Evelyn's Thought Vault

I tuned in to the inauguration early and saw lots of "man on the street" interviews, on thing was said over and over.  "I never thought I would live to see this day." Or "I never thought this day would come."  By the context and intonation, I believe the people saying this were being literal.

That makes me sad and a little confused.

From my earliest memories of learning about politics I was told I or any of my friends could grow up to be president.  My parents considered the history of our government exceedingly important so by the time I was six I knew that the right to vote was a hard won right first for our nation to become a democracy at all, and then to apply our ideal that "all men are created equal"  ... and women too.  So as I flipped through the pages of "Mr. President" I understood that there were obstacles in the past which explained why everyone in the book was a white man.  Still knowing this did not shake my belief that when the people most liked the ideas of a black candidate or a female candidate (or Hispanic, or Asian, or blind, or non-christian, or any number of other possibilities) then that would be the time we would get such a person as president.  It makes me sad to think that others did not believe such a thing possible.

So my question is this, Is this disconnect because of my age, or where and how I was raised, or have a few rude people ground down the hopes of so many?

I could see this being a generational issue.  After all it wasn't until I was applying for college that I realized how recently colleges had limited opportunities for women.   I was shocked to discover that my Alma Matter hadn't had its first female student until the late 70's.  Only when I brought this up did I discover that my mom had truly wanted to attend law school at USC but was refuse because she was female.  So the past I once believed to be far distant, wasn't that long ago.  I can see how a person could still carry the scars of that not so distant past.  Still despite her own experience my mother saw how things had changed for women and raised me to believe I could be anything and do anything I set my mind to.  I would hope that my elders all would have seen how far this nation has come, and would raise their children with such faith in their own liberty and ability.

Perhaps it was just the result of living in a military town where we would say "If he outranks you, you had better salute even if he's purple!"  I and my friends made friends as we saw fit and no one treated the racial mix of our group as strange.  As far as I could see people treated everyone the same regardless of religion, ethnicity, or disability.  My parents associations were similar though perhaps more diverse in terms of wealth.  When my parents held a party no one seemed isolated or left out on account of anything other than being uninterested in talking.  The only variation I really noticed was a reluctance to mention a person's race when trying to identify which "Bill" someone was talking about.  I recall once performing this dance with a friend and us both felling silly and guilty when in a desperate attempt to make sure we were talking about the same girl one of us broke down and mentioned the friend we were describing was black.  We both felt rude mentioning it, yet we agreed that if she was blond or red headed we probably would have started the attempt to describe her right there.  Are my experiences with race that strange?  Do people react so differently to race in other parts of the country?

I am not completely out of touch, from time to time I see glimpses that perhaps other parts of the country aren't like this.  These mostly come from the media and I am hesitant to put too much faith in people who make their money by reporting 1.3 magnitude earthquakes and telling everyone that kids hang out in "clicks" (aka a fixed group of friends) and that this is somehow dangerous.  And I guess some parts of the country could be racist.  Still I don't see our country having enough bigots to stop a person getting elected.  I have seen people say horrible things as a way of trying to get attention, but I don't see it much.  Could reporting like that and occasional acts of rudeness make a person afraid that the world hates them for no other reason than the color of their skin? 

It is my sincere hope that this issue is generational.  Our generation was raise with Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech ringing in our minds.  That one day he hoped his children "will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."  I hope when Obama looked out at our nation he saw our generation living that dream.  If he understood such a divergence to exist, it would add a reason why he engaged young voters so extensively in his campaign.  It might mean that the limits we see are, at times, self imposed and we can be free of them if we just recognize that nothing stands in our way.

My friends bike accident makes the 4th seizure I have seen in the last 8 years.  The surrounding accident confused me at the time, but the seizure is clearly separable. 

