Auckland councillor Julie Fairey reflects on the stress – both personal and communal – that preventable road accidents cause.
Almost two weeks ago I was hit by a car while biking to work. As an advocate for road safety I can see the irony of becoming part of the statistics myself, watching the many personal and system impacts of an accident in the unforgiving road environment I’ve been working with others to improve.
I spend a lot of time in council meetings trying to close the caring gap; the deep chasm between the genuine concern of elected members and AT leaders about specific individual people being hurt vs the very obvious actions we need to take to lessen the risk and harm. I will keep talking to them all about this, now with very personal anecdotes, to try to build that vital bridge across.
Talking is a key part of my day job as an elected councillor and I have a tendency to talk to other road users as I bike around. I say “Thank you for the space”, “Oh you do have indicators after all”, and, most often, “Do you see me?” Of course drivers can’t hear me, they are in their metal boxes, as am I when I drive, and often I follow up “Do you see me?” with “Yes you can, good job”.
But about 7.45am on Wednesday June 25 my casual “Do you see me?” quickly turned into a frantic “Can you see me?” Next came a large amount of swearing my father would not have approved of as I realised collision was inevitable. Then a bang and I was flying through the air.
People keep asking me if it was terrifying and it kind of was but mostly it was unbelievable. As the silver car bonnet came closer, time really did seem to slow. I was waiting for the driver to see me and correct, assuming of course they would and we would have a close call. Even lying on the ground, the phrase I was repeating over and over was “what the fuck”. Such a boring driver error – cutting a corner in a rush to get a kid to school – and yet the impact for me is huge.
I have an upper tibia (shin bone) plateau fracture and I cannot walk for at least six weeks. My leg is locked straight in a brace and I must not bend my knee. This is a lot more awkward and unwieldy than it reads. So far I don’t need surgery, but it’s still a possibility to put a plate in my leg. I’m incredibly lucky not to be more seriously hurt. Had the driver been going faster I might not be writing this.
Nevertheless, I can’t carry anything beyond what I can fit and balance in pockets, which means I need people at home to get me anything I don’t have to hand already (like the laptop I’m writing this on).
Critically, this includes food. I can’t put a meal in a pocket or a bag and hang it off my walking frame. I can’t stand at a bench balanced on one leg for long enough to brush my teeth for a full two minutes, let alone cook or prepare a sandwich. I can’t heat a meal in the microwave and carry it to a seat nearby. And I can’t go out because going up and down our stairs is perilous, even with help.
It’s exhausting to have to ask others to do simple everyday things for me. It’s draining and challenging to put into words for others things that normally I don’t even need to think through properly. Try it for yourself next time you need to get something off a shelf in another room; what does it look like, which room, which shelf, is it at the front or behind some things. You can do that in your head a lot faster and more simply than you can do it out loud.
Beyond my body and my life, this accident has called on the resources of passersby who helped, our transport network, police, ambulance, the broader public health and ACC systems, workmates, and my family and friends.
I’ve had multiple assessments, x-rays and a CT scan, two nights in hospital and all the drugs and care that went with those (not much food though, I was mostly nil by mouth in case of surgery). There’s equipment to help me heal and cope including a zimmer frame and crutches. I have special seats for the toilet (which I can mercifully use by myself but can’t close the door), and the shower (which I torturously cannot use by myself at all). ACC is sending me a grabber tool, as I can’t pick things up off the ground, and are thinking about how to support me at home once my teens go back to school next week. I’ve got multiple orthopaedic and physio appointments ahead of me.
As I lay on the ground swearing, this accident stopped two major bus routes waiting for police and ambulance to arrive, creating delays for road users across local streets, adding to the dozens of small accidents across the city that contribute to congestion, hike insurance premiums and of course cause other injuries and trauma. These incidents are also awful to watch, to cause, and to clean up.
While I recover I can’t do my councillor job as well as I try to. My capacity for thinking work is limited, and I can’t run councillor clinics or do site visits to talk to folks face to face. I won’t count for quorum at committee meetings because I’m not there at the start in person.
All this from a simple crash on the way to work that didn’t need to happen. The faster you go the bigger the mess is simple physics, and I’ve experienced it firsthand.
