The one and only time I rode a motorbike, I wrote it off.
Even though this was two years ago now, whenever I tell anyone this, they're intrigued about what happened. For some context, this happened in June 2018 during my second-year Summer. The year before, I had ridden on the back of a motorbike for the first time and over these years I was in a phase of wanting to try everything and loving a bit of adrenaline.
My dad randomly decided that he wanted to learn how to ride a motorbike, and since my mum was on holiday, he signed me and my brother up to learn with him. In the UK, before riding a motorbike on the road you simply have to pass a CBT (compulsory basic training) course, which most people complete in one day. This consists of learning the theory and practising on private land in the morning, then riding on the road in the afternoon. If everything goes smoothly, you pass.
We had spent the whole morning learning everything we needed to know and just had a few more turns to practise right before lunch. Up until that point, I'd been the best at picking things up quickly and clearly became complacent, even offering to go first for the last couple of turns. One by one, we did a tight right turn around a cone, but on doing my left turn I must've accidentally gripped the accelerator. As I was gaining speed I remember everything feeling like it was in slow-motion, but I couldn't figure out how to slow down. I then went up some stairs and into a metal railing jaw-first. Straight away, I tasted blood and my main concern was that I'd broken my teeth or jaw (which if I didn't have the full-face helmet, I would've), however after getting off the now-written-off bike and taking off my helmet I realised that that wasn't the case. I had a few bruises on my arms and legs but the main concern of the instructors was my wrist as they were scared that I'd chipped one of the bones.
We assumed that I'd take a breather and then join again after lunch, but my leg was starting to ache more and more, and what had been a small bump was now quite big. While I went to A&E with my dad, my brother simply continued the course as he hadn't seen the accident and clearly had other priorities.
Now don't get me wrong, I think that the NHS is an amazing concept and has the potential to be great, however there are many failings and my experience demonstrates one of them. I went to A&E at midday on a Thursday and there weren't many people there, however before seeing a doctor, a nurse spoke to each patient so that the doctors' time wouldn't be wasted. I explained what had happened to the nurse, showing her all of the bruises and she told me that I should go home and just rest my leg as there was nothing that a doctor could do.
About two months after the incident, I went to Madeira, Portugal, where my aunts insisted on taking me to a pharmacy as although the bruising elsewhere had worsened then subsided, the bump on my leg was still bruised and now hard. The pharmacist sent me to a doctor, and after an X-ray we learnt that the blood had accumulated in my leg and coagulated and that I might need surgery. I was put on a series of medicines to see whether they could liquify the blood so that the doctor could remove it with a syringe, which although not ideal, was better than surgery. My five weeks in Portugal consisted of several trips to the doctor, including two where the blood was removed under local anaesthetic (which both times wore off before he'd finished with the syringe). On returning to the UK, I had an MRI scan, which only lasted 30 minutes but in case you aren't aware of what happens, you're forced to stay still and listen to music while the (very loud) machine works its magic. The issue is that only a handful of songs are played on repeat, and if you don't like a song you have to just endure it for its full length since you can't move (Rolling in the Deep has never been the same since).
Thankfully, I didn't need surgery in the end, but I was told that if the nurse in the UK had allowed me to see the doctor, perhaps he'd have perhaps figured out that a blood vessel had burst and prevented all of the pain and treatment afterwards. Having discussed this with mates since, I'm surprised that the nurse didn't check for concussion either considering that I'd collided head-first into a metal railing.
Two years on, I still have a bruise and an indent in my leg but I can't say I'm terribly fussed about it and it provides an interesting story!
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