Three years ago my life changed. No, it wasn’t the day I realized I was tired of being fat and tired of being the brunt of my friend’s jokes, that was about three years previous to the day in question. This was the day I got hit by a car while riding my motorcycle, and the day that changed my life forever.
It was July 31, 2008 and I had just recently finished rebuilding my 1981 Honda CB 750K. I got the engine rebuilt, replaced all of the old chrome, side panels, rebuilt the gas tank and got a new custom paint job on it. In fact, it was only my second ride on Hailey (that was my bike’s name) after waiting all summer to get her on the road.
It was a beautiful day, about 30 Celsius, and I was on my way home from work early to go golfing. I was 3km from my apartment when I was going through an intersection and a woman, coming from the opposite direction, turned left in front of me and cut me off. She hadn’t seen me going through the intersection (yes, it was a green light and I had the right of way) and I ended up T-boning the front fender of the car.
HRM Police Report
GO #08-112001 – Motorcycle/Motor Vehicle Accident – At 12:44 p.m. police responded to the intersection of Oxford and Coburg Road, Halifax, in relation to a vehicle/motorcycle accident. The 24-year-old female driver of a car turned left from Oxford Street onto Coburg Street colliding with a motorcyclist who was traveling on Oxford Street. The 27-year-old male driver of the motorcycle was transported to the hospital, where he was treated and released. The driver of the vehicle was charged with ‘Failing to Yield to Traffic When Making a Lefthand Turn.’
I was immediately launched off of my bike and sent flying over the car. The driver didn’t have the reflexes to stop immediately (I’m not too sure many of us would be able to) and therefore she kept driving and hit me out of the air with her car. I hit the car with the left side of my body, mainly on my left hip, and I changed directions in mid-air and was sent flying to the right, through the intersection. I ended up going about 25 feet through the air, landing on my wrists and right hip on the pavement (after trying to land on my feet and that not working) and came within 6 inches of hitting a telephone pole.
I could go in to more detail about the pain and the trip to the hospital and about all of the curse words that were invented (and the super hot nurses I had), but I’m sure you can use your imagination. I didn’t break any bones and I didn’t have any road rash, it all ended up being severe trauma to the soft tissue in my body. I was taken to hospital by ambulance and released about 4 hours later after being treated.
As I was being wheeled out of the hospital, the first officer that was on scene had hung around to see how I was doing, which I found out was mainly because he couldn’t believe I was alive. He told me that when he arrived on the scene and first saw my bike, he immediately assumed I was dead and couldn’t believe it when he came over and saw me kicking and screaming. He said he’s seen many accidents in his career but with the shape poor Hailey was in, he didn’t understand how I was able to walk (hobble/be wheeled) away from the crash.
When I got in my accident, I was in the best shape of my life. I weighed 185lbs and was at about 7% body fat. I was running every morning, training in the gym 6 days a week, playing softball, beach volleyball, indoor volleyball, hockey and I felt amazing. Life was good. After the accident and for about six months, I wasn’t able to do much of anything and this affected my whole life and my lifestyle. I really got down in the dumps and the whole thing started to affect me in a bad way. I started feeling sorry for myself and this lead to me eating like shit and I ended up putting on about 25lbs. During this time I wasn’t a happy person and I was in a very bad place mentally while trying to deal with everything. (Word to the wise: If you’re ever in a tramatic experience, don’t ever think about the “what ifs”… )
At the six month mark, and against doctors orders, I finally said “f*ck it” and started going to the gym again. The pain was intense, but I didn’t care. I didn’t actually want to be there, but I did it anyway. I was out of shape and self-conscience, but I sucked it up and made myself go and workout. I needed to get myself back to my positive lifestyle that I once knew and I needed to do it fast because I was on a downward spiral to a bad place.
The workouts weren’t what they use to be and there was pain there that wasn’t there before, but I kept at it. I was seeing a physiotherapist three times a week, a chiropractor four times a week and a massage therapist three times a week, but I still managed to get to the gym three times a week on top of that (and work a full time job). I had to change my workout regime completely and learn how to do modified workouts due to sever hip, back and wrist pain, but I did it and in the long run it was for the best.
It’s been three years now and it’s taken me a long time, a lot of work, a lot of patience and a lot of support to get back to a place where I feel happy about myself, but I’m here. I still do intensive massage, physio and chiro for my back, hips and wrists because I deal with a pain that will never go away, but you know what… I’m still alive and still here and able to bitch and complain about it and share my story with you. And when you look at it that way, at least I’ve got that.