Not Pretty.

I got home from work the day after the accident, sore but otherwise semi-mobile. Staying in one position (like in a chair or on a bed) is fine, with just a dull ache to remind me. Changing positions makes things interesting for the affected limb. Standing up is not fun, as reminders of all of the injuries come flooding back at once. It always brings forth a moan and a grunt as I transition. Sometimes I cry. The first dozen or so steps are the worst, and then the body realizes I'm committed and gets with the program. For brief moments I can almost fake a normal walk. So far it's getting better, although people keep warning me the worst is yet to come.
 
As I removed my uniform (slowly), I recoiled in horror. Blood had pooled around my pelvis and other spots in most unattractive ways. I don't usually bruise, and this went far beyond bruising. It didn't hurt, but it scared the hell out of me. I called my wife, who took one look and said flatly, "I guess we're going back to the ER."
 
So, for the second night straight, a strange woman looked at parts of my body only my wife sees. I got injected with something that added contrast to my CT scan and made me feel like I peed my hospital gown. They ran tests and took specimens and poked and prodded.
 
Eventually they told me not to sweat it. This was supposedly normal for this kind of injury, and would go away within a couple weeks as the body reabsorbed and redistributed the fluids. Until then I would be misshapen and discolored.
 
It took a little while for that to sink in. A lot of the swelling is in places that might be affected by activities like... I don't know... riding a bike.
 
Fuck.
 
The Tour is out. Racing for the rest of the season is likely out. I hope I can get back on the road before the snow falls.
 
The aches and pains will fade. The swelling will go down. Eventually I'll get back to some semblance of normal. Hopefully I can keep the weight gain to a minimum.
 
When I screw up, I don't mess around.