The toxic sweat from chemo causes a rash. Three days with no Lapatinib I seem to be sweating human sweat again.
Road rash are wounds received when you don't properly dress for pavement surfing. I've been a fool on skateboards, bicycles and motorcycles. The pain of having your flesh rapidly removed by friction is shocking. As the shock wears off you realize the extent of the damage as blood begins to flow. The entertainment continues days later when you discover all of the imbedded pebbles, glass and dirt that threaten infection. Wounds can be managed.
(Quotes include “That which does not kill me makes me stronger” Nietzsche…”or cripples you for life…”)
One of my first and more memorable experiences with road rash happened when I was a teenager. Brian and I thought it would be a great idea to combine running and skateboarding...Well maybe Brian just wanted to watch.
The idea was to run to the top of the lake Matthews
When we got to the top I hopped on my skateboard and started down the hill. The speed limit was 35 and I was passing cars! Curves were fun and intimidating but speed comes in the straight sections. I tucked down and really picked up momentum. Almost immediately the speed wobbles began. This adds challenge as the board rapidly oscillates left and right. I am not sure but it probably has something to do with the physics of urethane, heat and the wheel beginning to disintegrate but, I digress. The board stabilized as the speed picked up …bitchin’
DA Rock! I saw it too late to avoid it. The front right wheel impacted and I was tumbling. Head over heels…take two steps…tumble…take two steps…tumble. For an eternity I was in this weird cycle. I was able to kick my skateboard off the road before I took one final roll and came to a crumpled mess.
I acted like that did not hurt. I was properly dressed for nineteen seventies running, a fashion disaster. Thin nylon running shorts, shoes and sunglasses made me look like an idiot and did very little to protect my skin.
At home tending to my wounds I discovered new strawberries for a few days. Missing flesh on my elbows, shoulders, knees, knuckles and head made sense. My shorts were not torn but I had flesh removed from my hips. During the short time I was cart wheeling down the side of the road I was able to place many parts of my body in contact with the ground.
It took some time to recover. I don't remember how my parents took it. I do remember wearing my crash helmet the next time I tried downhill speed trails. Long sleeves, gloves, and jeans became the uniform for planned lunacy. Not to say I could not be talked into almost anything for spur of the moment excitement but I learned a lot on how to plan extreme activities. Much later I got access to skateboards that were specifically designed for downhill. It was a different experience: more fun, faster speeds and less overt hazards.
Brian was a great friend. We moved at least three more times before I graduated high school and I lost track of him. I am sure he was the voice of reason and tried to talk me out of it. But once I committed he assisted me by carried my skateboard up the hill on his bike. As a witness to the glory of speed and the agony of defeat he was able to harass me for months. He helped me pick up the pieces and go home. I don’t recall ever talking him into TOO much trouble. That is because he was smarter than me and had much more common sense.
It is said that the Lord protects drunks and fools…and sometimes I have been doubly insured. He was smiling on me that day. Thank God I am alive!
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