Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad & Hampshire Air Ambulance
part:366 leap year?

Author's Note: I wasn't going to continue this story, thinking it had run its course and 365 episodes is enough for most people. However, I had emails and PMs (not PMS!)which convinced me otherwise. Also I couldn't spoil a special person's birthday, so here's the next one.
Angharad.

They tell me I was stabbed. It apparently punctured my lung and I nearly bled to death. I’m in an intensive care unit, which explains all the bleeps and other electronic noises I can hear. They also tell me they had to operate on my lung, so I’ll have a scar–just what I needed, then when I think about it, I’d probably have a scar where I was stabbed anyway.

I feel like shit, or how I imagine that feels after it’s been mangled by your guts and pooped out the end. If someone told me I’d been hit by an express train, I’d believe them, pretty well everything hurts. The way I float in and out of consciousness, means they are probably giving me loads of sedation.

Simon has been here constantly, it’s lovely to wake up and see him or Stella sitting there, or feel them squeezing my hand. They saved my life, or certainly helped to. The paramedics who answered the call from Stella and the air ambulance who took me to hospital, also helped. Once I feel stronger, I shall do a sponsored ride to raise money for them, but it might be a couple of weeks, yet.

I have lovely young nurse called Trish, who bustles around the place ordering people about. According to Simon, she helped to save me, apparently my kidneys stopped working for a short time and I was very ill. I don’t know, I was out of it sort of floating above it all, until the pain kicked in and I found myself back in my body and feeling like–you know what!

I remember a voice calling me from far away, telling me to fight, insisting I get better, that I concentrate on staying here and not give way to the urge to leave. That was Trish, apparently–she pulled me through, this far at least.

Stella told me about what happened. They were fifty or a hundred yards behind me, when this bloke in a black hoodie ran from nowhere and seemed to hit me. They didn’t know I’d been stabbed, they just saw me fall. Stella rushed up to help me and Simon went after the attacker. He told me that had he known the bloke had a knife, he might not have been so reckless, except he was so angry.

Stella tells me, Simon ran the bloke down on the bike. He ran downhill, so he was never going to outrun a Tarmac SL2, was he? Simon, apparently hit him from behind and then when the bloke came at him with the knife, Simon tried to shove the bottom bracket down his throat–that’s the bit of the bike the crank fits it. It apparently broke the bloke’s jaw in four places and dislocated it removing all his front teeth, but he dropped the knife.

The attacker’s name is, Darren Entwistle. I don’t know him, nor he me; he just hates cyclists for some reason. According to the police, they aren’t sure why he stabbed me, possibly because I was riding too fast up the hill. He thought bikes went too fast and were a danger to pedestrians and little furry things. He cares about the environment, apparently. Ironic that I’m also trying to save the planet and his lunacy nearly stopped me.

I’m trying not to get upset by what happened. I keep telling myself, he was some loony and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet, I was having a wonderful time, riding as well as ever, looking to do so much with the university in developing new courses, seeing Stella looking so well–then some dickhead with a knife nearly ended everything for me.

Stella is looking really well, I keep focusing on that. My problems have given her a chance to forget her own, and she did help at the scene of the attack. I can’t remember anything about it, just these strange dreams I have and they’re horrible. But I get so tired and then I sleep and dream.

My dreams seem to consist of this large black thing which is trying to catch me, sometimes I’m running from it, sometimes I’m riding. They’re not very nice.

“Hello, Sleepyhead.”

“Hi, Trish,” I said back, through the oxygen mask. “When can I take this off?” I pointed to the mask.

“When your lung has healed enough, I’ll tell you when, don’t worry.” She bustled around me, adjusting my pillows and things. “You’re not drinking enough; come on, let me see you finish that.” She handed me a glass of juice with a straw.

It’s an effort and I get breathless just drinking. Maybe my sponsored ride had better wait for three weeks? She reminds me my kidneys need fluid and if I don’t drink, they’ll connect me up to the mains. I’ve already got various drips running into me, so it feels like they’ve already done a mains connection.

I take my pills and then another sip of juice. I’m so tired…

Something touches me on the face and I open my eyes, Simon is standing there smiling at me, he’s just kissed me I presume. I smile back, although I don’t know if he can see it in the mask.

Tom is there too, he’s managed to sneak off work for a short time. They both take one of my hands and squeeze, I squeeze back, but I feel so feeble and I know that, much as I want to see them, I shall fall asleep while they’re talking to me–I can’t help it; I’m so tired, just so tired.

I have these two men I love so much, sitting with me. Nothing can hurt me, so why am I so frightened, why do I have these dreams, even when they are with me? Could it be the pills? Trish brings me more bloody juice to drink!

I feel full up, I don’t want to drink anymore, but Trish insists. I take another sip and pretend I’ve gone to sleep, but she knows I’m pretending. Now Simon is bullying me too–it’s not fair, and I tell them so!

“What happened to my bike?” I suddenly remember, I was riding it, what happened to it.

“It’s fine, the police took it home for you.” Simon tries to reassure me.

“It’s safely locked in the garage,” said Tom, “where it will stay until you come home.”

“Did it get blood on it?” I ask.

“Some, but we washed it up for you.” Simon isn’t usually someone I’d associate with that, too squeamish, so probably Tom or Stella did it.

“Thank Stella for me, will you?”

“How did you know she did it?” Simon looked surprised.

“Because she knows you didn’t,” said Tom, laughing. “See, she knows you better than you thought.”

Simon pouted and I zoned out again. I was vaguely aware of voices in the distance, they sounded like they were coming through water. They were quiet at first, then I heard beeping and raised voices. I didn’t worry, they were getting farther and farther away and I was quite happy. I could see that bright light again, like a shaft of brilliant sunshine, it was shining all around me, like being out on a bright summer’s day.

Maybe I was outside, I felt a bit cold, but the light was drawing me closer and I so wanted to go towards it. The voices were far away now and there seemed more of them, I was too tired to care who they were or what they wanted. I tried to concentrate on the light. I don’t think I was breathing, but as that had hurt before, I didn’t care too much. It wasn’t hurting now, now I was in the light, this brilliant blinding light. Nothing mattered much now.