Red Velvet

Fear and enlightenment

3y ago
949

The anticipation and excitement of hitting the open road on two wheels was overwhelming and I could not keep the smile from crossing my face. I had been thinking of being on the back of my Harley for a few days and when I turned her over for the first time my heart began to pound just as hard as the pistons at idle. It was finally time for my first ride on a real bike. The first few kilometers of the trip were slow but confident, beginning with a hop down the alleyway to the fuel station where I took my first break to top off the tank. It was my first ride and so my friend took some time to go over the basics of riding before we hit the road. I paid for the fuel and got back on the saddle. I pressed the start button and the 88 cid engine came back to life. I rapped the throttle a bit, letting the custom chrome exhaust shout out to everyone; look out world, Robb has a badass Fat-boy and he’s coming to terrorize the asphalt.

I was a little nervous pulling out of the petrol station. I wasn’t used to how the bike moved but I quickly adapted as I pulled up to the first red light. I felt as though I had a good grip on the bike at this point and when the light turned green, I made my way up the road. Shifting felt good, holding the bars in my hands came natural and my run through town went flawlessly. Shifting up and down was smooth and I really felt at one with my machine. The sound was amazing, the feeling unbeatable. I fell in love in the first few moments of the ride. I felt like I belonged on two wheels.

We made our way towards the highway down a road that brought us up to 80kmh. I was cautious, kept my distance from the trucks in front of me and continued to find my flow on the back of my scoot. Keeping the speed limit was comfortable and we got through town without incident. We passed through the last set of lights in Drayton Valley which took us to the highway. I was behind some big trucks and they were only doing 80kmh. The passing lane opened up and the trucks moved to the right. I was comfortable, so I began to accelerate up to 100, and that’s where things started going wrong.

The road curved lazily to the right and I was leaning into my turn, but as my speed increased , the bike resisted going around the bend. I didn’t understand why it wasn’t turning, so I started to pull on the handlebars, thinking I could coax the beast round the turn. It didn’t help and the bike started making its way to the oncoming lane. I started to panic and kept pulling on the bars. My efforts were in vain for the pressure I was applying on the handlebars simply shifted my weight to the left, bringing me closer and closer to the far shoulder. It didn’t take long to run out of road and I made contact with the guardrail.

My memory is fuzzy from here. I could have sworn there was a Ford f150 in the oncoming lane, but my friend who was behind me says the lane was clear. I do not remember making contact with the rail either. All I remember is seeing the side of the road come closer and then, black.

I woke up four days later in the intensive care unit at the University of Alberta hospital. The first few moments were pure hell. I did not know where I was nor what had happened. There was a tube in my throat and it was being pulled out as I was waking up. I didn’t know what was going on and I was starting to feel fear. One of the nurses began explaining the situation to me which brought some relief. She told me I was in an accident and that I had gone through many hours of surgery. The first thing I asked was, “is my arm still on my body?” She said it was there, but couldn’t feel it. I was afraid that I had lost my arm, I was confused by the whole situation and the disorder of the moment was wearing down my psyche. I felt as though I was in the balance between life and death, leaning more towards thinking I was dead.

My fear at that moment quickly subsided as my closest friends came in to view. They were there by my side while I was in my coma and seeing their smiles when I woke up touched my heart. I was glad to see them and they were happy to see me. They stayed by my side for days while I was asleep and having them there when I awoke set my mind at ease. The first step in my recovery was taken right there; having people who loved me by my side gave me hope and that hope gave me the initial burst of strength I needed to take on recovery. I still wasn’t convinced that my arm was attached though, no matter how much they reassured me.

My voice was hoarse and my throat was dry from the feeding tube. It was difficult to speak but it did not stop me. Within moments of being with my friends, I was cracking jokes and we were all sharing in a laugh. I was still afraid, but my spirit wasn’t crushed. My friend Steve said my gravely voice made me sound like a badass mobster, so I played with that for a bit, keeping the mood light and spirits up. My first moments back in consciousness were good and it was all thanks to my loved ones being there. They did a lot to bring me back and I feel as though my light hearted take on the tragedy did a lot to ease their minds. Telling jokes and having fun moments after emerging from a coma isn’t that common of a thing after all.

That night was a little rough on me though. After my friends left, I started to feel like I was teetering between life and death again. I was still worried about my arm and the fear was compounded by the strange visions I was having when ever I would close my eyes. I saw what looked like an ocean of black and red velvet. It surrounded me and would appear to constrict my body and then let go, moving similar to the ebb and flow of waves in the ocean. The black was the same black as the infinite night sky and the shards of red were the same crimson red as blood. The velvet felt as though it totally wrapped my body and I had the feeling like I was in some kind of machine; a machine made by the gods, put there just to help mend my wounded body. It was comforting but also immensely scary.

As the days passed by, the black velvet would be replaced by the red and the shards of red would weave together, eventually resembling a blanket made entirely of red velvet. This was all in my mind of course, and when I would open my eyes, the vision would go away. Looking back on it now, I can conclude that it was just the way my mind visualized the shock from my injuries. I no longer feel fear from it, instead I see it as a comfort mechanism constructed by the gods. It really did seem like some kind of esoteric machine put in place just to help the body rebuild. The experience solidified the idea in my mind that we are more like machines constructed in factories than lifeforms spawn via some kind of divine accident.

Over the course of the next few days, the visions began to change. I started to see landscapes when I closed my eyes instead of the red velvet weave. The scenes were scary at first; I would only see a burnt forest, blackened ground and dead trees everywhere. I once again could not make sense of it and I couldn’t stop wondering why I was seeing it. My curiosity overwhelmed my fear and I would spend a lot of time looking in to the vision, exploring it, trying to make sense of it. Over time the landscapes became more picturesque. I was seeing beautiful mountains and quiet villages. It was all very strange and most likely just a result of the narcotics fed to me by the physicians.

The visions eventually subsided and now when I close my eyes I see nothing more than the inside of my eyelids. I found peace from the experience, even though my mind was wrought with fear. Facing that fear and questioning it lead to my inner peace, which then translated into the strength I now have to take on recovery. That strength has kept me positive and my positivity has brought me to a speedy recovery. I have been in the hospital for 18 days now and soon I will be released.

I set out on a journey of self discovery back on February 10, 2018 and now, 3 months later, I can say I found my true self. The person I am has been exposed by this trauma. I am a positive person, I am friendly, strong willed, loving and curiously optimistic. I finally feel in touch with my soul and at one with my self. My friends, my nurses and my doctors alike all see the same thing in me; I’m someone special. I’m different. I am not your typical human being and I have a gift. I have changed people’s lives while I’ve been bed ridden, just by staying positive, focused and friendly. I am a leader, and an inspiration. These are the things the people around me are saying. The first leg of my journey to self is complete; I have found who I am. Now I must find the place I belong.

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Comments (3)

  • What does a guy say to that.

    Glad to here your arm is attached. And hopefully you can get back in the saddle soon.

      3 years ago
3