This Tuesday morning, I took out my bike, my faithful Yamaha 200Cc, to go to the office, a 10 minute drive. I was listening to my iPod, and moving along at a moderate speed of 50km/h, when I reached Greencroft shops. Now, this is where all the commuter minibuses (also called combis or ET’s) drop off their last passengers, turn around to head back towards city center and start picking up new passengers. Needles to say, it is a bit of a traffic hazard. Three weeks ago, we saw the results of a horrible accident there, with about 4 ambulances and a combi that had turned over three times, without having collided with any other vehicle). Knowing that these combis are quite often packed with 18 people, I wondered if even the 4 ambulances were enough.
Anyway, I was going to cross at the green traffic lights, while a truck was standing in the middle of the intersection, waiting to turn (left or right, I don’t know). Behind it, coming from my opposite direction, was a combi, wanting to turn right. Since they didn’t want to wait for the truck, they decided on a quick manoeuvre overtaking the truck on the right, which is, you have guessed it, the lane I was travelling in. I don’t know if they simply hadn’t seen me, or thought that a motorbike was not worth worrying about. Since they came out so fast, I didn’t have time to brake anymore. Instead of braking completely and risk sliding under their wheels, I tried to avoid them, and headed for the gap behind them, but they slowed too much for me to pass. Up to here I still remember everything, also the conscious decision of not slamming down completely and aiming for their rear. 
Next thing I know, I was on the ground, holding my mouth and a buzzing sound around me. As my eyes came into focus, I realized the buzzing came from about 200 people standing around me, all talking and commenting on what had happened. I seemed to be bleeding from about every lower part of my face, my nose, my lips, my neck. Every body seemed to be giving me advice:
- Stay there, don’t move, you’re in shock!
- Let’s wait for the police, they have to come first.
- Do you want an ambulance, where do you want to go?
- You should go to the Trauma Center!
- Where do you want to put your bike? You can leave it here, in my store…
With my mind clouded, I was just tried to collect my thoughts. First coherent thought I had, was to check for my belongings. My back pack was still on me, with my (work) computer. Would have to check if it was still okay later. My iPod. The woman standing over me was holding it. I mumbled: ‘Could I have it back.’ She was looking at me with a grave concern: ‘You are in shock, don’t move.’ I raised my voice a bit:' ‘Please give it back, I want to call.’ Oh, now she understood. She gave it back. I now had the difficult task of putting it discretely in my pocket and bring out my real phone at the same time. Don’t know if she noticed but didn’t really care anyway.
I called Thomas, who I had put on number 1 of my phone list thank god. I remember blood spatters falling on the phone and me wondering if it wouldn’t damage the keyboard. Thomas picked up. I said:’I had an accident, at Greencroft, can you come?’. He said': ‘Will be there straight away.’ I hung up, and just moved myself (despite the protestations of the crowd, to the side of the road. Some more people offered to call or drive me to the hospital. I knew though that I would need cash to get service, so I preferred to wait for Thomas. Nothing seemed broken anyway, just my nose. I played with the idea of trying to quickly push it back into place myself but let go of the idea. Seems my mind focuses on practical issues when shocked or drunk, like checking my things or planning ahead. 5 minutes later, Thomas rushed to me, and I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn’t said that I was okay, that it was nothing serious. I asked him to just take me away, to the hospital. While we got up, again advice and questions came for several people. I wanted Thomas to take charge of everything, and not have to deal with anyone, so I gave him some of my business cards and left it at that. They were asking where we were going, and just to give an answer, we said ‘the Trauma Center’. Initially, Thomas wanted to drive me to the Avenues, one of the better reputed hospitals down town, where we had an agreement that our staff can be serviced even without immediate cash (agreement dating from the Zim$ and not necessarily very binding on their behalf). So when we were driving past the sign that indicated the Trauma Center, I suggested we should just go there. So we did. At the entrance, nobody seemed particularly impressed by my bleeding face. The nurse at reception did however lift up the phone and said: ‘we have an emergency’ but that didn’t seem to prompt any quick ER-like reactions. She ten asked Thomas what kind of coverage we had and how we would pay. An agreement on each item seemed to be very necessary before it could be administered.
My doctor seemed okay, relaxed. Nothing went too quickly but I supposed I wasn’t bleeding to death either. Without washing my face, he started cleaning it with betadine and said I would need stitches. It’s funny how vain you are, I immediately started worrying about ugly scars and asked if he could try and make them as neat as possible. The doctor and the nurse just laughed and started sewing away. Most of the stitches were on my neck, but also one behind my right ear. I wondered how I had managed to cut myself there.
All the while, I was worried about my nose: it was all swollen up, and very numb. I was wondering if the stitches really were the priority or if somebody shouldn’t be putting my nose straight. But for that, the doctor said I would need X-rays, also to determine if I had any skull problems. When I wanted to get up, I had real difficulties, my inner thighs seemed completely stiff and aching. The only explanation I can find is that during the impact, I must have tried and squeezed them together to cling to the bike. So they brought a wheelchair and I was wheeled next door, for the X-rays.
Now there was no more urgency and so everybody started taking their time. The police came by and they took my statement, as well as the owner of the minibus, who was very sorry, and asked where we wanted to have the motorbike dropped off. We indicated a garage we often use and she promised she would leave it there. Our insurance guy also came by, but merely to drop off some forms we would have to fill in, not like he was going to take care of any of the bills straight away. The Xrays were done, and nothing seemed broken, not even the nose (though that was less conclusive). The only thing was that two vertebra (C5 and C6) had slipped by about 2mm. 
Back with my initial doctor, they said this was usually not too serious but they still recommended to buy a soft collar (10USD, sign here please) and referred me to a neurosurgeon. A certificate that I was unfit for work for the next ten days, a bill of 200USD and we were outside.
After all that, Thomas drove me home, where we quickly had something to eat and then I went to bed, though, unable to sleep, I spend my time watching some movies. Nothing too violent though, because I was still concerned about a possible concussion and thought too many flickering images could be bad for it. Since then, life was pretty quiet and boring. I stayed home for three days, enough time to watch 11 movies (most of them pretty bad) Whenever I make a public appearance, there’s of course lots of questions and stares. With all the bandages and the bruises, I feel like a cross between an Easter Egg and the elephant man. I don’t think I’ll be going to see the neurosurgeon, cause nothing indicates a serious head injury, but I made an appointment with an osteopath next week, to check on those vertebra.
Now, I am back to work, though taking it easy. The swelling in my nose has gone down, though the bruises around my eyes change every day, into an astonishing array of purple, green and blue.
I will have to sort things out with our insurance and get my bike repaired, which will probably be a lot of hassle again. Wish it had been completely ruined so I could have gotten a new one, but no, it seems it can be repaired. So, I should be back on the road soon again. Seems like I escaped with a couple of scrapes, a broken iPod and a lot of luck. 
