C. called me today mid-morning at work:
“I’ve had a bad fall from my bike.”
“Oh, it’s okay, just scraped” — huge gasp — “just wanted you to know. I’m going to urgent care.”
“Uh, would it help if I came home, maybe drove you over?”
“Sure.” Another wince/gasp sound. “Just get here soon.”
Of course I rode my bike to work this morning, so I passed on the word and then changed back into bike clothes and rode home…the fastest I’ve ever made that trip. But all the way going, be careful, be careful, be careful — doesn’t help either of us if I bail too!
And wow, was he scraped. Slid in a alley, on gravel, and slid all the way from the gravel out onto the asphalt. His knee and palm were just torn up. Then he had to walk home, uphill no less, with a handkerchief wrapped around his palm and blood dripping down his shin.
So I drove, and we went to urgent care, and I stayed with him for hand-holding and company. He’s done the same for me a shocking number of times…I’m usually the one falling, missing a step, dropping a paper-cutter on my toe, etc., etc. I don’t think he’s ever had an accident anywhere near like this in the whole 10+ years we’ve been together. A couple of times his back’s gone out, and when he gets a bad cold there’s generally a 50-50 chance of it turning into bronchitis, but no scrapes or tumbles.
I saw the nurse pick chunks of gravel out of his knee…and then scrub it with a toothbrush. Honestly, I couldn’t watch when she was cleaning the palm. (The bottom, near the thumb…on his dominant hand.) They bandaged him up and sent him home: nothing broken, no stitches needed.
Spent the rest of the day making sure he had what he needed to be as comfortable as possible, made a run to the grocery store, stocked up on videos from the library. He’s gone to bed now, and maybe will get some sleep soon. The pain, I gather, is quite intense, so I’m hoping that tylenol with codeine will be of some help.
Me, I’m exhausted. I’m going to go to bed early and get some extra Zs myself, so I have a hope of being coherent at work tomorrow.
(And yes, per the title: he was not wearing his cycling gloves. He’s said seventy gajillion times today that he should have been wearing his gloves, if he’d only been wearing his gloves, etc., etc. Let this be a lesson to all of you.)