It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

photo credit: SdimS.com

You are cordially invited to my pity party. I am sore from head to toe, I have nasty scrapes on my face, arm and leg and my right knee is currently the size of a small watermelon. "But, One Gal's Trash," you may ask: "How did this happen?"

On Sunday, my husband, our kids and I took part in the Bridge Pedal ride, an annual event where the bridges of Portland are closed to car traffic and thousands of people ride their bikes over the bridges and through the city. Sounds like a great idea in theory. But in practice, I ended up in the Emergency Room at Good Samaritan Hospital. In fact, out of 18,000 participants, 3 were carted away in the back of an ambulance. I was one of those three.

We were about 8 miles into the ride (which, I would like to say, is a pretty big accomplishment for me) when a small child on a smaller bike rode right in my path. There was no place for me to go except down. I remember thinking "This is going to hurt!" I banged my head and my right arm and knee. HARD. I was wearing my helmet ~ which is lucky because a few minutes earlier I had taken it off and thought about not putting it back on because it didn't match my bike.

So I fell, tried to sit up, realized I was hurt and started crying like a baby. It must have been adrenaline because I'm usually not weepy in these circumstances. Put me in front of a holiday Hallmark commercial, and I'm a puddle, but I almost never cry in a crisis. Anywho, a Portland firetruck shows up and several helpful and very cute firefighters hop out. They started asking me questions like: "What is your name?" "Pam." "Who is the president?" "NOT GEORGE BUSH!" I started to walk and realized that this was not a good idea. At that point, the paramedics arrived and started poking and prodding me and sticking oxygen up my freckled nose. As they got me on the stretcher and rolled me into the back of the ambulance, I tried to reassure my kids and husband that I was going to be o.k. But to tell the truth, I was scared and hurt and trying not to think about Natasha Richardson.

On the way to the hospital, one of the paramedics was talking at me, I think in an effort to keep me awake. He told me that another biker had taken a fall earlier in just about the same place as me. She lost consciousness for 5 minutes. They had taken her to the Trauma unit at Emanuel Hospital. And she was wearing a helmet.

So I got to the hospital and the nurses were kind and the doctor was great and quite funny. Had x-rays taken of my knee...No breaks or cracks. When the doctor told me it wasn't broken, I said, "Well, then how come it hurts so much?" He looked straight at me and said "Because you just fell off your bike." Oh, right. Mark and the kids arrived and were sweet and offered me Junior Mints to ease the pain.

And those cute firefighters? They rescued my bike, put it in their truck and took it back to the station for safekeeping. We picked it up on the way home.

Anyway, here I am; very, very lucky and sore and feeling sorry for myself. So girls, if you are so inclined, please send me a quick Hello or a dumb joke.
Love,
Pam ~ One Gal's Trash