One you walk away from

One month ago today, I came off the Rooster. Amazing, how much time has passed.

Thankfully, the news from my most recent doctor's visit is positive. The bones in my wrist are healing well, and have stayed in the geometry and locations achieved in surgery. This is great relief. Although I'm not out of the woods completely, as my nurse put it, I can "see the edge of the woods." I'll take that. The latest x-rays tell the tale, and reveal how much metal I'm carrying these days.



In another four weeks, if things continue on their current trajectory, I should be able to use my wrist without any sling or brace or cast. I'm looking forward to being able to doing all kinds of prosaic things that I've taken for granted in my many years of two handedness. Typing with ten fingers. Folding clothes. Doing dishes. Holding hands with my lover. And eventually, riding again.

I'm doing physical therapy in earnest now -- although nothing weight-bearing, as that could instantly set me back at this stage in my recovery. Instead, I'm working on flexibility, trying to regain full function in my fingers and optimal post-accident function in my wrist. It remains to be seen what range of motion I'll regain, but happily I'm at a point in my recovery where big strides can be -- and are being -- made.

Emotionally, the journey has been more complex. As Julie can tell you, I've been on quite a roller coaster. Well, a coaster with two topographies: smooth sailing and sudden, dramatic dips. It's been so strange to experience the sudden bursts of tears, upswells of relief, and a thousand moments of reliving the accident -- or at least the fragments available to me -- puzzling after the missing pieces. Tonight, over dinner, Julie and I celebrated life.

The bike faired worse. After more inspection of it and introspection about my own needs, I gave the okay on Thursday to cash it out. The Iron Rooster is totaled. Although the exact cause of the crash may never be known, it almost certainly involved the tail assembly making contact with the back tire. How and why remain mysterious. The mechanics at Motoprimo -- folks who were incredibly patient with my ten thousand questions and efforts to find a satisfactory explanation -- simply asked "was someone following too closely, because it looks like you were hit from behind?" The gashes on the rear tire and bent metal below the license plate suggest something dramatic happened to the back-end, but I'll probably never know what.

Farewell little Rooster, and rest in peace.



Iron Rooster
May 25, 2007 - May 16, 2008
7,495 miles - 15,143 miles