Just Take Away the Keys

“Acute, comminuted, mildly displaced fracture involving the right proximal humeral head, greater tuberosity, lesser tuberosity, and surgical neck.”

A year ago today I was on my bike, out for a short shopping trip before lunch. I was heading north on a designated bike path. The driver, a 94-year-old woman in a 15-year-old Camray, was heading south. I’ll give her a name: Rose Mae. That’s not her real name, but it’s a name for a sweet old lady, and that’s what she is. That’s a fact that figures prominently into all that follows.

I had crossed half of the intersection on a green light and from a slow start, having stopped first to survey traffic. Rose Mae reached the intersection and quickly turned in front of me.

Scene of the Crime. Her, red. Me, green.

In a split second I know two things: Rose Mae doesn’t see me and she’s not going to stop. I swerve left to get out of her way but it’s too late. The driver’s side front corner of her car hits my bicycle broadside and I go down. Rose Mae drives forward 50 yards and stops.

The driver behind her saw it all and called 911. By the time Rose Mae got out of her car and hobbled back to me with the help of her quad cane, a massive emergency response was arriving: fire truck (unnecessary), police, and ambulance.

“Are you going to be alright?” She said.