For those of you who don't see the relation or can't sort out the parts, I will outline a seizure based on my experience.  I think every one I have seen have been grand mal seizures. (I AM NOT A DOCTOR OR ANY KIND OF MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL, ASK A PROFESSIONAL IF YOU REALLY NEED TO KNOW)

Phase 0: A sudden shout or jerking of limbs.  I call it phase zero because I have only seen it once.  It looked like she was trying to call a friend or summon a manager.  But it meant something to my mom and she acted on it.

Phase 1: Fainting, if there was no Phase 0, it looks totally innocent.  The victim falls limp.  It looks almost like sleep.  They stay limp for a bit and it might seem safe to approach, I watched my mom pull an epileptic clerk (who had a Phase 0) from her booth and safely lay her down where she couldn't get hurt.  But be careful because I also saw a surgeon narrowly avoid getting punched in the face when, with out Phase 0, suddenly...

Phase 2: The patient begins to convulse.  Any muscle can malfunction now.  This can be really freaky.  Gurgling noises seem to be common but the rest can vary a lot.  The torso at minimum will convulse, but the limbs can become dramatically involved like a marionette with a rookie operator.  I've even seen the patient turn bright red, open blood shot eyes that didn't seem to see or respond to anything and then do the marionette thing, while at the same time seeming to attempt communication.  This has to be what people saw when they said someone was possessed.  Main point keep your self safe from the patient now.  But don't go far, stay near their head if you can. There is a real risk that the patient will vomit.  I don't say this to be gross.  If they inhale this they could get aspiration pneumonia.  I have only seen one seizure result in vomiting, fortunately the patient wasn't punching so she could be safely positioned to avoid aspiration.  Try to keep the airway clear.  This phase will pass soon enough.  NEVER NEVER RESTRAIN A PERSON HAVING CONVULSIONS. Chance are high one or both of you will get hurt, the convulsions can be very strong.

Phase 3: When the convulsions stop the patient falls completely unconscious. Okay technically the patient is unconscious from the moment they faint.  Its just that all the jerking around isn't what I think of when I think of unconscious people.  Anyway at this point you are safe.  All the victims I have seen have been breathing calmly and easily at this point and begin to return to normal skin tones. (Blood shot eyes take longer.)  Of course it doesn't hurt to check that they are still breathing. You are near the head right?

Phase 4: Gradually the patient wakes up.  They are going to be really confused.  It will take a bit of time to become reoriented.  At first the patient may not be able to respond.  But they will be looking at your face rather than past or through you.  It will be a bit like waking someone up who hasn't had enough sleep yet.  They may have trouble looking at you for long because they may feel dizzy.  You may not sound coherent to them.  That's okay.

Phase 5: An exhausted but otherwise normal person is back, assuming they didn't get injured somewhere between Phase 0 and now.

 My faith in helmets is nothing new. I have been faithfully wearing a bike helmet every ride since about the second grade.  That was when my school's bike safety class mentioned that the vast majority of fatal bike accidents involved head injuries.  In trying to persuaded my parents to buy a helmet for myself, I wound up selling them on helmets for the whole family.  My friends teased me for it, assuming my parents were paranoid.  I told them that the reasons were mine with all the statistics I knew.  Soon my friends started wearing helmets.  I am proud of this. Now days, I think everyone I know wears a helmet.

And yet I read that lots of people still don't wear helmets.

I have a new commitment and I only need one statistic for it.  From this day forward should anyone wish to ride with me who is not wearing a helmet, I will refuse.  IW's helmet and face took the full impact of and adult body doing probably 10-15mph head first into asphalt. That helmet saved his life, it saved his brain, and oddly it saved the rest of his body which seems nearly unscathed.  I will give you a real statistic now. Only 5% of bicycle fatalities involved a rider wearing a helmet.  Of those almost all of them involved a car.  Given a fall from a bike and a rider with a helmet, I can rest assured that they are bruised but not broken.  Had I know that at the time I probably wouldn't have had a panic attack.  I might have even recognized that it was a grand mal seizure which probably caused the accident. Instead I thought a great friend was going through death throws.  I was deeply shaken by the simulation.  I have no confidence that I could recover from the real thing, and I have no intention to find out.

