Lastima, Otra Vez

It's amazing the variety of bad things that have happened to me on this trip, most notably in Latin America.  I understand that that is what differentiates this trip; it's not a vacation, but an adventure and there will always be downs with the ups... but come on now, haven't I dealt with enough?

A little over a week ago, I met a family in Popayan.  I was looking for a place to camp after riding all day, and the last hour had pouring rain.  After being denied at a ranch (for some reason been getting rejected to camp lots of times in Colombia), I started talking to some people who I thought were the owners.  I gave my usual shpeel about, literally, just needing some ground/dirt/grass to pitch my tent, cook some dinner, sleep, and leave the following morning.  With looks of mercy and compassion, they noticed right away that I was soaked and cold in the frigid mountain rain, and didn't hesitate to invite me to their home.

I ended up staying a couple days with them and we even spent a wonderful night and day relaxing at their ranch nearby.  Nuvia, Felipe, Jose, Stephi, Santiago, Emmanuel... such a wonderful group of people, so helpful and generous.  We had a marvelous time together, filled with lots of laughs, and a few of my stories from the road.  The two days went by quick, and I could feel the push to get back riding.

I had covered a lot of ground leaving Medellin, quick.  I was back to my old strategy of riding for at least 5-6 hours a day.  This translates into most of the day in the saddle, with quick breaks to eat something and/or stretch.  Dropping into the hot valley near Cali, I had a couple consecutive days that I did 150km.  Logging some long days posting some high numbers, always has built my confidence, and I had Ecuador in my sights.

I left Popayan early in the morning, around 830,  much earlier than I normally do, with the comforts in cities/towns: bed, shower, wifi... roof.  Always tough to get going early. From the advice of Felipe, I got going early to try and avoid a lot of the post holiday weekend traffic.  Leaving town, I was feeling real positive about getting back on the road, and not the usual sort of first day back kind of gloom (always passes).  I had a few up and downs to get through and finally reached the outskirts of the city (I was also riding the road that bypasses the city altogether, much more quiet and pleasant).

I started going down a hill, into a right hand sweeping broad curve.  As I always do, as I generate more velocity, especially over 30km/h, I move out into the lane to keep the cars from sandwiching me between them and the shoulder.  This provides ample space and time to avoid debris or holes in the road.  Not only that, but there were road signs on the shoulder indicating that there was road construction, just ahead.  As I was riding through the curve, now around 50km/h, I couldn't believe my senses when I realized a microbus (basically just diesel van) was trying to pass me.  In a blind curve, on a hill, a cyclist in the lane traveling at a very substantial speed (definitely not impeding traffic), and road construction maybe 100 meters ahead.

Before I knew it, the microbus tried to pass in the other lane, cut back into my lane, without completely passing me.  The last thing I remember, was it cutting me off and hitting my left front pannier bag.  "OH SHIT!" I thought.

In a blur, I hit the ground, slid for who knows how long.  When I initially hit, I saw stars for a moment and that kind of bright, shocking, flash of light alarming my whole body.  When I finally stopped, pain surged through my entire body and I couldn't believe that I had just crashed.  I yelled out from the intense pain, and was slightly in shock.  I was in the middle of the road, on the ground, with my bike, in a turn, on a hill, in Latin America (bad drivers!)  I knew right away that I had to get up and off the road, but couldn't right away.  The shock and pain kept me down for some amount of time, maybe 15 seconds, I don't know.

I finally got up, out of the road, and surveyed the damage:  blood and pain all over my right hand, road rash all over my left side, leg, hip, elbow, shoulder, and the kicker was obviously something wrong with my shoulder itself with intense pain and inability to move it.

The driver got out (glad didn't drive off), and came to check on me.  I was furious and in such pain, I let him have it and started yelling at him.  Asking him why he passed me in the curve, what was he thinking?  Exclaiming where I have come from by bike, and his stupid maneuver may have put an end to my aspiration! 

