Heading down Pine I was coming to Shoreline, the block being the distance of the Convention Center. The only car at the intersection was turning left onto Shoreline, and as that was the basic direction I was going to go, as always, I got over into the left-turn lane. I know these lights, and I've done this maneuver before. The left-turn light flashes first, and the turners get to turn and the bikers like me usually scoot off out of the way and make a wide arc to the left and head up onto a wide sidewalk and slowly head over to the bike path.
That was the plan, as I've done it dozens of times before. Still headed over to get a few close up shots of that huge class of cruise ships, the Oasis Class. Only this time when I got out into the intersection, the chain popped off the sprockets.
This has happened before, and had caused more irritation than injury. It's just a shitty bicycle. DON'T BUY A MICARGI!
The chain popping off phenomenon has also altered the way I ride this bike, as in I don't pump hard like I used to with my cruiser, Dino.
Even so, at this point I was traveling with some speed. The second the chain came off, my legs lost all connection with the bike. My groin hit the seat as my hand fought to hold on to the bars. The bike careened wildly as drivers gawked and gasped. My left leg came down instinctually and tried to add some stability. It caved painfully but more or less righted the ship.
I wasn't sure how badly it was injured, or even that. At first, as I coasted to the side, I thought I might have just wrenched it. As my left foot hit the ground again it became clear that it was a little worse off. I got to a grassy area next to a sidewalk on the right side of a restaurant complex in front of which I originally was turning left. I tried to ignore the look; the angle that my calf was extending from my knee wasn't natural. As I sat on the grass, sweating and in a blinding type of pain, I pushed my leg back to a normal look. Here's a picture:
I contemplated what to do, how could I make it home, would I be sitting here all day, will this pain just sorta go away, I remembered that my phone was on it's charger at home, so I was mostly stuck with figuring out how to get somewhere without an un-affordable ambulance ride. After maybe ten or fifteen minutes, I figured I could get my bike going again, and maybe use it to get to the Urgent Care on the way to the house, or maybe all the way to the house.
Yeah...yeah, so that was the plan.
Sitting on the grass I pulled the bike close by, propped it up and forced the chain on. Then I somehow pulled myself up to a standing position, used my left hip to swing my damaged leg over the center bar, and pushed myself along with my right foot, sometimes like a skateboard and sometimes pedaling a half-circle.
Past halfway to the Urgent Care (which was pretty much halfway to my apartment) I needed to take a break. I paused on my bike, gritting my teeth through the pain, and then I lost my balance. I came down on my left leg and crashed on the sidewalk.
A holler erupted involuntary from inside. A rolly-poly looking guy reluctantly came over and asked if I was okay. I pulled the bike off and grunted, and a young brunette also came over. I said I was heading to the Urgent Care, not more than two blocks away and that I'd lost my balance. I went on to explain the situation, and the girl offered to run down and check the Urgent Care for a wheel chair, and the guy was going to help me get to one of the bus benches. Then he left. I could see the girl returning without the chair, apology written on her face for a pair of blocks.
They didn't have a wheel chair; I'd figured as much. I got back on my bike, thanked her, and as she went on her merry way, the corpulent guy returned and offered to help me walk on over to the clinic.
At the clinic I told them my story, that I didn't have insurance, and that I was in barely tolerable pain. The doctor gave me a few tests: pushing and pulling at different ways on my leg. One way wasn't too bad, one way had me yelling that "YES That way causes PAIN!"
They said that if they were to do some initial tests, like X-rays and then possibly MRIs, I wouldn't be able to be eligible for the cheap-to-free services available to low-income and uninsured patients. They said of my choices, if I wanted to utilize the uninsured hospital, I should either take a cab to that hospital or call for a ride to that hospital. I called Corrie's cell-phone from their phone, but it wasn't turned on, as is sometimes the case at work. Since my phone was still on the charger, I decided to buy crutches and hobble the rest of the way home.
That half-mile trek took maybe twenty minutes. I took many breaks.
When I got home I hopped up the stairs one at a time, and eventually collapsed into bed, soaking my shirts through with sweat (I'd dressed up for the Friday at the coffee shop--was wearing a wife-beater and a button up short sleeve shirt). That's where the phone charger was, and my phone, fully charged, was sitting.
I called Corrie, and in the clearest, calmest voice I could muster, I told her that I was pretty sure I needed a ride to the Harbor UCLA in Torrance, that uninsured hospital.
Then I went basically dozed off, and drifted in and out of twilight until Corrie got home.
That my femur could be broken was still not even a possibility in my brain. Not even an inkling.
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