Eleanore, the Medic and I finally get to the ER...

Every ride like this has a director. They tend to be some of the nicest, hardest working people you will meet. It takes a lot of work and logistics to put on an event such as these. Meet the 2018 TdB ride director Eleanore. I had seen her picture on Facebook and spoken with her briefly on Friday to inquire how the routes were marked, but otherwise I didn’t know a soul at the TdB.

Once I was hefted off the ground, plopped on the EMS stretcher and shoved into the truck I was in agony. Seemed no one wanted to listen that I was was an EMT in my past and a really experienced X-ray tech. I knew how I wanted to be moved, but none the less I made it into the ambulance and from what my nerves were reporting my hip was broken yet still attached. Mr Medic wouldn’t start an IV on the ground or give morphine before they moved me because “it’s not clean”. I was thinking you’re an idiot because I’ve started them in far dirtier conditions than this grass, but what could I do. I was at the mercy of strangers.

Suddenly this sprite, gray haired lady appears, “Hey I’m really sorry this happened. What can I do?” (This may not be exact). Me: “it’s ok I will be alright. My bike? My Mom?” E: “I will take care of the bike. They are taking it to the visitors center”. Me: “I won’t have any way to get it and she won’t know what to do with it plus she will be at the hospital, there is no one else.” I was thinking the other only people I know and trust are in Jonesborough, about 90min east. Remember I was trying to plan all the logistics for the next few days while laying in the field. It’s the way I’m wired, I’m a fix-it person.

So Mr Medic tired of our conversation, maybe they have an on-scene time metric or maybe it costs them money. He told E she’d have to get out so off she went. I didn’t like this Medic.

Ambulance ride: all credit goes to the EMT driver for a nice smooth-ish ride to the hospital which I now know was about 7 miles away. No sudden stops or starts, smooth in turns - she’s a good driver. Meanwhile Mr Medic, who had to be a squirrel in another life began his pre-hospital care. Vitals, ekg, iv and finally some morphine. While a bit euphoric whatever amount he gave me barely touched my pain. My head was hitting the bracket on the scoop stretcher I asked for a towel or pillow. Don’t remember getting it, he had some excuse. I started to get nauseated from pain, riding backwards and the morphine so squirrel gave me zofran. I know at one point he offered to put a traction splint on my leg which I refused knowing that my femur was not the issue. As weird as it sounds I knew my hip was busted and a traction splint wasn’t going to do jackshit other than pull stuff apart.

Meanwhile my phone rang. It was the campground I was staying in. I had mentioned it to the folks on the scene who were trying to get Mom from there to hospital. I guess messages got mixed up and they called me rather than going to my trailer. I was explaining that when Mr Medic’s panties got knotted so I hung the phone up. “Mr. Medic my leg hurts, my head is bouncing off this stretcher and you yelling at me isn’t helping. Please stop yelling or I’m going to punch you in the mouth.” Jen was getting stressed out and was not happy.

We finally arrived at the hospital I thanked the gal who was driving and complimented the “smooth” ride. She laughed and said, “here comes that bike lady again.” They rolled me into the ER.

Photo credit: Internet Search

So the nurses came in and got me settled. More Morphine (I’ll pull my records and provide a med count for you soon).

My left shoe buckle was broken so they struggled a bit to get it off. Finally it came loose. Off went the bike shorts, I just told them to cut the stuff I wasn’t in the mood to be moved anymore plus I was still wet and now cold from the rain. They cut off my jersey. The hospital gown was warm as were the blankets. My feet were freezing (not unusual for me).

Someone popped in and said “she has family out front.” I’m thinking no way it’s my Mom, but whatever I don’t care. In comes sweet Eleanore! She assured me that my bike was safe and that she would take it home with her until I could get someone to pick it up. She kept apologizing for my accident. I was thinking “it’s not your fault. I did it. It’s ok.” She stayed with me until Mom was able to get there. Not sure when Eleanore left, but she will reappear later as well... next up, ER, X-ray and the surgeon (he shall remain nameless in this blog).