Life Is One Of Those Precious Fleeting Gifts, And Everything Can Change in A Heartbeat.
[B' Spokes: This is copied here in hopes of facilitating a reunion of a cyclist and his bike.]
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Early last week, I was in the midst of doing my daily routine, and I heard an ambulance stop outside my house. I normally pay no attention to these sirens, since our fire station is located very close, and the passing of ambulances is a normal sound.
I glanced up from what I was doing and noticed two paramedics rushing through my front yard and toward my front door. I immediately opened the door to find a terribly injured middle aged man sitting at the bottom of my front porch steps. A paramedic quickly explained to me that this man was in a bicycle accident that occurred directly outside my house, and that they had received a 911 call for help. I was shocked, horrified and definitely taken back by the course of events that was unfolding in front of me. The paramedics were quickly bandaging, taping and asking the man a million and one questions.
I asked the man if I could call someone for him or do anything to help, and his only request to me was that I keep his bicycle safe so he might retrieve it at a later time. The slurring of his words and slow speech pattern clearly resonated that he was in shock. He was then quickly whisked him off in an ambulance.
I had the chance to question the paramedic as to the course of events that had happened. He told me that the biker had hit the curb and was propelled over his handlebars. He fell, straddling the street and the curb, and landed on the side of his head. Of his visible injuries, they included two broken wrists, a dislocated shoulder, and a large head contusion.
As the ambulance pulled away and I was processing everything, I then noticed the blood trail that led from the street pavement up to the rocking chair that sat on my front porch, and also two tooth fragments. I am still trying to grasp the fact that he never rang the doorbell or knocked for help, and instead chose to dial 911 himself. But I also grapple with the realization of whether I COULD have done anything differently for him had he reached out to me?
The biker has yet to show up to claim his bike. He seemed so worried about me keeping it in a safe place for him so he could pick it up later. This has left me with the overarching fear that he didn't survive his injuries. And I also wonder what I should do with the bicycle that was left behind?