I really enjoyed hanging out at the backpackers with Pete, Mark and Hana. Pete and Mark cooked a great dinner while we shared stories, not heading to bed till after 10! Next morning, Rachel, Dulkara and Caleb dropped in to say bye before we all headed off, Pete and I gratefully cadging a ride to Invercargill with Mark and Hana’s friend Sier.
Accommodation in Invercargill was strangely scarce, and after a double-booking fiasco Pete and I found ourselves heading for the Holiday Park some kilometres from town. I scooted my bike there while Pete picked up our parcels from the post office. Sitting on my bike – or comfortably on anything – was still out. My whole body had noticeably swelled up, whether from dehydration or some other electrolyte imbalance, not unusual after events. While I was in pain, the post-event high was strong, and I didn’t feel concerned.
I brought my flight home forward, for an eye-watering $300 despite it being flexible, and packed my bike into my Tardis, which I had posted down. I felt extremely grateful for that decision, which meant being able to fit in a taxi rather than having to ride the airport. Flying home at an extremely early hour, I fidgeted constantly, unable to sit comfortably.
When I got home, I did a lot of icing with legs up the wall, and convinced myself the swelling was receding. But after a weekend catching up with friends, reality crashed down on Monday morning at work. After an hour at my standing desk, I realised I didn’t actually feel that great, and booked a doctor’s appointment. When your GP says ‘I don’t like the look of that’, followed by ‘when did you last eat’, you know it’s not going to end well. By 11am I was at A&E with a referral to the surgical ward. I couldn’t sit, so after a while they got me to lie on a trolley in the corridor, the very same place I had lain 10 years earlier after stick blending my finger, generating unfortunate deja vu. I briefly felt sorry for myself. But then I saw a distraught mother run in with a baby.
After a while I was transferred to the surgical ward. The next two days were spent waiting for an ultrasound and then a surgical slot. There were differences of opinion about whether the haematoma, as they diagnosed it, was infected, but the specialist deemed it so.
The worst thing about these 48 hours wasn’t the waiting. I knew other people with life-threatening injuries deserved priority. It was the hunger. On Monday, after a handful of almonds at 9am, I had no food till a single sandwich late evening. Tuesday was back to nil by mouth till a registrar thankfully said to me at 5pm that I could eat now. It was almost like I could feel my muscles eating themselves, and the starvation definitely didn’t help my mood. When they weighed me pre-op, I’d lost 2kg in two days.
At midday on Wednesday I had my first ever general anesthetic, which was less scary than expected. I remember having a discussion with a recovery room nurse about bike lanes, and was back home by 6pm.
The haematoma had indeed been infected and the wound was now packed. Over the coming days it healed well, and after two weeks I could sit down (I won’t say more about this period apart from it being painful and feeling endless!). After four weeks I was gingerly back on my bike, commuting, though it was several months before I risked a longer ride.
Everyone (including me) wonders how this injury happened, so they can avoid it (again). I remember riding over those millions of river stones at Haldon Arm and feeling tenderness on that sit bone. Perhaps that exacerbated an earlier impact I’ve forgotten. It was news to me that infections could occur without broken skin, and even travel around your body. I had a number of nasty scratches on my leg that could have been a factor. But after many hours thinking it over, there’s no clear answer.
TTW22 kicks off next week. I’ll be avidly dotwatching. Unlike other events I’ve done, it hasn’t seemed easier in retrospect. But my position has softened from ‘never again’ to ‘never again on that bike’…
Great account Amanda! Riveting read. What an epic ride. You overcame so much adversity. Good that one of the two comms managers in the field finally wrote up their ride. 😉
Thanks Andy! Yes writing can feel a bit like work sometimes, good to get this done 🙂