Now that I have finally settled in, I can start focusing on the entire reason I started this mess – to help clean up a bigger mess. Me. At least until my next departure date arrives and my anxiety grows until I find out if I’m leaving on time, delayed, or at all. Anyone want to pull tabs? Ok. Enough stalling. Let’s get the show on the road.
As I sat inside my “boutique style” motel room staring out the front window and writing this intro, I got to observe an older retired couple from Tennessee pack up their sport touring bikes and prepare to head out into the morning’s gorgeous 64 degree weather. Does it make me miss my bike? Of course it… Seriously? Fast forward 3 hours later and no joke, right as I share that memory, those same two bikes pass by the Starbucks I was typing this entry from. So yeah, now more than ever. I miss my bike.
I have been on my own and independent since I was 18. Thirty years later this independent, eclectic, renaissance man wakes up one day unable to move 3 of his 4 limbs, forced to piss in a hard plastic container and needing someone to wipe my ass after I poop because I do not have enough functionality to do it on my own. A struggle? You might say that.
A little over 2 years ago while riding my Harley just outside of Atlanta, everything I knew was brought to a sudden and violent end. I have absolutely no recollection of the event itself. What knowledge I gained was from the police and ER doctors. Car crossed double yellow. No skid marks meaning we hit head-on at full speed. Bike embedded in car. I flew 30-40 feet resulting in multiple open compound fractures. Lots of blood. As for the motorcycle, there wasn’t a straight piece of metal left on it. A $20K motorcycle I spent $40K to make my own wasn’t worth shit anymore. Not a single part was salvageable.
The life I had was over… yet again. I lost the only materialistic possession I have ever cared about, a job I never thought possible, and what little hope I had about life in general. 48 years invested in what was instantly transmogrified into nothing with only blood loss and bone fragments to show for it.
More than half a year of surgeries, bacterial bone infections, various miscellaneous setbacks, physical therapy, mental therapy, new medications… Now I’m 50 and my future looks no brighter than it did 2 years ago. To be honest, there’s not an ounce of light in it. Every day I wake up in a body that doesn’t function in the same manner as the one I came to know, operated by a mind that strains to cope with it all. Concentration is nearly impossible when every articulation I attempt produces an assortment of physical pains and inconsistent neurological consequences. One day I feel as though I could run through the house. The next day I’m dizzy and need to hang on to things before I fall down.
I’m now sensitive to light. I began to have multiple anxiety attacks daily from a wide assortment of external triggers. I’m unable to properly regulate my body temp when moving from hot to cold, and I fatigue extremely quickly, especially if exposed to outdoor heat. I am 30 pounds overweight, addicted to Xbox and streaming tv, have a terrible sleep cycle, and find myself not wanting to leave my room or the house… For anything… What’s age related? What’s actual damage? What’s trauma? It’s anyone’s guess. That’s the problem. There’s so much going on that all anyone can do is make educated stabs at it. I’m a slave to time.
Off The Rails 