Isabelle Crashes Out

This afternoon - 8/3/9 - was a big day: all six grandchildren and all three children were coming at mid-day. Mike was flying his family from NYC, and were going to pick up Alec in Madison on the way, and Laura and her 3 kids were coming about noon. Izzie had taken the week off work to enjoy her family. She shopped early for food, and decided to take a bike ride before Laura arrived, for there'd be little chance to ride for the rest of the week.

This spring she bought a lovely new solo road bike - we'd been riding tandem for several years, and I'd encouraged her to get her own bike. It felt pretty awkward at first, she said, but she enjoyed riding it. We have created several 10-12 mile loops near home, scenic 40-minute rides that wind through the hills or cross the prairie east and south of town.

She started shortly after eleven, so she would be home when Laura and her kids arrived. She rode south on 9th street to the edge of town, then turned east on Tanglewood Drive, what we call the golf club road because it goes past a scenic golf course. It then climbs into the woods for a short bit, and twists and turns over roller-coastery hills for a couple of miles to County J. We usually stop about halfway to rehydrate, at the top of one of the hills.

She crested that hill after a long climb, and sped down. At the bottom is a sharp left-hand corner, turning eastward up another hill. She was going too fast, hit gravel, and tumbled into the deep ditch.

Her breath was knocked out, she had terrible pain in her left chest when she breathed or moved her left arm, her legs were tangled in the handlebars and the bike. She struggled to get her breath back, then cried out in pain, and laid back in the grass. She laid perhaps ten minutes in the hot sun, hurting too much to help herself get out from under the bike, waiting for the pain to decrease so that she could get up again. She wiggled her arms and legs, and decided they weren't hurt.

Her cell phone rang. She was able to get it out of her jersey. It was Mike, who'd landed in Madison to pick up Alec. "Mom, I can't get ahold of Alec. We're here in Madison, and I've left messages on his cell phone. Could you look up his work number so I can try him there?"

"No, I can't. I feel so dumb. I crashed my bike and I'm laying in the ditch and I can't get up."

"Mom, I think you're talking to the wrong person. You should call dad."

I was forty minutes behind, as usual. I'd just finished with my next-to-last patient and had sat in my office chair to look at a phone message. It was 12:08. My cell phone rang. It was Izzie.

"Dan, are you with a patient?"

"No, just between." She sounded strained. "How can I help you?"

"I crashed my bike, and I can't get up. Can you go home and get the pickup truck?"

"Um, sure. Where are you?"

"I'm on the golf club road just past where we stop to drink. I'm pretty far in."

I said to the assistants at the nursing station, "I've got a little emergency with Isabelle. I'll be back in 20 minutes. Tell the next patient I'll be back as soon as I can."

I more or less slid down the balustrade, realizing as I went that there was no point in getting the pickup, it would just waste time and the bike would fit just fine in the trunk, and Izzie would be a lot more comfortable in the car if she were hurt, as she must be.

Meanwhile, back at the ditch, Isabelle didn't want Laura to be inconvenienced in case she got to our house at noon and there was no Mother. She called her. "Laura, where are you?"

"I'm just leaving home."

"Oh, good. I did something stupid and I crashed my bike. I'm in the ditch and I can't get up. I'm waiting for your dad to come and get me."

Poor Laura. She had worked late, and wished she could be there to help.

As I left the clinic, I calculated what would be the quickest way to the crash site, and headed down County J, instead of through town. I did not stay under the speed limit, nor did I come to a full and complete stop at the intersections. I did a little tailgating of a guy who stayed ahead of me onto the golf club road, and he saluted me rudely as he turned into his driveway.

I drove the entire length of the road, carefully looking at the ditches. No Isabelle. I tried to telephone. No answer. Back in town, I wondered if I'd misunderstood what she'd said, or if she'd mis-stated the road. This was a little worrisome. I telephoned again; this time she answered. I asked again were she was. She seemed to use 'north' and 'east' backwards, but it was at least clear she was about where I'd thought. I did a u-turn and drove back, promising to call again when I got close. When I did, I gave a running description of where I was, but she simply sounded confused about my whereabouts. No Isabelle could be seen.

