As a foolish lad, I jumped off a garage roof and landed on a chain link fence the wrong way. The fence got me in the armpit. The emergency room doctor told me that if the puncture had been a quarter of an inch different, the fence wire would have penetrated my lung. I would have died before the ambulance arrived.
Hey, I was young and dumb. I heard the doctor’s words, but they made no difference in my adventurous life. I assumed I was entitled to a long life. You may be over fifty like me. Too many of us have lost friends, some by accident. I hope we are more cautious now. But, even when we’re cautious, bad luck and accidents can happen.
A Usually Drama-Free Ride
Recently, some friends and I were repeating the 13th Annual All-Day Oceanfront Bike Ride. Here’s how it played out in years past.
We would meet early at a Starbucks. After some caffeine and mostly true breakfast stories, we hopped on our bikes and pedaled off. We were all adults, from 30 to past social security age.
No one had anything to prove. We are not racing daredevils. After about 20 miles, we’d stop at a local chain, Pizza Port. We’d eat some pizza, recycle some liquids, and tell some more stories. Then, it was back on our bikes again.
By the end of the day, we would have pedaled 50- 80 miles, climbed an intense hill, and enjoyed our fair share of pizza, maybe some soft drinks, and probably more than one beer. After some more celebratory photos, we’d head for our homes.
That was the standard ride. Someone might get a flat tire, and a friend would stay behind to ensure the bike and rider would rejoin the group—no big deal. For years, it’s almost been entirely drama-free. This year was different.
This year, we had a life-threatening bike crash.
There was not a single folly but a combination of simple flukes. Accident investigators would call it an “event cascade.” I made a turn, nothing reckless, but a little bit of gravel shifted under my wheel, and I went down. The right front of my helmet hit the ground hard…and too fast.
We’ll skip the details of the alert people who quickly called 911 or the nurse, not in our group, who was doing diagnostics and caring within a minute. I’ll spare you the details of how the ambulance found us off-road on a narrow bike path.
I don’t remember any of that. I’m only relaying what others have told me. The recovery rate in this kind of accident is pitifully small. A dear friend, an emergency room doctor, called me a miracle patient. My bride of 46 years did amazing things to arrange for care and superb healing. When she identified a top rehab center near us, Sandy begged, pleaded, and prayed our way into it.
Now for the Reflections
May you “live long and prosper!” Hopefully, these reflections will help you or someone you care about.
A brush with death gets your attention. Surveys reveal that terminally ill people value relationships more than trophies or awards, family and dear friends more than a database of acquaintances. Improved health becomes more important than the extra food and drink they planned to give up. Unexpected visits count far more than social media notoriety.
Like most survivors, my gratitude is immense. Legacy, what others think, say, and do because of our impact, matters far more than a couple of months ago.
I aspire to many profound changes I won’t list here. I hope several folks close to me will appreciate some changes they have wanted or advised. May God’s glory, Sandy’s life and her enjoyment of it, great times with friends and family, and service to others matter more than material rewards. Contentment has displaced much of my former striving in the last few years. That peace is hard to articulate.
I missed some small joys more than you can imagine. Writing this blog brings many of your faces to mind. Receiving your calls or reading your responses are precious to me. Many of you have touched me with your joyous and tragic stories, dilemmas, life lessons, and questions.
It would be grand if you never needed an extra chance. There is no guarantee of mortal life tomorrow. I’m more aware of that now than I was before the accident.
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What would you do differently if you knew you only had 105 weeks left? There is still time to craft a more significant legacy. For those willing to share with me, I’ll pray for you and your aspirations.