Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.

July 3, 2016

Today is July 3rd…my birthday!  I have now had two more birthdays than I was “supposed” to.  According to all reports, things should have stopped on August 19, 2014.  From the moment of the accident, all I heard from doctors, police officers, paramedics, lawyers, etc. was “you shouldn’t have survived this!”  It never got easier to hear. Over the past 23 months, people stopped saying it to me as I saw the same faces over and over, so their shock wore off.  However, recently, a new doctor was added to my “team” at DHMC and as I sat there, watching her review my file, reading the reports, I knew what she’d say once she finished, yet, I still could not brace myself for those words: “you should not have survived”.  **BAM! Those five words are like being socked in the stomach!**

Summer is hard for me…what used to be a beautiful, carefree time has now become emotional.  It’s a change in my work routine which I have now learned is not an easy thing for someone with a TBI.  Warmer weather brings outside cycling, which is still a challenge for me. Although the memories are always there, they seem worse this time of year…almost all-consuming.  I find myself thinking how different my life could…should be. I find myself almost having a panic attack when riding and a car pulls in front of me. I cringe every time a car drives too close to me.  I miss beautiful, sunny days of riding because although my heart says “lets ride!” my brain says “lets sleep!”

I went to the pharmacy yesterday to pick up yet another medication.  The pharmacist always asks how I’m doing, how I’m responding to the newest medications, what the next step is, etc.  His caring and thoughtfulness always warms my heart. I wish that one of these times when he asks how the newest regimen is working I could respond with “it’s GREAT!  We’ve found the one!” Instead, I give him the “sad smile” and shake my head no. When he asks what the next step is, I shrug. We nod in solidarity. Yesterday, after the “sad smiling” and the shrugging, he said to me “yet you always smile”, then he added “God bless you Jen!”  Now, I am not a religious person, but I will say, that for some reason, those words, touched me deeply.

Right after the crash someone said to me “accidents happen”.  This comment made me furious. Of course someone who’s never been hit by a car would say that!  In the right context, I believe that statement…however…after reading the police report and the drivers statement, I see just how ignorant and self-absorbed the driver was.  That this was not an accident, this was an act of being impatient. Twenty more seconds of her time, could have made all the difference; instead her haste changed my life forever.

I don’t share my thoughts or my memories with you in an attempt to gain an “awe Jen!” or a “you’re doing great!” I share them because I have to believe this happened to me for a reason.  I have to believe that I was dealt this hand for a purpose. I may be wrong and time may show me another reason why, but for now, I feel I’m still here to be the voice for cyclists. I want my family to see a rider on the road and to give them room…show them respect.  I want my friends to be riding passenger in a car and see a cyclist and tell the driver my story and explain why they should share the road. I want to make people aware that their actions have consequences, if not for themselves, then for someone.

The other night, a woman new to cycling came to our White Mt Velo road ride.  She told me she was nervous and I asked her what she was nervous about. She said “what if I get hit by a car?”  My reply to her was not so cut and dry, but in my head I thought: “you get back on your bike and you do the best you can!”It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.  I’ll cry for the person I lost on August 19, 2014.  Then I’ll dry my eyes, take a plethora of migraine medication, get plenty of sleep (because rattled brains need that), and be thankful that I’ve had two more birthday cakes than I was supposed to.