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« on: 13 November 2012, 02:55:03 pm »
My first motorbike accident was entirely my fault and happened on September the 11th;
So after tearing across country in the morning to make an appointment I'm now looking forward to a nice, relaxed ride back home on a beautiful sunny day. I've had an early fish and chips for lunch and headed off for the motorway. Just before joining the M3 at Junction 4, going uphill on what was at first a nice sweeping right hander, then straightened out a little then cut back to almost 90 degrees left, tightening as it went. Hadn't noticed how much speed I'd picked up going into the left hander and had to brake very hard which stood the bike up just as I'm exiting onto the M3. Just as an artic truck is passing. Initially it looked like I was going to go right under the middle of him, but I almost got far enough back ...almost. Everything was going in slow motion. What must have happened in seconds seemed to go on forever but with unstoppable, palpable inertia. The artic was now speeding past me on my right and we're nearing the end of the slip road, just when I get some small hope that I might miss the back end it clips the right side of me with a massive bang and I go flying. The bike is pulled out from under me and somersaults, I come down behind it in a mess on hands and knees and roll. At this point I become acutely aware that I am wearing denim trousers. I spin and roll a couple of times, the back of the helmet smacks off the ground, the small of my back loses some skin as my leather jacket rises, my legs pound into the ground. I hear the bike crash and bang ahead of me and it starts to over-rev. I come to a stop in a lot of pain and immediately look up for following traffic; one car has just come round the corner quite wide but has seen me and I can see the surprise on her face. Petrol is pouring out of the bike but I can't stand back up. I try to get to the bike to shut off the engine but can't put weight on my leg - I look down at my right knee and it's just like white hamburger with large flecks of road grit in it, some red flesh, a bit of bone - is that my kneecap sliding out? I push it back in and pull myself off the road somehow and get onto the verge and lie down. I'm starting to feel light headed so try to control my breathing...time does funny things, I see a face with a phone pressed against her ear; she tells me not to move, gives me a thumbs up and moves out of my vision. I see a pale blue sky. 2 small airplanes high in the sky. My knee is agony, my arm begins to throb, my back is sore against the ground. The woman comes back and I ask her to get my phone from my topbox and give her the key. I try to elevate my leg onto the metal rail but it's too high and I'm at an angle, half on the curb. Off duty policemen. Reassurances. An on duty policeman. I give him details. Ambulance, paramedics, checks... I get cut out of all my clothes and put on an immobilizer board which is when my ankle starts to feel sore. They give me gas for the pain which is increasing. In the ambulance the policeman wants to breathalise me but the medics want to get going - I tell him to give it here, it only takes a second. My ankle starts to get sore...we get to hospital.
They gave me morphine which helped a lot and then a few shots of local around the knee before pulling out the grit and cleaning it and cutting out bits of dead flesh. They tell me it will heal but I'll have a scar, I'm thinking "you don't say?". X-rays show a broken ankle but no bone damage to the knee thankfully.
At least I'm still here and able to learn from all the mistakes I made that day - I really did think I was going under that artic truck...
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