Crash Test Dummy

An attempt at a quick bike ride ended with an unfortunate misadventure

Royal Park Station, Melbourne

Yesterday, I decided to go out for a bike ride. I was hoping to finish the draft of a forthcoming essay to be published here soon, but it was a beautiful day, so I thought an hour or so out on the bike would do me some good. I could come home with a clear head and finish the draft.

Across Melbourne’s inner north there is a bike path. It used to be the Inner Circle train line that was discontinued in the late-1940s. For those who know Melbourne getting around the suburbs via public transport, without having to go into the city and then back out, is either difficult or impossible (due to infrequent or non-existent buses, and trams that only run north-south). The discontinuation of the Inner Circle Line remains incredibly contentious, preventing the cross-pollination between Melbourne’s hip inner-north. Although the bike path is great, it would be better if it was a least a tram route.

The path cuts through Royal Park – where the Inner Circle Line once veered off from Royal Park station. There are a couple of steep sections along the path within Royal Park and several uneven bumps due to tree roots having buckled the path. Riding down one of these steep sections, I managed to hit a severe bump and ended up over my handle bars and flew off into the garden bed beside the path.

This was, obviously, quite a shock. But I managed to get up and started to assess the damage. My hands were bleeding quite badly and I could feel that my knees had also been scrapped. Alongside this my right shoulder and arm were in acute pain, unable to move without serious hurt. I found somewhere to sit and hoped that the pain in my shoulder and arm were just a jarring that would dissipate.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case and I suspected something could be seriously wrong, and probably needed to get to a hospital. But being a time of year when people are busy with family events there was no-one to pick me up, so I needed to figure out how to actually get to one.

There was no possible way I could ride, so my best bet was to walk to Royal Park station and get the train to Parliament station, where I’d only be a short walk to St Vincent’s hospital. This is also only a 15 minute walk from my flat. Which was convenient as I would also need to get home at some stage.

At Royal Park station a kind woman who seemed to be carrying a first aid kit in her handbag was able to patch my hands up. Which was helpful as I was getting blood everywhere. Yet as the train approached I realised that I didn’t have my transport pass.

At certain stations on Melbourne’s train network you can simply walk on to a train, but other stations – like those in central Melbourne – there are barriers where you can’t get in or out without a pass. So I was able to get on at Royal Park, but knew I wouldn’t be able to get out at Parliament. I was hoping that I’d be able to convince the staff that I’d been in an accident and the train was the only way to get to the hospital.

Fortunately, this proved to be quite easy. As I was covered in blood and dirt, with a badly ripped shirt, and holding my arm in an awkward position, my story was an easy sell. I only got through about half of it before they let me through the barriers.

Upon reaching the hospital, my next problem was that I didn’t have my bike lock on me. I thought I could go home first to leave the bike and then return to the hospital, but with the pain I was in I thought I had more pressing concerns. So I decided just to find a spot in a corner to park it and hope for the best. I also felt that the bike probably wasn’t my best friend at this point, so wouldn’t be too disheartened if it were to disappear (later a nurse would go out and find it and bring it into the hospital).

Despite the pain I was in, what was amusing about the emergency ward was how the staff took delight in a very Australian trait of adding insult to injury. The first nurse I saw after being triaged quipped “So you’ve had a tricycle accident?” A subsequent doctor asked me whether I thought I might need to go back to training wheels. I suspect emergency rooms staff see a lot of stupid incidents and this was their way of dealing with morons who don’t pay attention to what they are doing (while sending a not-so-subtle message that they should).

After an initial examination it was decided that I would need some x-rays. The doctor also felt I needed to be monitored for concussion, seeming there was a big scratch on my helmet. Although I was pretty certain the initial impact was on my shoulder and the scratch on the helmet was just from the subsequent tumbling along the ground. I got set up on a bed in a partition and was told to relax.

After being periodically checked on I was taken to the x-ray room, where a number of x-rays were taken of my right shoulder and arm. It took a while for the results to be returned, but when a doctor reappeared he told me that I had broken bones in my shoulder and forearm. This was disappointing, as I’m flying to Taiwan in less that two weeks for their forthcoming election and broken bones are going to hinder me a little (today for lunch I practiced using chopsticks with my left hand – I was mildly successful, but it wasn’t easy. I’m very concerned about the cultural shame of having to ask for a fork).

I was discharged from the hospital about 7pm. The quick ride I had decided to go out on around 1pm was a bit more eventful than I had planned. The broken bones aren’t significant enough to warrant a cast, but a nurse put my arm in a sling. I then had to suffer the indignity of walking home along Gertrude St – a street with many pubs and cafés with outdoor seating – wheeling a bike with my arm in a sling and everyone being aware that riding a bike wasn’t my forté.

A final note being a recognition of the wonders of universal healthcare. I was able to enter into the hospital, be expertly tended to for several hours by lovely staff (apart from being made fun of a few times), and discharged without anyone asking me for a single dollar. I can’t imagine what this would have cost me if I’d crashed in the United States.

Typing this has been a little bit of a struggle, but feeling heartened that if I have my hand resting on my laptop it doesn’t hurt too much to type normally. This means I should hopefully be able to finish the draft I got a bit sidetracked from yesterday fairly soon.

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There’s no regular newsletter this week due to the above incident and with Christmas. Next week I’ll have a final newsletter of the year, with a bit of a recap of some of the pieces I wrote during the year, and other more pleasant adventures than yesterday’s