So there I was, pedaling my bicycle as fast as I could down a long, straight stretch of road, feeling great. I'd just discovered the pleasures of riding a road bike, and I loved every minute that I could get away. Always a data geek, I tracked my mileage, average speed, heart rate, etc. It was a beautiful Indian summer Sunday afternoon in September. I was in my late 30s, still a baby. Out of nowhere, my chain came off right in the middle of the sprint I was timing. In true masculine fashion, I threw a fit, cursing and hitting the brakes as hard as I could. At this point, I found out that experienced riders don't do that because I flew right over the handlebars, landing on the pavement amid speeding cars. I momentarily lost consciousness, and when I regained my senses, I knew I'd screwed up badly. The pain in my shoulder was nauseating. I couldn't move my arm, and I had to just roll off the road onto the shoulder. I just lay there, hurting, unable to think clearly. Within seconds, it seemed, a man materialized beside me.
He was exceptionally calm. He didn't ask me if I was OK, since I clearly wasn't. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing. He made certain I could breathe, paused long enough to dial 911, and then started pulling stuff out of a medical bag (WTF?) to clean the extensive road rash I had. In a minute, he asked for my home phone number so he could call my wife to let her know I was going to be riding in an ambulance to the hospital. He told her he was an emergency room doctor who just happened to be right behind me when I crashed. He explained that he would stay with me until the medics arrived and that he would call ahead to make sure one of the doctors on duty would "take good care of me."
When he hung up, he asked me if I'd heard the conversation. I told him that I had and that I couldn't believe how lucky I was under the circumstances. He agreed. To keep my mind off the pain, he just kept chatting, telling me that because I was arriving by ambulance, I'd be treated immediately. He told me that I'd be getting the "good drugs" to take care of the pain. That sounded awesome.
I don't remember telling him goodbye. I certainly didn't ask him his name or find out anything about him. He briefed the EMTs when they arrived and stood there until the ambulance doors closed. The ER was indeed ready for me when the ambulance got there. They treated me like a VIP. I got some Dilaudid for the pain, and it was indeed the good stuff. They covered the road rash with Tegaderm and took x-rays, which revealed that I'd torn my collarbone away from my shoulder blade. That was going to require a couple of surgeries and lots of physical therapy. I had a concussion and was glad that I had a helmet on.
All of this happened almost 25 years ago. I've had plenty of other bike wrecks, but that remains the worst one. My daughter is a nurse, and she's like a magnet for car crashes, having stopped multiple times to render aid. She doesn't do it with a smile on her face, though; emergency medicine isn't her gig, and if anyone asks her if she's a doctor, her stock answer is "I'm a YMCA member."
The guy who helped me that day was an absolute angel. I have no idea what I would have done without him. I didn't even have a cell phone at the time. But he was there at a time when I couldn't have needed him any more badly. He helped me and then got in his car and completed his trip. I think of that day often, especially when the American medical system makes me mad, which happens regularly these days.
I've enjoyed the kindness of a lot of strangers over the years, particularly during the long hike my wife and I did for our honeymoon (2,186 miles) when we hitchhiked to a town in NJ in the rain and got a ride from the first car to pass. Another time, in Connecticut, a man gave us a $100 bill and told us to have a nice dinner at the restaurant atop Mt. Greylock, the highest mountain in Massachusetts. In Virginia, a moth flew into my wife's ear, and I mean all the way into her ear until it was bumping into her eardrum. We hiked several miles to the road and weren't there for a minute before a man stopped and took us to urgent care, 30 miles away.
When you get down in the dumps, I hope you have some memories like that to look back on, to restore your faith in humanity. There are a lot of really good people in the world.
