And then he picked up my finger

So I'm going to start this post part way through last Saturday's crash.



As soon as I was launched forwards off my bike I had three distinct thoughts.

1. This is gonna hurt.

2. I've had this coming a long time.

3. Oh, shit, I just took the Breaker out.



Pretty soon all three of these had come true.



I tumbled a bit along the pavement and came to rest in the middle of the road. I than had one of the most brilliant ideas of my life: I should get out of the road because there was a car behind us. As soon as I got off the road I checked my helmet (this is apparent by the blood spot on my white helmet). Feeling that my hand didn't completely touch my helmet I looked at my hand. This leaves us where the Breaker wrote last post, "I think I lost my finger." It was at this point when the motorcyclist who had kindly moved the Breaker and mine's bikes off the road, stopped a car to pick my finger out from in front of its tire. That's right, I got to watch the guy pick up my finger.

Shortly after finding my way to the grass, some people had me role onto my back. Two passing women tied a tourniquet around the stump of my right ring-finger. The kept my hand on ice and elevated and orchestrated the use of the Trials Dude as shade for my head. About 30 minutes later the ambulance arrived. Two awesome paramedics got me into the ambulance and answered my annoying questions ( Is there AC in this thing?... Nope.)



Now I will jump to where Jared left us off, at the hospital.



At this point I am about as sarcastic as I have ever been. Evidently two very attractive nurses gave me shots in the hand for the pain and an IV drip of morphine. I don't remember either of them much to the Breaker, the Trials Dude, and the Breaker's Jared's dad's amusement. After a trip to X-ray, the doctor decided that it would be best if we left my right ring-finger off from just below my second knuckle. I said ok, it will make me lighter. As we all know some people pay thousands of dollars to lose the few grams that I lost in a simple accident. (Note to self, it is far cheaper and a lot less painful to loose that weight off the bike.) Shortly I was off to anesthesiology where the doctor had me preform my first left-handed signature. What a hoo... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery and being carted off to my room, where everyone was waiting. I don't remember much from here on out, so I will leave it to everyone's vast imaginations as to what took place.

Now for some owed thank yous...

To the two women who attended to my hand: thank you for doing what no one else wanted to do.
To the motorcyclist: thank you for cleaning up after me... I'll pass it on.
To the EMTs: thanks fore the ride and entertainment.
To the nurses and doctors at the hospital: thanks for understanding my sarcasm and patching me back together again.
To Paul: thanks for being the coolest boss ever.
To Rex: thanks for helping me type this post.
To the Trials Dude: thank you for the late night pep talk.
To the Breaker's family: thank you putting up with my antics, tending to my flesh wounds, putting my hair up, keeping my glass full, driving me everywhere, letting me crash on you couch, and for being great friends.
To the Breaker: thank you for everything and sorry for ruining a beautiful bike and one of you favorite activities.

Let's sprint.