IF YOU WON'T DO IF FOR YOUR BRAIN, DO IT FOR YOUR FRIENDS.
WEAR A HELMET EVERY TIME.

CC AND THE CSO MAY NOT WANT TO READ THIS ONE EITHER...

With our dear friend loaded into the ambulance and his condition uncertain our to do list exploded.  His wife needed informed.  His things needed returned to his house.  Then we needed to get to what ever hospital he was going to.  Most of the people defused as the police and fire fighters cleaned the blood out of the street.  Those that remained offered help.  My husband and I turned to trying to figure out what happened.  At the curb we discovered a mysterious factor. The fragments of lens in a wide arc on the side walk, more than a foot back from the curb!  Did he crash here, and end in the street from sheer momentum?  My husband picked up a fragment of headlight.  I retrieved half of IW's glasses, the other half, last seen on his face, were missing.  The lenses were gouged too deep to be of use, the titanium frame he selected for superior strength bent straight up.  I pocketed this, perhaps it would be of some use in getting a replacement.

We made it to the hospital and parked next to his wife's car.  We were allowed in his room where he tersely asked us to leave, and informed us that he had likewise asked the same of his wife.  He was waiting for permission to move his neck.  After leaving, I had a half melt down, I still hadn't seen him move anything.  With a little help from a friend who arrived with text messaging, we found Mrs. IW.  Let me tell you it is hard to find out a guy's medical status when he doesn't want you in his room.  We decided to wait for a nurse out side his room.  We approached only close enough to see his feet.  I saw them move! I informed his wife.  She fell back against the wall, simultaneous horror and relief colliding in her mind and expression.  I was afraid I shouldn't have said anything, but her friend soon informed me that her stress was measurably reduced.  I crept closer, his right hand rested peacefully on his stomach rising and falling rhythmical.  Two IV bags stood near by, and a vitals monitor was clipped to his finger.  Years of experience told me that the rhythmic beep was as it should be.

With little information from the staff, my husband and I eventually conceded that we would need to leave.  Mrs. IW had a friend to support her, and who knows how long before we would get answers.  But I couldn't leave his wife in uncertainty.
"I think I feel okay leaving now," I told her "There are three things I was looking for and we have a yes for all of them.  His brain is still there, he moves and..." I trailed off.
"and he is alive," she finished.
I had my reservations about his brain, both physically and emotionally but I couldn't mention them.  She would need to hold out through the night.

The next day (Monday) was plagued by fear.  And constant mental field trips to the 'pavement scene.'  My husband described it as September 12th syndrome.  (We were in NY on 9/11.)  Updates from the Mrs indicated our friend was doing okay physically (broken nose, face that may scar) but had little memory from the previous night, we couldn't decide if this was good or bad.  He remained in an unhappy mood, refusing all visitors save for his wife.  She gave us her blessing to try,  we decided to wait for his permission.

How bad was the memory loss? Was he keeping us away until he felt better, or would we be pushed away forever associated with that horrible day?  He had reason to be moody now (he had to have one hell of a headache), but had the head injury changed his personality?  Research and careful attention to the medical terms used brought me to the conclusion that the head injury alone was no worse than what thousands of highschool football players suffer every year.  Winter weather would arrive before he could be back on the bike, but no personality change should occure.  I called my mom to verify my conclusions.  She suspected we would need reminded to stay off ladders soon.

On Tuesday I was felling better.  At work, I quickly finished a report I couldn't seem to start the day before.  I found errors in the data I was trying inconclusively to check the day before.  And then I made the fateful decision to check Mrs. IW's blog.  The article about his condition was okay at first until I saw the words minor subdural hemorrhage. I cried. I checked my e-mail for more info it was 5mm. I went looking for the head of my division.  I had to call California, I had to ask my father (a medical doctor) what this would mean.  The internet was failing me, "22% chance of less than full recovery."  I knew I was probably being silly but I wasn't going to get anything done until I knew.

