Parenting Myself Earlene Ahlquist Chadbourne, Custom Communications Publishers (page 2 of 2) Page 2 of 2

No one ever reported such an incident to the police. The second accident, however, had two witnesses who saw me riding unsteadily down a hill ahead of their car. The driver put his brakes on, refusing to pass me. He commented to his wife, “We’d better wait. She looks like she’s having trouble.”

They reported that the front wheel of my bicycle wobbled as I tried to control the handlebars. The hapless couple watched in horror as, still heading downhill, I fell forward over the handlebars and landed on my head. The woman, a licensed practical nurse, ministered to me as best she could while her husband went to a nearby house to call the police and an ambulance.

The officer who reported to the scene made a succinct report of the situation as she found it:

On Tues., 08/14/90 at 1340 hrs., this officer was dispatched to the intersection of Heath & Mc-Kenney Road in ref. to a bicyclist being injured. Saco Rescue responding as well. Upon arrival, a female was observed laying face down on the pavement in the middle of the intersection of McKenney and Heath Roads. A bicycle was lying on the pavement close by. Female was bleeding from the head and ear area. A female witness, identifying herself as an LPN, was holding a towel to the injured female’s head. Saco Rescue arrived a few seconds after this officer and took over caring for the injured female. Female was unable to tell us her name or any information and was conscious but not coherent upon officer’s arrival. This officer spoke to two witnesses.

While reading the report, Ted and Dad recalled that I had always ridden bikes with foot brakes. Ted’s bike, which was new to me, had hand brakes. Had I gripped the brakes too tightly and catapulted over the handlebars when the bike stopped suddenly? That seemed plausible for the second accident, but what about the first? Had I been hit by a driver who had sped off, leaving me bleeding and too dazed to know what I was doing when I got back on the bike? Could someone have left me to die?

The family waited in agony as each hour crept by. Lorraine, my younger half-sister and Tania, Ted’s daughter, took turns washing blood out of my hair and gently combing it during their five-minute visits to my bedside. Thanks to them, I was not shaved bald. Despite all their efforts and concern, I remained in a coma. The next forty-eight hours were critical. Would the swelling in my brain stop in time? Would a portion of my brain have to be removed? How would I fare then? Would I survive? And if I did, who would I be?

Excerpted from Parenting Myself by Earlene Ahlquist Chadbourne,  published by Custom Communications Inc., www.desktoppub.com. Copyright  © 2009 by Earlene Ahlquist Chadbourne. Excerpted by permission of  Earlene Ahlquist Chadbourne. All rights reserved. No part of this  excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing  from the author. To purchase the book or for more information: www.parentingmyself.com.
 

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