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.