I was so angry because I knew right away that this may have just cost me my whole trip.  That maybe like my friend Karl, I would need surgery on my clavicle and months of recuperation, thus terminating my trip right then.  I was in disbelief that some idiot from Popayan, could very well have shattered my dream of finishing riding across the Americas.  That in one year, more than 17,000km, thousands of hours cycling, and thinking of the end goal... could be cut short.  In one single moment, it's over.

The police arrived in a short while.  They asked me repeatedly if I needed an ambulance, and I told them every time: not until my bike and gear are secured.  I also explained that my hospital attention could wait, I wanted to make the police report and give my statement on the spot.  I could hear the driver trying to say something like I swerved into him.

The first thing I thought of (cannot imagine what I would have done without them) was to call Felipe and Nuvia.  In no time at all, Felipe arrived and took my belongings in his truck, the police took my bike for the "investigation".  I went in another police vehicle to the hospital.

Expect the worst, hope for the best.  When you expect less, you get more.  With no expectations, you're less likely to be disappointed.
- my personal motto that has helped me lots

Following my personal motto, I knew that either my shoulder was either dislocated, clavicle broken, or maybe something worse.  The paramedics arrived at the scene, rinsed all of my wounds off with saline, and when the female paramedic looked at my already swollen shoulder, she explained that it probably wasn't broken or dislocated because I could move it.  I wish she hadn't said that, it gave me hope... and I started to expect something minor from what they would tell me at the hospital.

Nuvia arrived at the hospital, shortly after I did.  Together we waited the entire day, with the usual hospital crawl (something I've been through FAR too many times).  Nuvia is such a warm kind person.  She is a mother of 4, and  conveys that loving motherly comfort openly.

As we sat waiting, talking about what happened, my trip in it's entirety came under discussion.  I explained that my mom will probably go nuts when she finds out what happened.  She told me about some terrible accidents and times shes been through (she was in a car wreck, broke her leg, arm, and hip.  Had something like 8 months to get better).  She also told me about when she was practicing law, she was working in the DA's office and had some tough cases.  She elaborated how the cases were really taking a toll on her emotionally, with her family, it was obvious she had to do something.  She felt compelled to continue because she was helping people, she had a goal to fulfill.  Her family urged her to do change her situation, so she quit, and together her and Felipe run a small store in Popayan that provides agricultural products to the farmers.  She straightforwardly told me 'Miguel, sometimes you just have to know when to stop'.

I started thinking about what she told me.  She was right.  I said, 'yeah maybe it's time'.  After all, like in my other post when I posed the question, what does it take for me to stop?  I mean I don't want it to get to the point that I'm incapable of living a functional and happy life after this.  There are so many other trips and expeditions I want to do.  So many seas to sail.  So many waves to surf.  It's a very difficult question to answer.

Turns out my clavicle is broken, all the way through, but fortunately did not separate and thus does not require surgery.  I have to wear an immobilizer, that simply holds my arm to my body.  They say it's at least four weeks of healing with the immobilizer.  Plus of course the time to regain the strength in my arm as the muscles slowly atrophy.

I have lots of road rash, possibly the deepest I've ever had.  At the hospital, I had this female nurse that was clearly heartless.  She had to clean my wounds.  Instead of using a soft gauze, for example, and dabbing with some iodine or alcohol to sterilize, she used a cotton rag and scrubbed my wounds like they were the dirty kitchen sink.  As I gasped for air between painful grunts, she would occasionally pause to show me on the rag the dirt she was pulling out, and as she scrubbed would simply say 'tranquilo' like there was nothing to it.

Taking a shower the first few times, and still now even, is quite painful.  When the cold, soapy, water comes in contact with my wounds, it's like electricity through my body, in bolts of pain.  The first time taking a shower, left me standing with the water off, such searing pain I didn't want to move to make it worse or let alone even consider drying off with a towel.

A week later I'm starting to feel a little better.  The first few days, besides the obvious, I was so sore.  Slamming into the pavement so fiercely and abruptly, my back was sore between my shoulder blades and I couldn't sneeze.  The impact itself on my leg, gave me a hefty bruise around the wound and down my leg.  My neck and shoulders were so stiff.  I am so glad I was wearing my helmet, it cracked in three places and has significant scrape marks along the one side.  The impact broke off my helmet visor and mirror.

