I have a suspiciously odd life—suspect for those who have to deal with me, just fucking life for me. As my tenure at VICE was coming to a close, on July 4, my second to last day I got into an absurd bike accident where, after people help me up—start to bicker over who’s at fault. While I’m only able to limp and have wounds causing certain amount of blood.
They apparently know it’s nothing “see your able to walk” one guy says. I think to myself “this is not worth my time, I might have a broken leg” I try to limp over to my bike and as I’m about to storm out, suddenly their humanity kicks in as one guy says “at least let us drop you home”, all the while the fucker who almost made me a statistic winged about the broken glass from his backseat window.
While I was at the spot, I didn’t have the foresight to think on my feet and note down a number or take a photo of the plate or the guy because I was literally limping and being shouted at by this fuckwit about how it was my fault as soon as my bike was lifted off of me.
After I managed to reach my apartment which was thankfully nearby, I limped up the stairs ripped my bloody pants off to ascertain the damage and took a quick shower while my arms were tremoring. Drank some water and grabbed a pain pill, while looking for relevant things to clean my wounds.
I finally caught a glimpse of my right foot which was very swollen and so kicked in the fight or flight—I booked a cab, hobbled over to the cab to Artemis Hospitals in Dwarka as it was the closest one to my house, turns out it had shut down.
So, I went to Venkateshwar Hospital, where a cost of an x-ray is 600 rupees per appendage and an ER visit costs you 900 rupees, besides the point but still it felt like a price gouge considering one of the staffers was just chilling on a chair just playing games and browsing WhatsApp snickering to himself, unsure if he was a doctor or not but still it was a jarring image considering people are literally going through some shit in the ER.
An orderly who was taking me to x-ray room started to make small talk about my incident, told me about the man who was being wheeled around from a trauma room to get a CT scan, she said “he got into an accident around the same area as you.” I guess I saw a glimpse of what could’ve been me.
I felt an uneasy sensation in my body as I sat waiting for the x-ray technician to come through with the results—overthinking what could’ve happened to me, the what ifs, and how people reacted, instead of contacting the police or ambulance they just dicked around and fixated on the blame game. Instead of offering help to take me to the hospital they offered to drop me home. Finally the x-ray was done and I was quietly wheeled back to a bed as I waited for the results.
I’ve had an bad relationship with hospitals and some preconception about them and doctors in general, which are hard to overcome still. I try to avoid them if I can, which is a near impossibility in our country.
Then a cop shows up as I had told the hospital about the accident and they by law have to inform the cops. He asked me to explain what had happened, just a moment ago I was told nothing was broken—I was both distressed and relieved at the same time with the news. It was an emotionally tangled moment for me and hence the tears rolled down my cheeks— as he asked me the obvious “did you get a number or name or a license plate.” I said no, he asked me if I wished to follow up on this legally, I said “no as there was no point. It would’ve been his word against mine.”
He asked me if I could write it down as he gave me a pen and paper, I wrote what I wrote, relinquishing any need for investigation in the matter. He offers to drop me to my home but starts to weasel out when he asks the staff how long it would take for discharge, looking at his face I state “I’ll just take a cab back.” He gave me his number to call if needed and left.
THE DRIVE BACK
Finally, I end up getting into a cab back home—talking to my family, explaining what had happened considering they don’t live in the same city, I thought I should let them know, they offer to come here to help, I said there is no point if it’s just swelling, it will eventually go down, they concede. I finally limped back to my room eat a large bowl of muesli and an apple at 11:30 pm and passed out after taking my prescribed medication and just ponder how many times I had to recall that incident. Posting this will probably make it easier for me to recall and explain some of it.
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