My dad took some info and concluded that the length of unconsciousness was reasonably associate with the seizure rather than the fall.  He assured me that the subdural hematoma (not hemorrhage) should heel on its own, but the doctors needed to be careful that it didn't worsen.  If it did he informed me the prognosis was excellent and the corrective procedure was minor.  It has been performed successfully for centuries.  "They have to drill a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure." I responded sadly informing dad that I knew what he meant.
"No to let the evil spirits out." He responded jovially.  He mussed for a bit about what tools might have been used in prehistoric times to perform the operations.  I felt much better, my parents with all the details were positive, blaze even, about his situation.  When she was my age my mom treated lots of victims of motorcycle accidents (she never wants me on one).  In over 30 years as a doctor my dad has probably treated hundreds maybe thousands of trauma patients.  Neither were the least bit concerned.

Since he was reportedly in good spirits we decided to try calling and ask IW for permission to come.  We eventually caught him awake, and got permission.  We checked in to the neurology ward and asked directions to his room.  Upon hearing his name, the nurse pointed behind us.  I was shocked to see him out of bed.  He smiled and waved like a wind up toy as he approached the nursing station.  With much gesticulation and rambling start and stop sentences he requested silverware.  His dinner hadn't been delivered because the lunch tray was still there, but fortunately his wife's friend had brought food, so he just needed silverware.  I was beaming! The nurses don't know but this is precisely the way he was before the accident, down to the last mannerism.  He easily pops back into his bed.
"So did I make 30 miles?" He asked enthusiastically.
"Yes, but you weren't suppose to stop there." I responded with an answer some of the concerned neighbors had helped me prepare.
He threw his arms up in celebration.  My smile grew broader.  We talked easily about the accident.  He said he had been thinking about it and the seizure triggering the accident was the only thing that made sense to him.  His parents also revealed a prior seizure in his life.  I told him about the lens fragments and the way his body lay in the street.  I left out that my father-in-law a fire fight with many years experience says that when thrown only the sleeping and the drunk land in a perfect line.  Since he was sober, IW was very likely unconscious.

With the mystery laid aside, we chatted, joked, and played games.  It was a very happy evening.

CC AND THE CSO MAY NOT WANT TO READ THIS...  it's sorta bad, but I needed the therapeutic writing.

So the weather at last turned reliably nice and we schedule to go for a ride with our friend IW on Saturday.  That didn't quite work out so we rescheduled for Sunday September 23rd.  That day the 3 of us and our bikes assembled at  his house. We checked our bikes, bike computers, camelbaks, and helmets.  My husband, Ryan, noted that IW's computer might not be properly calibrated so we resolved to compare read outs for calibration purposes.  IW also noticed that Ryan's helmet had cracks presumably from UV damage.  My husband said he planed to replace it at the end of the season.  IW wasn't happy with that and insisted it should be replaced promptly, saying "I don't think that thing is protecting your head all."  I promised to advance the plan.

We headed out with a goal of doing 20miles.  Well 10+ miles into the ride all of us were feeling good, great even, and I noted that we were not very far the mile marker near a park I had long hoped to reach.  The park has campground and I think it would be fun to go on a bike camping trip.  And if I could reach that and get back in one day.  I should be able to make a weekend of it in the future.  Just have to borrow a kiddie trailer from my sister so we can haul all the gear.  Anyhow the guys agreed to go along since it would put us at 30 miles for the day.  We hit the mile marker that the park was near took a break and headed back.  Well technically that was one of several breaks.  Good as he is IW is a first year cyclist and he is more like I was last year.  He needs breaks more frequently and can't sustain speed bursts for as long.  He also forgets to down shift before stopping so watching him get started gives my husband a laugh.

On our way back we stopped in the town of Vienna got some salty snack and looked unsuccessfully for batteries for my bike's tail light.  We then stopped by a Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream and smoothies, with a following stop at Whole Foods for some particular snacks the "IW" enjoys.  With that we headed home.  But it was latter than we thought, time to get my jacket out and before long time to turn on the headlights.  IW didn't have his because he didn't think we would be out so late.  As we neared his part of town on the trail we stopped to consider if we should take the longer route to ensure hitting 30 miles, or the shorter more convoluted one.  IW wanted to make sure we hit 30 miles so he voted for the longer route which was more familiar to him as well.

