Police Thinking

So I gt hit by a car on Thursday (9/13).  I was riding my bike in the bike lane on Christie street headed towards the Manhattan bridge.  A big black BMW SUV pulled out of standstill traffic and into the bike lane, thinking he'd get ahead while cutting me off.  When he got pinched and couldn't go any further I went around him and pointed to the bike lane and said “so where do we go?” “You're in the bike lane!?” He responded with with an abrasive Fuck You styled aggression filled response you'd only expect stereotyped from Jersey Shore.  I kinda kept moving slowly while responding in a kinder version biking legalese that didn't resemble backing down but wasn't aggressive like his but more matter of fact (those who know me can imagine..;).  As the lane opened a bit I started to go through, only to hear the roar of an engine in my left ear and all of a sudden I got hit on my left side and handle bars from behind (I think).  The wheel turned maybe, I went straight over the bars, the bike I think landed on or my hit back area while the car sped off.  It stopped briefly at the light ahead (as I tried to write down the license plate number), and then turned and was gone.  I lay on my stomach assessing my bits while others checked on me and tried to help me up.  I was amazed, and really just wanted this guy to not get away with it.  I called the 911 and some passers by in a car gave me a little first aid kit.

I refused an ambulance because I felt ok, I had a couple scrapes and bruises, but I'd had worse in football and life.  Of course, by the time the cops got there it was one hour and twenty minutes later and three calls to 911.  By this point my back and hip were starting to stiffen up.  But still I didn't think it was anything to get concerned about.  Really I just wanted to make sure this guy didn't get away with it.

The cop eventually pulls up and firstly wants to know if I need an ambulance.   I'm wishy-washy.  I don't know if I still have medicaid.  I think I do, but never got that confirmed as I lost my address before I got paperwork confirming it.  So I am reticent to get an ambulance as with no insurance and no money I'm screwed.  I can't afford that bill.  So I say no.  If money was no option, yeah, I'd have gotten checked out. But it is.  He pushes, "it's a simple yes or no answer." "yes or no?", as if someone just hit by a car thinks so clearly?  Kind of like, officer, are you an asshole?  Yes or no?  Come on, its a simple yes or no answer.  No you obviously are not. You have friends and family, people you love, things you do that show it.   No you are not an asshole.  So don't act like one right now to me. This was the way the conversation would go.  He then asked for my ID.  Which I had forgotten that day of all days.   He then proceeded to lecture me about not having an ID on me.  That I could be making up names and my life, and this incident.   That I could get a summons for not having a valid ID on me.   What?!?!  um, right....  Anyway, I questioned it subtly in an attempt to just get past it and move on.  Kind of an I don't need a drivers license to ride a bike, I don't have it what info do you need.  Needless to say he just continued on in his police speak aggressive tone.  The authoritative, shut the fuck up speech that they always give you when you ask a question or don't immediately jump as high as the ask you to.  It's like there's cop school where they send them to go learn how to verbally bludgeon people into submissiveness.  It's so sad.  I finally got to the point where I just said to him, “officer I just got hit by a car, it would really be nice if you could show a little compassion”.   He responded defensively and with vigor about how his job was to weed out people faking these claims.   That he had to be certain that I was telling the truth and not making things up.  Claiming it was his job to push me and to make me feel awkward to the point that if I was making my story up that I would waver and give up the attempt.  Basically, that I could just have a vendetta against someone and be filing a false police complaint.   Yeah well, if it didn't take an hour and twenty minutes for you to get there there would have still be witnesses....

Anyway, it was absurd.   To say that this was what he was supposed to do.  How he was trained to push people and to make sure they were in the right place.  As if getting hit by a car is an everyday occurrence and doesn't require any empathy.  Would you treat your grandmother like that?  Your mom?  Anyone you weren't assuming was a criminal?

