You can never expect what life brings you—especially when it comes fast.

This past Monday, I made plans to meet a couple of friends and go biking on the Kent Island, MD trail. We ride least once a year and this year; the weather was gorgeous for early June. I booked a room in a local hotel, and on the morning of the ride drove the hour to the hotel.

I met my friends, and we set off on the trail. It was a beautiful day for a bike ride. Despite the noise of nearby traffic, the trail itself was wooded and the smell of honeysuckle filled the air. We enjoyed the ride out on the first leg of the trail, six plus miles. We then decided it was close enough to noon to get some lunch, so we turned back for a lunch break.

The trail itself is paved and goes through the woods on the island, but crosses several highways and parking lots in a school, and occasionally twists and turns. It’s a comfortable trail for walkers and bikers. I’ve ridden the trail many times and always enjoy it.

There are a couple of spots on the trail where it either forms a 90 degree S curve or narrows near a highway crossing.

As we were heading toward lunch, we approached a crossing. The highway was empty, and we moved to cross. With my friends in the lead, I’d pulled back to allow a park ranger on a golf cart pass by. When I approached the crossing, for whatever reason, I was distracted and when I looked up, I was headed toward a metal pole with a utility box and a metal pole in the center of the trail used to keep cars off the path.

I remember thinking, “Oh, I need to avoid the box and pole.”

Time did not slow down, and my life, such as it is, didn’t flash through my mind. If anything, time sped up, or I would have been able to react.

The next thing I remember, I’m lying and staring up at the roof of an ambulance with two EMTs working on me.

Surprisingly, I took the unexpected change in scenery well. Thankfully, I didn’t even ask, “Where am I? What am I doing here? What happened?”, as people do in movies and books. I was feeling fuzzy, but I didn’t feel any pain or issues.

On the way to the ER, the ambulance got rerouted to the UMMS in Baltimore/Washington. I got admitted quickly and the first thing they did was take a CT scan of my head and X-rays of my left arm and leg. I had sustained most of my injuries on that side. I was put on an IV, and then on meds to lower my blood pressure—I don’t remember which. A short time later, a doctor came and told me I had an intracranial hemorrhage—blood on the brain. Again, I took this all in stride.

I was admitted into the intensive care unit and was wheeled into a private room—I don’t know why. Anyway, they hooked me up to several “Machines that go, ‘Ping.’” (If you get the reference, you’re a Monty Python fan.) They took several blood samples, but left me alone apart from checking on me every so often.

Now, I’m no stranger to hospitals or ERs, what with various kidney stones, and a heart attack when I was in my thirties. But it’s still an unsettling experience. I lay there and took stock. I felt OK. Nothing was broken. I seemed to think clearly and rationally—but I knew that could just be my mind playing tricks on me. I’d been told I’d hit my head, hence the hemorrhage.

Then it hit me. I was very lucky and, apparently, escaped with only minor scrapes and bruises. The worst thing I could see, at least, were some scrapes on my knees and a fairly large scrape/gash on the back of my left hand. Of course, I was concerned about the hemorrhage, especially if it didn’t subside. That could increase the pressure in my brain and potentially be fatal. (I majored in BioMedSci in college.) I was concerned, but not worried, but autonomic stress was at an all-time high.

Anyway, I was told they wanted to keep me for observation in the ICU and take periodic CTs to check on the progress of the bleeding. I finally remembered about the hotel I’d booked and called to adjust the room by a day—yes, I know I was being overly optimistic.

The first night was spent trying to get to sleep while the staff came in every two hours to run neurological checks for signs of stroke or decline in cognition. I dozed in the early morning.

The next day was the same—the same exam every two hours. Around lunch, the PT group showed up and evaluated me. They were surprised I was in such good condition and shape for my age. I guess that’s good. Anyway, they cleared me with no need for PT since nothing was broken and, apart from stiffness and aches, no actual pain.

Next up was the speech therapist, whose job it is to determine the extent of brain injuries that impact cognition. This was a “fun”—not exercise. The problem I have with this sort of test is it relies on short-term memory. And with my aphantasia, my mind doesn’t work the way most other peoples’. You know the test Trump crowed about passing? The one with five words? Well, I struggled with that one. Now, I know (for a fact), that my IQ is higher than his—not that I’m bragging or that I take any stock in IQ tests—my point is, any normal person wouldn’t have an issue. Memorizing five random words relies on one or a combination of two things: repetition, and or mnemonics and visual imaging. I don’t have the latter. The former requires time. The test doesn’t give you time. The point of the test is to distract you from repeating things to yourself and to rely on your “imaging systems”. Luckily, I could explain my aphantasia to the therapist—she’d never heard of it, but understood. I passed.

So, I was cleared as far as the PT and speech team were concerned. The only thing that was left was the 24 hour CT scan.

Luckily, the doctor came in and informed that the bleeding had subsided and the blood had disappeared—been absorbed. I was cleared to go home.

My friends picked me up and took me back to my car. Along the way, I learned that the person behind me had seen me hit the utility box and I was thrown off the bike. There were also marks left where my handlebar struck. My bike helmet was intact and unmarked. So, I deduce, I hit the box with the handlebar, and that threw me off the bike into the gully by the trail. I landed on my left side, crumpling. My entire rib cage is sore, as if it’s been compressed. My left shoulder feels like the rotator cuff has been strained. I have minor bruises elsewhere. The only other injury of the note is a bruise on my cheek and a sore jaw. I’m thinking that when I hit the ground, my cheek hit first (hence nothing on the helmet), and the impact was hard enough or I was bounced around enough that my brain hit my cranium. Luckily, I’m told the gully was full of weeds and grass, so I didn’t hit any rocks.

I was also told that many people stopped on the highway to help and the ranger turned back to help as well. I’m grateful to all the passersby who got involved. I don’t know who they are and never will, but there are good people in the world.

I’m lucky. I got off easy. The incident could have ended much worse. I’m home again, and some aches and stiffness have eased, but new ones have cropped up. I’ll have bruises on the left side of my body for a while and my shoulder is going to take a while to heal. I plan on not doing anything major for at least a week. I’ve been told I can return to normal activities as long as I don’t injure my head again.

I want to thank all the people on Micro and Mastodon who have reached out to wish me well and showed concern.

Finally, I got lucky and ended up in a top-notch facility with a superb staff. I’ve ordered some pizzas for them, to show them I appreciate them.