Scapula schmapula

So, the motorbike incident. Here we go.

I (Steven) was on my way to my favorite coffee shop (which my teammates and I call "The Office" due to the fact that we tend to camp out there with their high-speed wireless and do a lot of lesson planning) when my plans were rather suddenly put on hold.

To get to The Office from the university, you need to pull a U-turn in the middle of a main street and then cut quickly to the right to turn into the driveway. Though it might sound a bit sketchy, it's a maneuver I've pulled off successfully many times since moving to Quy Nhon and is generally really easy due to the lack of traffic in this city. Thursday, I was a bit distracted by the fact that it was starting to rain and I was without a jacket--I wanted to get in under cover as quickly as possible.

As I pulled the U-turn next to the cafe, I noticed one motorbike coming the other direction at a rather high rate of speed. I started to pull to the right to turn into the driveway of the cafe, and then my cautious American brain made me hesitate (the speedy motorbike was in the right lane and I didn't want to try cutting in front of him). Bad choice.

Apparently the motorbike driver had seen me start to move right and thus had cut into the left lane. Things between us quickly became up-close and personal as Mr. Motorbike smacked into the back of my poor old bicycle doing (I would estimate) somewhere around 25-30 mph. As I suddenly found myself launched into midair in a sitting position, I instantly knew what was happening. It was a scene that I had rehearsed in the "worst case scenario" part of my mind many times before--me getting nailed by a speeding motorbike--and in all of those potential scenarios, it never really ended well for me. As I headed rather ungracefully for the pavement (screaming bloody murder the whole way), I was fully prepared for things to go from bad to worse.

I landed--near as I can tell from my memory and injuries--more-or-less on my butt and right shoulderblade in the middle of the road. I kept waiting for something from behind to bash into my head or wrench my arm or leg in the wrong direction. Nothing. Soon enough, I came to the realization that I was sitting in the middle of the road, looking back at a laid-over motorbike tangled with my bicycle, shouting something at the driver that I'm glad he couldn't understand.

The driver and passenger of the motorbike seemed to be okay and I was--to my utter disbelief--mostly okay too. I waddled around on the street long enough to grab my flip-flops from where they'd landed (they're Chacos and I didn't want them to get run over or stolen), then made my way to the curb where I sat down and did my best not to pass out. I think my body had released its full supply of adrenalin for the month in the half second it took for me to go from bike to pavement. I made a quick call to Joelle, who sped over on her bike to help me (and to disperse the crowd that always forms at any accident scene).

In a bit of a funny side note, the motorbike rider had been carrying a big handful of jicama (turnipy things) with them, which had gone sailing every which way when they connected with my bike. They rescued a few of them, and then onlookers grabbed the rest. One man stood looking down at me, white as a sheet on the sidewalk, as he munched the veggie that he'd plucked from the middle of the road. I would have laughed had I not been so close to tears.

The motorbike driver eventually came over to me, bowed his head a bit, and offered the best xin lõi (Sorry) that he could. That was that. I didn't really feel like making a big deal out of anything (lacking the language skills to do so even if I had wanted to), and was frankly just thankful to be alive. People went their own ways, Joelle helped get me into a taxi and we headed back to the university.

An x-ray the following day showed that I have a fracture in my right shouler blade. According to our nurse-friend Kimberly, it's a bone that's almost impossible to break on its own, without some sort of other major trauma or life-threatening injuries being involved. Perhaps it was a bit easier in my case, since my shoulder blades stick out like chicken wings from my 0% body-fat back. All it means is that I need to have my arm in a sling and not go violently moving my shoulder around for the next couple of weeks. Shouldn't be a problem.

There are some good things that have come out of this--like the fact that I don't have to do dishes for at least a couple of weeks, and that we had a string of visitors for a few hours yesterday afternoon coming by to make sure that I was okay and offering their advice. (So far the advice we've heard from students has amounted to: Drink lots of milk and orange juice, avoid eating chicken or sticky rice as those prevent wounds from healing, and don't take a shower every day. Reason for that last one...unknown.)

Anyway, that's the latest and greatest from here. Current broken bone count: 2 in less than 9 months. Yes, I'll be more careful. Yes, I'll wear my helmet whenever I ride my bike from now on. No, it doesn't hurt too bad.

Take care, y'all.