curve balls

It is incredibly crazy what life can throw you. I mean, I could use a million cliches about lemonade and silver linings, but really, who wants to hear that? For the past four months or so, I've been gearing up to go on this trip. I resign from my job, give up my apartment, convince really nice friends to take my stuff, buy a ticket, etc. Everything was smooth sailing and I was ready for my open-ended year of journey and discovery. I planned, well, that should be in quotes, okay, "I planned" four months out because the next step was to go to a Latin American country and learn Spanish. However, to get from Asia to Latin America, you basically have to come back through the United States. So, I figured, I'd go travel for four months, come home for Thanksgiving, and then go again. Well, then I met Matt. He picks me up in a coffee shop, and soon we're seeing each other all of the time. Curve ball numero uno. Now leaving is a bit bittersweet, but four months isn't the end of the world. He plans to maybe come visit, there's email and skype and text messages, I think we'll be okay.
So, all was going along fine until Matt and I decided to go on a bike ride last Saturday. It was a gorgeous day and we decided just to ride around the city. We nosed our way through tourists who don't know how to ride bikes, rode down the embarcadero and admired the Bay, got some dim sum in the Richmond and were on our way home so that I could finish packing up my room. He asked me if I wanted to try his bike. He thought I'd like the feeling of riding a faster and nicer bike. I wasn't so sure, but then I figured, okay. I got on his bike and couldn't really get my shoes to click into his pedals. Finally they did and I was trying to get used to his bike when I realized that I had to stop at a stop sign. I tried to click out and I couldn't! I start freaking out, screaming, 'I can't get out, I'm stuck'. I crank on the brake because he's in front of me and I need to stop, and go flying over the handlebars. I came down on my front teeth and they cracked on the pavement. Meanwhile, my head is on the ground, but my feet are still stuck in the pedals. Matt looks back, hops off his bike and comes over to twist my feet out of the pedals. I truly start freaking out. I don't have health insurance, there's blood seeping through my pants, my lip is starting to swell. People keep stopping in their cars to ask if they can help. We weren't sure what to do. Go to the hospital? Go home? We finally start walking over to UCSF, but it is actually quite a bit farther when your body hurts and you've just endured a major trauma.

Finally, we got about half way down Lincoln when I decided that what we were doing was crazy. I said, 'let's just lock up the bikes and take a taxi home.' So we called for a taxi, but it took forever. It was freezing from the fog and I was hysterically crying. Finally, this nice woman that was out for a jog came by us. She asked if she could help. Matt's like, 'well, only if you have a car, we're trying to get back to the Mission.' She goes, 'back at my house I do,' we told her that wasn't necessary and she kept running. About five minutes later she showed back up, saying, 'I went home and got my car for you guys, I felt so bad for you.' We couldn't believe it. So she drove us all the way home, somehow she just felt like she should help us. I got home and got in the bathtub to try to wash off all the blood. Matt sat with me as blood was just running down the tub to the drain, a la psycho. Poor guy, he was so concerned but had no idea what to do. We couldn't figure out why there's so much blood. Well, to give the PG version, I cut myself on the handlebars as I went over. Finally, we decided to go to the Emergency Room because the bleeding just wouldn't stop. Joy of all joys, SF general hospital on a Saturday night.

We walk in and the waiting room is filled with poor and homeless people. The registration window person tells me to go wait in the line for the triage nurse. We wait for about 5-10 minutes, there's no movement. Finally, Matt walks over and talks to the cop and he motions to me to go sit in a chair. I go through a bit of an explanation and the triage nurse goes away and comes back with a wheeled bed. He wheels me into a room and voila, I've worked my way into the er. Apparently, blood is a big help in these matters. We spent the next six hours in the er. The doctors and nurses were all great. Matt had to sit there holding my hand and stroking my hair for the entire time so I would cry. They doped me up and gave me some stitches. At 1am we went left the er, got in the car, went and picked up the bikes, drove home and then dropped into a deep sleep.
So, after all of that, I've postponed my trip a week. The past week was a crazy one: I fought with the airline and the hospital, managed to retroactively start my dental cobra, got a root canal and had my teeth patched up, moved, cleaned up my old room, packed and organized myself for my trip. Sorry to any people who have called me, but it has been a little crazy. I'm hoping this week is quite a bit more calm and I feel prepped for this other big adventure that is supposed to be starting.
You know, there is something about trauma that kind of puts other things in perspective. Moving was so simple compared to all of this. Finding the right shoes or skirt for my trip, while more challenging than you might think, really such small potatoes. Anyway, I'm really lucky to have only minor damage and really, minor bills from this whole insanity. I don't have the sense that this was 'a sign' or 'supposed to happen' because I think that is a stupid way to look at the world. But, it was a reminder that you really never know what is coming around that next corner.