On June 2, right before the conference started, I fell off the bike for seemingly no reason. It was very close to home. I was returning from my morning ride, and I was just a couple of blocks away from home when all of a sudden my bike jumped, the front wheel took a sharp turn right, and I fell off really badly, breaking half of my nails and getting a bruise and a scratch on my temple; fortunately, small enough not to be seen unless someone would seat very close to me on my right side. I was telling everyone it was a perfect fall because I still looked presentable, even though I didn’t like how badly I’d been hurt. The scratch healed, and the nails were repaired, but unfortunately, that was not it.

Several times afterward, I felt my bike jump at approximately the same spot, and I still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the road there. Then, last Tuesday, it happened again – I fell really badly at the same spot. Once again, I could not figure out why – I didn’t see anything dangerous on the road. Once again, the helmet protected my head; however, I landed on my right hand knuckles, and the hand quickly became swollen and painful.

Still, there was nothing for me to do except go to work, because it was too early to get to any doctor’s office, and I still could move my fingers and type. And I had six meetings on that day :). I had high-dose ibuprofen tablets in my bag (I always have them since the times my back pain could appear out of nowhere), so I took one in the morning and one in the evening, and that reduced the inflammation a bit, but it was still painful, and I could not lift anything with my right hand, and couldn’t even open the door, which made my life in the office quite challenging (not like it would be better at home). In the morning, the hand was neither worse nor better. Since my workday starts way earlier than the doctor’s workday, I decided to go to the office and start calling from there. The doctor’s office picked up the phone at 8:15. They said my doctor was not in the office (which I already knew) and that there was nobody to see me that day at the Evanston office, so they suggested going to the Lincolnwood office. I had no other choice because I didn’t want to drag out the uncertainty any longer (and I also suspected that my children would give me a hard time if I didn’t go). After my morning meetings, I got into Uber and went to Lincolnwood. A nurse practitioner saw me and said that “just in case,” I should do an X-ray. Guess what? This facility doesn’t have. X-ray, so they were sending me back to Evanston! I called to check the hours; they were open, and I didn’t need an appointment.

One more Uber ride. Two reception desks. One line after, just to be checked in. Then I finally walked to the lab, which had zero people in line, and got my X-ray done. But if you think that was it, it was not. I was told that a radiologist would take a look “later on that day.” Good thing it was actually “that day,” not in the middle of the night! Turned out, I didn’t have a fracture after all.

You can say all well that ends well, but this whole ordeal cost me three hours of life and $100 total Uber fees, and I still don’t understand why I had to go to Lincolwood to get an “OK” for X-ray!!!

Also, I counted the number of healthcare workers with whom I interacted on this day, including receptionists and information desks – ten!