Collision with a skip lorry – what a lucky saddle…

Collision with a skip lorry – what a lucky saddle…

So, when you are cycling day in day out, during the rush hour to get to the office and back, you know that at some point, unfortunately, you are likely to have a near miss or an actual accident. It’s only a matter of time surely?

Yup. It is. After a good couple of years of commuting, it happened to me. And it was pretty fricking scary and it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But, I am a lucky saddle. I recovered well, my bike wasn’t beyond repairable, and the utter main thing… my unborn baby wasn’t hurt – I was 5 months pregnant and just on my way to work to let them know. Oops. Instead I had to break the news from a stretcher, my boss was pretty speechless.

I remember the day so clearly. I was going about my usual commute in the usual way, late again so speeding along the fast open road at Portchester. There were a couple of chaps ahead of me, I was hunting them down, I gradually caught up with them and overtook them (with a smug look on face… which was about to be wiped off).

Doing around 23mph (eyes down looking at the speedo – the ultimate faux pas) I could hear a loud engine noise, and instinctively I knew it wasn’t on my side, it was coming from ahead, from the cycle path I was in. So I looked up, and straight away thought shit, I knew I was in trouble. I pulled the brakes (did you know you should replace your brake pads frequently??  I didn’t… you can see where this going can’t you?!!) I didn’t stop, I barely slowed down.

Quickly thinking I pulled sharply to the right to try and clear the skip lorry. It didn’t work. My left hand side ploughed into the side of the vehicle and catapulted me in the air like someone flicking a rubber band. And then the whole slow motion thing happened, like Keanu out the matrix, although not as cool.

Whilst in the air I thought how selfish I had been to the poor little baby in my belly, and then that natural mother instinct kicked in, I had to protect him/her from what was about to happen. I formed into a ball arms folded around my belly and landed square on my bum. Ouch, f*&king ouch. No amount of padding in my shorts was going to take that impact.

I sat in the road for quite a while, in shock, my ears were ringing, and a strange purple haze came over. It was all nice and quiet and pretty. I sat holding my belly, praying all was ok, and thinking shit I am going to be in trouble with the boyfriend and parents for this!

And so, those chaps I overtook, they caught up with me (my smug face had completely vanished), and as luck would have, they were on their way to QA hospital to start their shifts! They looked me over and seemed a little concerned by the blood coming from my ear (turns out it was a cut in my ear) and were shocked when I told them I was 5 months pregnant. I can still hear one of them muttering.. oh Jesus Christ.

Very quickly, an ambulance came, and I was on a stretcher, being inspected and having my trousers cut off as they suspected a broken leg, along with a broken collarbone… I joked about my un-matching underwear (trust me) and everyone laughed. I then phoned my boss to tell him I wouldn’t be in the office that day (or for the next few weeks it would turn out), and told him I was pregnant – god I wish I could have seen his face!! Then I phoned the boyfriend, to tell him what a plonker I had been, and then it happened, I broke down, the extent of the situation had started to sink in and I was petrified.

The rest is a bit of a haze. I remember being in pain, lots of pain, choking on some paracetamol the paramedics gave me (I wasn’t allowed morphine) and breathing on gas – great practice for the real thing! At the hospital I had to wait ages for someone to confirm that the baby was ok – the longest wait of my life, and again, I broke down when the doctor heard the heartbeat and I felt that recognisable flutter. Poor thing, it must have been a bumpy ride.

By now, Tim was at my bedside and so was my mum. When they pulled the curtain back, I gave them that look please don’t tell me off, I’m sorry.

I had x-rays which showed a nice clean break on my collarbone – they said I had done a great job – well done me! Thankfully my leg was not broken, just very badly bruised; they said my strong leg muscles had no doubt protected the bone (and very quickly that smug face returned).

And that was it, they strapped me up, and sent me off with a prescription for the strongest painkillers I was allowed to take (turns out they weren’t strong enough). I walked through the hospital looking like something out the zombie’s apocalypse, a bloodied head with glue, ripped clothing, blood stained top and a strange walk and groan.

The next 6 weeks were pretty tough, I couldn’t eat with a fork and knife, I couldn’t wash or tie my hair up, I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t lift heavy things, and I couldn’t cycle. I was lost. My saving grace was the Tour de France was on, I spent my days watching it, and felt all too much the pain when Mark Cavendish broke his collarbone at stage one of the race. I cried for him and for me.

I was desperate to get back on the bike. One day, Tim came home from work and found me in front of the Tour de France with my new helmet on (as my helmet had been smashed in the accident – probably saved my life). I think he was slightly concerned that I had finally lost the plot, but I was just excited about getting back on, it hadn’t put me off.

I heard from the police who were investigating the accident, as they said the vehicle was illegally parked in the cycle track. But they never tracked down the driver (who mysteriously disappeared at the time of the accident). But we all knew he wasn’t the only one to blame, I should have been more aware of my surroundings… and had brakes that worked…. Lesson learnt. The hard way.

And so, 18 months on, I am back on the same bike which was beautifully repaired by Tim, doing the same journey. Our little boy, Jude, is fit and well; at just a year old he has taken to bikes and already has 3 bikes himself (poor thing inherited the cycling bug). I now cycle with my head up, check my brakes frequently, and keep my distance from skip lorries.

For that day, I was a lucky saddle…


 

strava jpeg

 

 

 

 

 

The ride caught on Strava – you can see where I have been carried out of the road, onto a stretcher and into the ambulance!

 

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My mate, Matt, the joker sent me this picture the day after my accident. Such a caring and sensitive guy.

 


 

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