We transferred a headlight to him so he could lead the way and a working tail light to me to bring up the rear.  Nervous as I was about the ride back it seemed to be going well.  We went slow and were staying nicely bunched together.  We called out any inconsistencies in the sidewalk which might pose a threat.  Most of them where full visible but I noticed in the shadowier places under the trees my headlight was starting to be needed and I hadn't focused it quite right.  It was a great ride, but we were almost home.  IW kept pausing to ask Ryan (whose computer more closely matched the trail markers) if we had reached 30 miles yet.  No not yet.  We assured him we could do doughnuts in the drive way or go around the block an extra time if necessary to make sure we made 30. I remember my excitement when I was setting distance records.

So we continued riding along.  We were almost in sight of his street.  Then the headlight turned to face me, tilted upward and there was darkness.  Ryan and I both knew instantly there had been a fall.  Ryan heard a sickening thud.  I just knew it was there.  With out a word we stopped our bikes and ran to help him up (or so I thought).  Instead we found him motionless in the intersection lying in a perfect line with his direction of travel.  No sprawl from his arms or legs,  His bike a few degrees off from him.  My husband quickly lifted the bike off and tossed it into the grass.  His foot was in the back spokes and dragged along with for a moment and then flopped back into the street.  There was no one there, the dog walkers had disappeared a while back and the cars were few and far between.  Then suddenly he began to convulse his back arched and he made a terrifying yet familiar gurgling sound.  But there was no flailing his body stayed in the line.  Part of me said don't move accident victims and the other part of me knew that a person having a seizure could vomit and aspirate.  With great fear I chose not to touch him.  He was face down if he did vomit he probably wouldn't be at much risk of breathing it back in.  But now I knew he needed a doctor that instant.  I was was clearly in over my head.  My husband said we needed to call 911, where was IW's cell phone?  But I couldn't, the phone was under him.  I was intensely aware that his spine could be damaged and if I moved him the breathing might stop.  We needed to flag down a car, and the first one I was aware of in a while was coming.  I called for a light and Ryan tossed me a headlight.  I got into the street and waved the light as big as I could.  The car stopped and the passenger's window rolled down.  It was a father and teenage son.  Call 911 we yelled in desperation over.  They asked for more info and I was shaking almost too hard to answer.  I gave the basics, bike accident, seizure, not conscious, oh please get help.  A white car was coming through the intersection, right at IW.  I ran in front of him his quiet still body with the light.  The car pulled into the nearest parking spot and the driver and a passenger got out.  What's going on they asked?  More people from the neighborhood were gathering.  IW was gaping now, harsh horrible gasps of air. But still no motion save for the arch of the back.  His arms didn't try to come out from under him.  He wasn't conscious.  The SUV driver got out of his car in a flailing walk approached but seemed to be trying to stay away.  I turned to the people gathering from the neighborhood.  A doctor I begged, is anyone a doctor, does a doctor live near by?
The faces were blank, what has happened? they ask
He fell from his bike.  A doctor please.
Was he hit by a car? No he just fell.
Need someone to call 911?  No, 2 people have already called.

Two white hair old men (at least one from the car) knelt over IW, a hand resting lightly on IWs back the driver of the car spoke calmly to 911 operators unlike the SUV drive who seemed to flit nervously about his head.  I drew closer to provide light.  The elder gentleman narrated calmly that "the young man" was breathing.  That yes he was wearing a helmet, that the helmet appeared to be crushed.  I walked around, the blood flowing into the street wasn't too much.  But was it coming from his face which had clearly tangled with the pavement?  Or ... I peaked under the helmet, it could be his ear I just couldn't tell.  His ear canal touched the pavement right about where the blood was flowing.

