Look Both Ways

On Wednesday, the second day of my 10 day tour of Scotland, we were heading up to the Isle of Skye and we made a few stops along the way. It was very beautiful. And at one stop, which was pretty close to our final destination, at Fort Williams. We pulled over on the left side of the road to look at some mountains. I thought I would get a nice picture of the whole group, including the bus, with this stunning scenery in the background.

So I ran across the two lane highway and stood on the shoulder on the other side to take a picture. It was a fairly busy road. I took the pictures, and I looked to my right. There was a line of cars coming towards me, but there was an opening between two cars wide enough for me to shoot across, and so I ran to beat the car on the right, oblivious to the fact that this was the UK and the greater threat was the cars on the left. I did not see the car that hit me at about 35 miles an hour.

The driver never touched the brake. She never had a chance, since I just ran out in front of her without warning. One of my many regrets is the trauma she will carry from that moment.

I remember the impact, the thud, and felt oddly at a peace as I flew in slow motion into the air. I thought “Hmm, I’ve just been hit by a car and feel no pain. That’s nice.” But I also said to myself, “This can’t be good.”

Then, once I hit the ground, things went from slow motion to normal speed. I was on my back in the middle of the road with a group of very, very anxious people gathering around me. I wanted to assure them that I was okay, and tried to get up. Unfortunately, my voice was a hoarse whisper, at best, and my legs would not comply. Even trying to say the words, “I’m okay,” revealed that I wasn’t okay. I’d had had the wind knocked out of me, and I couldn’t really speak,

People were running around insisting that I not be moved. One of the first people to come to me was our brilliant 27 year-old tour guide, Declan, with the first aid kit. He assured me that the wound on my arm was superficial and I would be fine. Rita came by, obviously very concerned.

What happened from then on is a bit of a blur. I was frankly surprised with how quickly the ambulance arrived with the paramedics and a very, very competent, in-charge guy took control. It was odd I didn’t feel as badly as I thought I should, given the impact of the accident. I didn’t feel great but was pretty confident I would recover. However, I did begin vto get concerned when the paramedic told me, “Don’t worry. The helicopter is on the way.”

“Helicopter?!” I said. “That seems kind of excessive.” .

“Well,” he said, “we won’t use it if we don’t need it, but we just like to have it available.”

Next up, a doctor, who was just driving by, came out to offer help. His name was Joe. Another guy showed up with blankets and a pillow that he had in his car for his very pregnant wife in case she went into labor. The blankets were returned pretty bloody.

Dr. Joe asked about my condition. Declan told him that there was a severe wound on my forearm that had “subcutaneous” damage.

I teased him by looking at him with my shocked face and said, “Declan! You dirty liar! You told me it was a superficial wound!” The look on his face was a combination of sheepishness for being caught in a white lie and anxiety that said to me, “Hey buddy, If you could see what I’m seeing, you wouldn’t be joking about it.”

I also kidded the lead paramedic. When he asked what happened I facetiously blamed the accident on their crazy rules where cars drive on the wrong side of the road.

His deadpan response was, “Did anybody ever tell you to look both ways?”

“Touche’,” I responded.

I never saw the woman who was driving. I was told she was unsurprisingly hysterical. I was comforted a bit when I was told that the police said that she would not have any problems with liability because I had immediately admitted fault. But, as noted before, I do grieve the psychological impact it will have on her.

I was loaded into the helicopter and, after a pretty long wait, we took off for the hospital in Glasgow. According to Rita, traffic was completely stopped in both directions and was backed up for miles. A Good Samaritan named Craig drove Rita the two hours to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Glasgow. I landed on the roof and spent the next four days there getting excellent care from the Scottish National Health System.

I had a lot of fractured ribs and the aforementioned deep wound on my forearm. Various scrapes on my legs and feet. The arm needed a skin graft. Only pain killers for the ribs. Arrived at the hospital on Wednesday. Released on Saturday. Back on the tour on Monday.

Oh what a lucky man I am.

Tags: scotland, Travel

Category: Travel