I passed our watering hill, and descended. I came to the left-hand curve, still talking to her, and saw, down in the grass past the curve, a tiny glint of red. "I see you!" I said. The red turned. I could just see her eyes and nose plus the helmet through the grass. No wonder I missed her the first time!

Now we know why we always take a cell phone on our bike rides.

I parked, opened the trunk, and went into the ditch where she was sprawled under the bike. "I thought you were coming the other way," she said. "Where do you hurt?" I asked.

Her legs and arms looked OK, she was awake. It was now about 12:30. I put the bike in the trunk, and helped her up, using her right arm. She stood very gingerly, and climbed slowly out of the ditch to the car.

Laura called. "Hi Dad, did you get mom?" I said, "I'm trying to get her in the car. Just go to the house. You know how to get in. I'm too busy to talk". She said "OK" and hung up, as that was the quickest way to help mom. She had waited 20 minutes to call you thinking that would be enough time. It would have been if Izzie hadn't been out of sight in the ditch. Laura was calling to make sure someone had made it to mom, and if so, how seriously she was hurt (She's no wimp- Laura knew by her tears something was very wrong).

At the car, I opened the door and she sat gingerly on the seat. I lifted her legs over the sill. She relaxed slightly. "Shall I fasten your seat belt?"

She chuckled. "I guess you'd better."

I drove carefully away. "Let's just go home," she said.

"No."

We drove for a couple of miles. She said, "I guess it's OK to go there."

"Fine."

We drove another mile. She spoke again. "I hope Marek isn't in the ER."

"If he is, I can take handle it."

I pulled into the ambulance garage, ignoring the 'AMBULANCES ONLY' sign, and walked into the ER. Joe was on call. This is good. I got a wheelchair, and we put her in it. I left Izzie with the ER nurse, drove the car straight home to hang her bike up. Then I noticed the right handlebar was terribly bent. I drove straight to the bike shop, and left the bike to be fixed. Then I hurried back to the clinic to see my last morning patient, less than 15 mph over the limit. A city-owned tan SUV suddenly pulled out in front of me. It was hit him or pass him across the double line. I passed him. It was an unmarked police car. I did not have my seat belt fastened, I was going 38 a 25, I had just passed him illegally. I slowed to 30, waited. He had failed to yield the right of way, so I though I might negotiate mutual forgiveness if he stopped me.

He blipped his siren. But no lights were flashing. I went exactly 30 and waited. Nothing. Two blocks before the hospital, I turned left to take the shortcut to the back corner of the lot, He didn't follow. A forgiving man.

I went to see my last morning patient, a 92 year old man with an early boil on his left south pole. It was 12:58. I took him to the on-call surgeon, and went back to the ER.

The first afternoon patient was roomed already. I looked at the schedule with my nurse, and saw that none of the afternoon patients was sick. We decided to cancel them. I saw the one patient and wandered down to the ER. Five broken ribs, left #3 through #7. Some pain was involved. I was sent for prescriptions and dictated my charts. I called Laura and assigned her the duty of meeting Mike and Alec. Then I went back to ER to collect Izzie and take her to meet the North Carolina grandchildren at the airport.

Flightaware.com was saying that Mike and his passengers would be arriving at the airport at 3:07. It was 2:59. Izzie was done, in her opinion, with the ER. The ER nurse was understanding, but did insist on she sign two pieces of paper, and no, we would not be removing the IV at home.

Mike had just pulled up to the gas pumps when we got there. Laura and her kids had been there to meet him. Kim and Laura were talking, their kids swarming around like little bees. The kids were commanded not to hug Gramma, and Izzie sat quietly in the car with the door closed, safe from hug-aggressive grand-chickens. Everyone seemed as happy as possible under the circumstances.

Laura and Kim took care of hospitality, my nurse canceled the rest of my patients, and we all tried to take care of The Lady Isabelle, who is now propped in bed, enduring bravely the exquisite pain, enjoying her grandchildren in a somewhat different way than she'd planned. The can cuddle but not hug...

I could have been worse. God is good.