My leg wound has become infected.  The gash is inconveniently located just below my hip on my leg, so my boxers and shorts squeeze and tighten on it when I'm walking or sitting, so the scab gets pulled off and thus remains open.

Considering how fast I was going, to me it's rather reassuring that my injuries, although substantial, aren't worse.  The first couple days I started thinking.  I mean for something as terrible as this to happen, it couldn't have happened in a better place.  I have a family taking care of me, feeding me fantastic, delicious, healthy meals.  Nuvia was a practicing lawyer with tons of experience, and has been exceptionally helpful, advising on me of things I need to do (when I understand).  Hopefully just a few weeks and I can get back to trying to get through this difficult journey.  I mean when I get through with this trip, just think of what a story it would make.  After everything that's happened, than a stupid microbus takes me out, breaking a bone with road rash.  Then continuing the trip, when it's a good enough reason to call it.  This is the kind of mentality to finish a trip such as this, to endure.

Since the accident I've been really busy.  Bouncing along in pain on the local bus to downtown, with clearly worn out shocks, my broken bone screams at me "OWW, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!".  I've already gone to the district attorney's office to file a claim for damages and expenses i.e. expenses to fix my bike, equipment, cost living in Popayan while recuperating, etc.  Most everybody I've dealt with has been been quite helpful.  I'm noticeably in pain as I limp in to the buildings, with the brace on my arm.  As Nuvia put it, it's a bit of an advantage, they see me and think "pobre gringo". 

It's just another difference that I compare with the U.S.  When I talk to people here, they have a genuine look on their face when they ask me how I'm doing.  It just seems different, than for instance when I called the embassy to see what they could provide.  The girl that answered, explained in that new-age valley girl accent, that they could only provide assistance in arranging a way back to the states.  Then when she asks me if I'm ok, sounded routine and part of the protocol, not like she actually cared.  I mean the forensics MD  that did my legal health evaluation as part of the claim, at the end gave me her personal cell phone number to call if I had any questions or concerns.  Because my leg wound is now infected, she saved me a trip to the hospital and hours waiting again, and recommended a good antibiotic and treatment.

So looks like I'm going to really know Popayan.  I'm moving to a hotel in a few days because the family has people coming to stay.  As part of the claim, the company of the microbus/insurance hopefully is paying for the hotel.  Although I'll miss Nuvia's fantastic cooking, and the families fine hospitality, I feel a little relieved.  They reassured me multiple times, after the accident that I could stay with them, but they have already helped me so much and don't want burden them anymore.

Sunday I remembered there's always American Football games during the season.  So I went down to the mall and where they show games.  Of course there was some important fútbol game on, and everyone was there watching it.  I didn't even bother asking until the game was over, to see if they could put something on.  Still, after the game, they gave me the look and explained something about not being able to, oh well.  Maybe I'll try again Thanksgiving day.  Everyone will be at work, just another day for everyone here, except for the sole gringo in Popayan.

During this healing time,  I know I'm going to get lazy and out of shape.  I know it's going to be a long few weeks of recovery (hell it's already been one, long enough) where I will very surely get quite antsy.  I also know, like with the other times, significant time off of the bike makes for a hard time when I get back on.  I'm going to have one nearly useless arm in a few weeks that I will have to rehabilitate promptly.  Legs that will look at me as though I'm crazy when I ask them to drive 80 kilos of gear and steel through the Andes mountain range towards Ecuador.  Like always, I'll get back into shape, and continue if I can.  Fall off the bike, get back on and keep going.  When I get to Quito, and I will be getting there by my bike, I will provide a more thorough and detailed post with lots of pictures.  Until then, use your imagination.  Typing this up with one hand was definitely a lengthy process, but I have all the time in the world now.

For those of you up north, enjoy Thanksgiving.  Have an extra slice of apple pie for me.

In pain and anger