This to me is what the problem is, and I hear it in the words of every police and law enforcement officer I speak to.  You are a criminal if you come in contact with me, you are a criminal in general until I eliminate that from my detectiving.  ----Pause---- I am writing this in the hospital and they just put a neck brace on me. It's tough to write in a neck brace ----Unpause----  So yeah, police officers always are looking for criminals.  If that is your soul goal, then how you treat people initially is going to come across as such.  It is tragic really.  After he and I got all done playing paperwork games and had developed a more friendly repore, I mentioned to him again that just as a thought that maybe he should work towards finding a better balance between doing his job and showing compassion in this type of situation.  We talked for another 15 minutes and I would consider him a friend at this point.  Yes, I consider everyone a friend, but you know what I mean.  I mean that is the way it always works with me! ;)  But still though, I think I got the message across to him.  He told me where he always is working there and writes tickets all the time for the bike lane.  But as it is, my point in writing this is to say that I think its horrible how cops speak to people.  Aggressive, authoritarian, and as if their authority is unquestionable and inherently legitimate no mater how just or lawful what they are saying.  They do not speak with respect or from a place of dignity for others.  Power over others that is all to often abused - as I felt it was with me after I was run down by a car. Sadly.

Ah yes...

Can I get back in the saddle??  So it's been an eternity since my malaria encrusted mind saw light enough to turn into electronic words.  Where to begin...

So I got off the plane on Tuesday the 23rd of November and was vomiting not much after walking in the door in New York (Could I be allergic to America!?! lol.).  A couple days later, more of the similar but of the less pleasant variety.  Come Friday I was in the hospital, but was sent home after a couple of bags of IV and an apparently botched malaria test.  Sunday I awoke on what felt like death's door with a decent fever, horrible sickness, and an ambulance ride back to the hospital.  By mid afternoon I was in the Critical Care Unit (CCU) and signing papers for possible blood transfusions.  They hadn't yet figured out if it was malaria, lasah fever, or something else.  Things from there for me though are pretty fuzzy.  They started pumping enough antibiotics and meds into me to look like Chris' cow.

They also came across a positive malaria test and some other mysteries at some point.  Of course then come the medications - which I ceremoniously threw back up after 45 minutes.  The next night was even worse.  They gave me the pill at 8:45 in the evening and I was determined to keep it down no matter what.  I fought with ever ounce of strength I had.  Every meditative thing I'd ever learned, breathing, energy movement, acupressure, whatever.  But the pain...  I was determined to make it 45 mins.  I wanted to throw it up for every single one of those 45 minutes, but I concentrated and pushed past it the best I could, trying to get to an hour and be certain.  The nausea started moving from my stomach into my digestive system though and turning into cramps and pain.  I think then and there is the first time I ever blacked out.  I was in agony, concentrating on my breathing, just trying to handle it - then all of a sudden it was later, where was I?.  Not sure what happened.  But regardless, I had started seeing things.  Not real things, but they were way to vivid and multidimensional to be dreams.  Rumor has it they were hallucinations, and I kept hearing this frog behind me in my right ear...  Funny though, no one else seemed to hear it.  Not sure why, what isn't normal about having frogs in hospital rooms...  What a horrible night.

To top it all off, in critical care each nurse has two patients and no one else can sign off on anything/has responsibility.  No nurse tech or helper.  The women next door had just come in and had to go to emergency surgery, her/my nurse left with her.  There was no one to help me.  I ended up naked, writhing in pain, and cursing belligerently about ancient Chinese medicine and listening to that damn frog sing his/her tune!!  Finally, I called my mother.  It was 11pm and I'd lost it!!  Lol!!  Miraculously, by 11:30 my mother (and maybe brother) and four nurses were in there helping me.  Funny how that works, a naked man writhing in pain and talking of a strange Kermit type comrade doesn't bring help, but a mother sure can!!   

I expected much the same the next night.  But I had gotten them to drop the antibiotics that day in hope of not having a reaction.  Wonderfully so, it worked.  I took the malaria meds and slowly drifted off to sleep an hour later.

