankle GOT STUCK ON HIS EARPHONES. I had to bend over to release it, and instead of helping he just straighen his seat. STRAIGHTENING YOUR SEAT DOES NOT HELP, IF ITS NOT OBVIOUS YET AT THIS POINT. Since it was dark, it took me some times before I managed to take that bloody cables off me. When I got up, I just realized what an awkward position that was.

I immediately looked and felt like Bambi caught stealing cucumbers from the neighbors. I tried my best to mimic I KNOW THIS LOOKS BAD BUT ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. But I think I just look like I needed to pee that bad.

Regardless I arrived save and sound. I knew we were in Holland when I looked out and it was all pastures. We went lower, lower and lower. Until I made a mental countdown: 3.

2...

..1.

Bam.

And we arrived in Schipol.

Sister getting married!

Finally we're in Bali. We've been on housearrest for the past week to get ready for the wedding. Last Monday me, my sister and brother wanted to dive with the sharks. We were talking about it next to Mom. When she realized what we're planning, her face changed. Bottom part she said no, under various risks of contacting TBC from the tube, stung by jellyfishes or eaten by sharks.

Then we conceded to going to kboxing practice instead. The look on Mom's face. Murderous.

But here we are in Bali! The sun is amazing. Unfortunately Mom said she's going to paint us back white is we have the courage to get a tan before the wedding.

So we had to wear 3 LAYERS OF 50+ SPF SUNBLOCK, as well as WEAR AN ANTI-UV UMBRELLA ALL DAY LONG while other tourists take pictures of us as they think we're some kind of a weird tribe.

On being home

Denica is home, baby. Arrived last week-ish, been preoccupied with writing paper. The only break I'm getting is now, when waiting for my supervisor's comments.

How is it like to finally be home?

Funny. Everything is the same as how I left it. Makes me feel I've been timetravelling back to before I left for Holland.

What amuses me is my 'first' re-experiences with some stuff. First time I stepped back into my room. The smell. The big bed. The soft plush stuffed toys. The big wardrobe. The convinience of having me own bathroom.

First time I touched my piano. How I just sat and stared at the keys. Feels weird. Really weird.

First time running on the treadmill again. Feels awkward. Havent been running in a straight, smooth line sheltered like that for 8 months.

First time coming out of the airport, seeing the looks on Ma and Pa. (Yes, my siblings found me coming home not a good enough reason to get off from their beds. Lazy bastards.) The ear-to-ear smile.

First time eating without having to cook. First time not having to clean my own room. First time driving again. First time not having to paddle to go somewhere. First time not wearing jeans for a whole week now. Nor coats. Nor anything that's basic function is intended to give you warmth.

First time knowing that your family is just in the next room.

First time missing Rotterdam. First time missing those freakshows. First time missing my kboxing practices and Wednesday rituals of biking back and forth with hunger and tiredness. First time missing how I like my eggs boiled. First time missing shopping for food from nearby Albert Heijn. First time missing lectures. First time missing going to the local pubs.

I guess there is the good and the bad part of any places, any where you are. Guess all you can do is make the most of now, because with absolute certainty am I certain that I will miss this hot, humid city once I'm biking in rain and wind.