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  • The last friday of August just after I left work, I crashed into another bicyclist. My helmet flew off before i hit the ground. Almost immediately, I felt with my hand that I got a bump in the head about the size of an orange. But confused as I was, I thought I was fine. I thought I would just sit there for a little while, and then be on my way home. "It's just a bump, no problem!" I shouted to the bystanders.

    Some german tourists made me get up, go to the sidewalk, and lay down. I started to phone home. While doing that, I passed out. When I woke up, there were more people around me. Upset. Taking my phone away from me.

    I convinced them to give it back to me, so I could call Emil and say "I'll be a little late, I fell with the bike, so start eating without me".

    The ambulance came. They put me in a collar. Someone had the job of holding my head still. Another had the job of standing over me, holding a blanket in the air, as a human-held tent, to shelter me from the rain.

    When the ambulance drove away with me, it was with the sirens on. This might be serious, I thought. So I texted Emil, and said that I was going to SöS, the hospital, to check it up. In case I would pass out again, they should know where I was.

    A trauma team took care of me. Put me on a spinal board. Cut off my clothes (I went home with a paper shirt on). Strapped the collar tighter. Replaced the person holding my head with something else, holding my head.

    Waited for MRI. Managed to convince a nurse to give me my phone. Had no use for it, with my arms strapped down and my head tied to the spinal board. I couldn't move it at all. Couldn't see any people, furniture, walls. Just the roof. Definitely not the display on my phone.

    Managed to take this snapshot while waiting for MRI, and after three hours of being tied up like this, I was released, and got a surprisingly good night's sleep at the hospital.

    When I woke up, at about five in the morning, I told a nurse I was ready to go home. She made me hot chocolate, a sandwich and told me to go back to sleep.

    Almost three weeks later, my head still hurts, I still get exhausted for nothing, can't handle stress and I panic when things are slamming or swishing or just loud. I don't enjoy music, because it hurts my head.

    But I will be fine, eventually. It's just that within the last year and a half, I've lost two unborn babys, a cat, a dog (who was my best friend), and been picked up by ambulance twice.

    Is there a moral to this? Or karma? Am I supposed to realize something? What? That everything dies? That I should be more humble? Or appreciate what I have got? And the final question: Is it over yet?
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