I Love My Motorcycle. And My Spleen.

I Love My Motorcycle. And My Spleen.

Motorcycling is much more than just a thing I like doing. That simply doesn’t do my feelings about it justice. Even saying it’s a lifestyle doesn’t seem right. Its tributaries spider throughout my life like veins, carrying curiosity, joy, excitement, and passion away from my heart to far beyond the reach of my extremities.

When you don’t ride your motorcycle by choice, the time away feels entirely different when compared to not riding your motorcycle because you can’t (or shouldn’t). Can’t feels like a loss, something removed from you by force. I, like many people, hate the feeling of being pushed to do something against my will. Even if it is in my best interest.

This past week, I wavered heavily over just saying, “fuck it,” and going for a little ride. The devil on my shoulder asked – “what’s the worst that could happen?” I was gently reminded that the nice answer to that is “a hernia.”

A hernia. That’s just what I need. Say the word “hernia” out loud. It sounds moist, odorous, and plump. In other words… gross. So, common sense prevailed and I parked my lazy ass on the couch and rested instead. Again. Frankly, it’s getting old.

This week marks a month ago that I had my surgery. Since I came home from the hospital, I haven’t taken a single prescribed pain pill. Sure, I’ve been uncomfortable, but not in any real pain. I’d call that a win.

But, I do have an ugly pink smile across my belly and if I don’t wear some type of compression garment, it feels like my insides are going to spill out everywhere. Can you even comprehend the embarrassment of having to pick your own organs up from the floor of the frozen food aisle?

[picks up spleen, blows the fuzz off, pulls off a stray hair, puts it in purse to shove back in abdomen later]

So instead of riding pants, I’ve been wearing all manner of Under Armor for the last couple weeks. While I, of course, look dead sexy each day in my super snug pants (I don’t), I’d much rather be looking like an amorphous blob zipping along on my moto.

Is it a bad thing that an activity like motorcycling becomes such an integral part of your person? When it leaves you, even if temporarily, it feels like something is missing from your universe. It’s like standing at a party where you don’t know anyone and you fidget around not knowing what to do with your hands.

9 Replies to “I Love My Motorcycle. And My Spleen.”

  1. If you followed my blog, you know that from the end of September 2018 to April of 2019 I did ride my motorcycle because it was on the lift. While to most people, that might have been considered the winter months and not conducive to riding anyway, to me, if there are dry roads and sun, I ride.
    It killed me not being able to ride my bike. Six months!! It was killing me!! I don’t own a second bike, so I was S.O.L.
    Not able to ride is: I’m working, I’m on a plane, I need my car today because , I’m in New Jersey and it is still raining, I can’t find my bike….
    Can’t Ride: Bike broke, bike stolen, bike wrecked, I don’t have a bike, I had surgery and shouldn’t lift a pencil.
    In both of those scenarios, either plays havoc with one’s sense of well-being and ability to withstand the urge to punch someone square in the face.
    I need to ride.

  2. While you sleep has your left hand been pulling an air clutch? How about the left foot? Shifting gears yet in your sleep? Joking aside – take care of yourself so you CAN get back on.

  3. Back in 2010, I had surgery for colon cancer but only had to avoid riding for a month. At that point, I wasn’t allowed to lift anything (no dropping the bike) for the same reason. I went on several rides with friends who were willing to pick up the bike. It wasn’t until three months later that I rode by myself again. Borrow a Ural. Not the same thing but they are hard to drop 😉

  4. Fuzzy, I didn’t know about your surgery. Sorry to hear. Hope the recovery continues. I’m also wrestling with a health issue so I understand the prominence it can take in our life.

    When I don’t ride for a while, I forget how much fun riding is. Then I get back on the bike and go, “Oh!”

    Also, I get the bit about how integrated riding can be to us; I realized that the first time I went to a cemetery to pay respects to a deceased person and cruised through the place on my motorcycle. Another eureka moment.

  5. Your observations about riding and not riding are parallel to how I react to circumstance dumped upon me. I don’t think it a bad thing to have riding become an integral part of our existence, life, etc. I tend to think of it as a meditative act. Riding allows me to embrace the angels and devils in my head and make some sense of the war that continually happens in my mind. Riding is a mediator, mentor, master and friend. I’ll stop here before the analogies become religious.

    I hope your recovery goes well and you have no secondary issues. Regarding pain pills and victory. Best be careful. Most doctors agree that toughing out pain for long periods is not a good thing. The brain can establish pain pathways that become expected and may never ease. Pain medication can help that from happening. Where the line is for too much and not enough is blurry. A neurosurgeon provided an example I could absolutely relate to with a burn example. When I burn a finger I’ve learned to immediately place that appendage in ice water for 10 to 15 minutes. This will eliminate any pain from the burn because my brain isn’t getting the signal. Just cold. When I don’t do this I have a nagging pain for days. Pain meds are the ice water. Enough from Dr. Steve.

    Anyways, sorry to hear you’re suffering. Keep playing the old memories of rides until you can make some new ones.

    Onward!

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