I got moved out of critical care a day or two later and then was home a bit after that.  It was quite an experience.  Since then I've been dealing with the after affects.  For the next month I had a tremendous amount of weekness and dizziness.  Pretty much debilitated for all intents and purposes.  Sequestered to my house, bed, and couch, using the walls for balance and movies to keep time. 

I started getting better though, enough to be motivated to look for work.  Non-profit jobs all over the country.  I need to get something meaningful to do, put some cash in my pocket, and allow me to try to move forward with the projects found on this trip.  I have a lot of thoughts on things and some options to hep get things started here in the US.  The problem obviously is that my health has not put me in a position to function at full mental and physical capacity - or even at half capacity much of the time.  But I am getting there. 

I got to a point where I was out hiking: elevation, millage, even some trotting and walk/run trail trips.  Things were looking up, until I got some other kind of sickness.  This seems to have put other things over the edge, or have been the edge itself.  I had been getting follow up doctor visits and blood work, and as it turned out, things were going in the wrong direction.  The tests were showing problems with my liver, spleen, and kidneys.  Each visit things were worse.  So off to the specialists I went.  And that gets me right up to today. 

All this while I've been slowly getting an increasing amount of abdominal pain.  Sharp, bend you over, type stuff at times of late, coupled with a light hazzy film covering all physical and cognitive functioning.  I've still got that of course, and apparently will for quite some time.  But my blood work has turned around and is going in the "right" direction.  So theoretically - while there was a concern for things like liver disease - I really am just "hurt", not "injured".  Which in American football terms means: if your hurt, you can play; if your injured, you can't.  So it seems I can't make myself worse.  The pain is there, and the organs are still not functioning properly, but the body is cleaning itself out and I'm apparently headed in the right direction.  That of course is all I can ask.  They said it may take several more months to get back to full strength, but rest assured I will, and I will come back much stronger than ever before. 

I would do it all over again.  Every bit of it.

Hospital

So obviously its been a long time since my last post.  I stepped off the plane and pretty much disappeared it would seem.  I wish I was just catching my breath.  I unfortunately got sick that night that I came home, and though it leveled off a bit over the few days that followed, by Friday I was in the hospital and in a pretty solid amount of pain.  I was incredibly dehydrated after vomiting and diarrhea that covered several days.  A couple IV bags of fluid though and they sent me home.  I felt horrible, but malaria had come back negative.  So with just 'flu-like' symptoms, no big deal right?  Well by Sunday morning I was in an ambulance, and by Sunday night I was in the Critical Care Unit at the hospital.  Honestly, I don't really remember much of Sunday.  It's all pretty hazy.  They started me on antibiotics for a possible intestinal infection and then a late malaria test by the special blood doctor came back positive.  Of course I'm allergic to most chemicals, antibiotics, and medicines.  Bottom line is that the next couple days were horrible.  Lots of pain, high fevers, delirium, hallucinations, I even heard a frog that no one else seemed to hear!!  Anyway, we talked them into cutting off some of the antibiotics and other craziness they were pouring into me and things started to clear up.

There were some other serious issues though.  I was dangerously close to needing a blood transfusion as my blood platelet count was extremely low.  But started to be able to keep food down and the blood count started to come up.  The malaria medicine - despite the violent reactions I had to them - was working, the parasites in my blood cleared out.  The hospital kept me going, kept me alive really.

So home I came.  I've been here for a couple days now.  I couldn't really walk or stand up for a few days there.  Very dizzy and week, but I'm fnctional now.  All told, I lost 15 pounds and a lot of strength.  It's going to be a long road back.  Amazing that in two weeks you can lose so much.  My body seems to have been cut in half.  Incredible.  But the most important thing to take from it all came in a frank conversation with the infectious disease doctor.  Basically, giving my sensitivities/allergies and general health concerns, with the issues I had, the probable intestinal infection and malaria, if I had not gotten out of Sierra Leone when I did I probably would not have survived this.  Pretty powerful thing to hear.  I was incredibly close to needing blood, and with all the other fluids and medicine I needed and was given, I would not have been able to get it in Sierra Leone.  Tough to swallow.  Guess I'm not Superman...  :-/