Oh lord please don't let it be his brain.  I quivered deeply, visibly.  A slender blond woman emerged from the crowd, and took me aside and let me cry.  She assured me of all the things I already knew; that face wounds bleed a lot, that the paramedics would be there soon, that he would be well taken care of.  Still my melt down continued.  I couldn't say it I couldn't even think it, but I was afraid that he was dying or that he would never be the same again.  Instead I said how much I cared about him. IW began to moan, a long guttural nursing home cry for help, but a cause for hope no less.  I relaxed my grip and looked down.  The headlight in my hand was broken, the lens shattered but the LEDs were working.  And I began to believe that help would soon arrive, and arrive in time.  I took a deep breath the moaning was calming, and the elder gentleman was talking to IW telling him not to move.  I decided that my friend needed me, and that I could pull myself together to let him know he was not alone.

"You've had an accident," I informed him "stay still, the paramedics will be here soon." I wondered if this sounded dumb.  He had already been told this repeatedly.
"Okay." he answered like a man half asleep.
"You had a seizure." I hoped he would mention any useful medical history.
"That's odd." He answered, his upper eyebrow expressing bemusement.
"The paramedics are here, I have to let them in now."
"Okay" I think he understood, but there was only bland acceptance behind the word.

I stepped back a little and tried to provide light.  "He had a seizure?" a paramedic asked.  I confirmed.  Then the mobile lighting came in and I yielded my position though perhaps not as much as I should have.  I took the hint to step back; but I see why police turn up for accidents.  It's to get the frighted friends and families out of the way so the paramedics can do their work.

I answered questions, looking back occasionally as the paramedics cut off his shirt.  There goes an expensive piece of clothing I mussed, but it didn't matter.  I could hear, even from a distance that he was answering questions his voice was stronger.  He confidently answered the date as August 8th.  It wouldn't occur to me until latter that we were near the end of September. His upper body now stripped of all but the white cap he wore to wick away sweat, he was flipped and hoisted onto the gurney.  The bloody side of his face toward me.  It occurred to me that it looked rather like a Palestinian funeral.

Someone from the crowed broke into my thoughts asking if he was dead.  "No, he is alive," I replied without turning. What else he is I do not know, my mind continued.

It's been a long time since I have typed and I have been meaning to update how I feel about how the cycling has been going.  I'm the sort of person who never feels like writing about the ordinary.  Well my most recent ride was far out of the ordinary and I feel the need to write.  This will result in a small flurry of posts.  Before those, I should mention how much my ordinary has changed.

Let me make it clear that I do love my bike.  My husband is great fun to ride with (not at all the exercise monster I feared).  And I've gotten sort of good at this. Living in a big city there is great the number of things one can do on a bike,  you could say that keeps me motivated but I just thinks it makes me happy.  I really hate being cooped up in a car on a sunny day, but there is only so much one can get done on foot.  The bike extends my range, and I love it.  It helps that my body's ability to deal with riding has greatly improved.  It's nice to be able to enjoy the scenery rather than panting and worrying about sore muscles. 

We have been everywhere on the bikes; the grocery store, work, the craft store, a friend's house, metro stations, car repair shop, national parks, and perhaps best of all the zoo.  Last year saw great improvement in my range, taking me on several rides in excess of 30 miles.  This year I haven't done as many long range rides but my endurance and average speed has notably improved.  My father-in-law, who is very serious about exercise (he still fights wildfires at the age of 52) called me a speed demon.

We also convinced a friend, "IW" of the joys of biking.  He doesn't like to drive in the city so much that he has no car.  So the bike was a sure fit and my enthusiasm was speaking directly to his needs.  Now he looks way more serious than us.  For starters he was extremely tall and thin to start out with so he looks natural on a bike.  To top it off he bought more athletic wear, more bike accessories, and a more expensive helmet than either I or my husband had.  He rides his bike to work and quickly found out how great the trails and the bike racks on the buses are in our area.  The latter item being something we didn't know about.