The longest 7 mile ride I've ever been on

So, there I was, strapped to a back board in the rear of an ambulance. Three or four EMTs surrounded me, trying to get an IV in so they can give me my favorite pain med, morphine. Morphine, when given correctly, brings the pain down to a dull ache very quickly without getting you all goofy. My only prior experience was 18 months earlier when I had my appendix removed. The hospital staff back then asked me my weight, injected it into my IV, and in less than 30 seconds my stomach only felt like it was a little sore. I learned that day how to get attention in a hospital. The pain was so great I was slamming my foot up and down on the gurney, and banging my fist against the wall. When you do that, they bring you pain medication. My guess is that it's so you don't disturb the other patients.

But this time, it's not an internal organ that is giving me fits, it's my left foot. The foot and ankle are amazing appendages. They consist of dozens of tiny bones, muscles, tendons, ligaments, cartilages, and blood vessels in a delicate balance that provides locomotion and balance. Did I mention they also have nerves?? Lots of tiny little nerves that were all firing off to let me know to not even try to put weight on that foot. While I appreciated the effort, if it had gone away two minutes after the crash I would have been happy.

But, back to the ambulance ride. This was the first ambulance ride I ever saw a bill for in my life. I'm 49 years old, and have been fortunate enough to never have needed an ambulance. The bill for an ambulance ride was over $900. The charge just to pick me up was almost $710, and then a small mileage rate. To be fair, they did send four very professional EMTs who I felt gave me very good care. They have no idea what to expect when they arrive at a motorcycle crash, so I'm sure they send as many as will fit. Plus, they have to pick up my fat ass and put it in the ambulance, so for four guys that's about 60 pounds apiece.

Now, one does have the right to refuse an ambulance one does not call for. Hey, it's just a crushed foot, I could have asked my wife to take me to the hospital. As I was sitting on my bike earlier, trying to decide what to do, I remembered a friend of mine that was in s small crash and broke her leg. She was taken to the hospital in a car, and recovered. But she was told in the hospital that if she had put any weight on it, it would have severed her artery and she would have bled out before anyone knew. I learned in first aid class that the best thing to do is no matter how little you think you are hurt, is to lie still and wait for someone with a lot more training to show up. That's why I pay for health care, and why anyone who doesn't should probably reconsider the value of it. This little crash ended up being billed at close to $50,000. Without insurance, I would have been in deep financial trouble. All because of a broken foot. The damage to the motorcycle?? $900. Why anyone would find a way to pay for car insurance but not find a way to pay for health insurance is beyond me. Oh ... and not all motorcycle insurance policies cover medical payments for the driver. Check yours today, and if you don't have it, consider another provider.

All that being said, that's why I took an ambulance ride instead of being a brave man and ride in a car.

The ride to the hospital was .... uncomfortable. The EMTs prefered to not give me the full dosage of morphine if I didn't need it. So they gave me a little bit. It dulls the constant pain, but I still got stabbing jolts shooting up and down my leg. So they gave me a little more. Better, but they could still tell I wasn't in a good mood. So one more time and I finally stoped stiffening up every 10 seconds from the pain. We joked around a bit, as guys do. I thought I was pretty funny, but in hindsight it could have just been the morphine.

I do remember this. As I was lying down, both on the ground and in the ambulance, I kept saying things like 'fudge sticks'. For some reason, this big tough biker who is known to swear quite regularly, felt it wasn't acceptable to use F-bombs around a group of people he didn't know. I actually forced myself in the ambulance to drop a few just to keep up my reputation.

We reached the the emergency room finally and I was taken directly to trauma and given the name 'gumbo 69' . I guess in cases like mine where they don't know the full extent of the injuries and prepare for the worst, they just take you right in without all that messy paperwork. I was on a hospital gurney and being stripped of my clothes before I knew what was going on. This isn't a complaint, I have nothing but respect and gratitude for both the EMTs and the emergency room staff.

Next ... what I learned in an emergency room.

How it all started

Late in February of 2009, I was riding home on my motorcycle in Tempe, Arizona. Tempe is a college town, and bikers, both with and without motors, have to be very aware of their surroundings. I had just spent the last hour teaching photography to some intellectually challenged adults to help them get the most out of life. They are wonderful people and I was feeling pretty good about the smiles on their faces as they learned the nuances of taking pictures.

Suddenly, as is often the case, a car appeared out of nowhere, directly in front of me. Ok .. not nowhere. Let's pause that image for a second so that I can clarify. The driver of the car had just left a gas station and chose to enter my lane of traffic, right in front of me.

My first thought is 'Crap!!!!' or a similar phrase. My second thought was 'this is going to hurt' as I pushed the bike over to the right and tried to avoid the car. As Maxwell Smart used to say, 'Missed it by that much'. Or rather, in my case, I didn't miss it by 'that much'.

My left foot decided it would be the perfect bumper between a 4,000 pound car, and a 450 pound bike carrying a 260 pound rider. It did it's job perfectly, I literally bounced off the car and was able to keep the bike upright. I coasted over to the side of the road and up on the sidewalk, out of traffic. Unfortunately, a foot is not designed to be a bumper and after a quick check to make sure it was still attached and pointing in the right direction, decided that the resulting pain was a pretty good indication I shouldn't put any weight on it. And that wearing motorcycle boots is a very good idea. I was right about both, but more about the foot later.

Now .. picture this. A large man is sitting on a motorcycle on the sidewalk. He calmly turns the engine off, all the while making some pretty loud moans and groans as he realizes, now what. How do you put the kickstand down on the left side of a bike when your left foot is probably broken or crushed? I didn't even try. Instead, I lowered the bike slowly to the right, balancing on my right leg and using it to keep the bike up as long as I could. And then just crawled off it, laid on the ground, and waited for the ambulance to show up.

Which it did just as I was calling my lovely wife, who had joined me teaching photography and left just before I did. But I had to stop for gas, so she was about 10 minutes closer to home than I was. 'Honey', I said as she answered the phone. 'Could you do me a favor?? I hurt my foot, could you come and get me?' My hope was she would think I just sprained my ankle at a gas station and wouldn't panic. I was mostly right, she didn't panic until she got to where I was and saw two police cars and an ambulance.

By this time the talented EMTs had loaded my butt into the ambulance, no easy feat I'm sure and were attempting to give me an IV as my wife came in through the side door. The closest EMT assured here I was OK, which probably just meant I wasn't lying there bleeding to death with bones sticking out out of places they aren't supposed to. But my wife is not only beautiful, she is also smart and could tell I wasn't in any immediate danger of dying so said the only thing a caring, loving wife should say. 'I told you to be careful!!!!'. We all laughed and got back to work getting me set for the trip to the hospital.

Where the real story begins....