By Murray Williams
Cyclist Erick Oosthuizen lay in ICU.
He had 14 fractures, a paralysed arm, nine broken ribs, and was unable to breathe by himself.
The date: May 19, 2016.
Oosthuizen had been riding to work at the Cape Town Cycle Tour Trust, in Claremont, on his BMW motorcycle on that fateful morning, when he was hit by a car at an intersection.
“Three of my four limbs were broken,” recalled the super-fit father-of-three.
But worse than mere broken bones, his body became riddled with infection.
“I was in a bad state. After five operations, my body was in a downward spiral.
“The medication to heal the infection was not reaching every part of my body.
“They had to amputate my foot to save my life.”
For five long weeks, he remained in ICU.
His foot amputation was followed up by further amputation, removing still more of his leg, to prepare for a prosthetic.
But once in the general ward, secondary infections continued.
“It took months to heal properly … I was in hospital for 89 days.”
Back at home, his wife Elrine was carrying their family – their daughter, Leila, 4, and infant twins, Eden and Emily, just seven-weeks-old.
“We’ve had a whole community, looking after us, as a family. But words cannot describe what my wife meant to me. She's been phenomenal. She's been so strong. She had to be more than resilient … Just having to cope with two small babies, seven-weeks-old, a husband that's fighting for his life …
“And a four-year-old … at that stage believing that her father's dead - because she's not allowed to go see him. And the dad's too weak to send a voice note to the daughter to say he's still alive …”
But his wife not only cared for their traumatised family, she also gave her husband fierce hope, as a trained physiotherapist.
“The first day after the amputation, I told my wife: ‘That’s it – I’ll never be able to ride a bike again.’
“She told me: ‘It’s not true, My Love!’
“And being a physio, she had the facts to back it up with. She said: ‘You're going to live a very functional life.’
“Beyond the physical support, the fact that she believed in me: That was what I hung on to mostly … just the fact that my wife believes in me. If she believes in me, then it's possible,” Oosthuizen said.
On February 12, the next year, Oosthuizen was at a cycling track in Somerset West, watching his family ride. His amputated leg now bore a prosthetic limb, an Össur Veriflex, with a snug carbon socket against his stump.
Watching his family that day, he explained: “I haven't spoken about this. Therefore, I might sound a little bit emotional …Something kind of overwhelmed me. I decided to grab my father-in-law’s bike, and go for a bit of a loop … It’s kind of difficult to describe what it felt like. It felt flippin’ good!”
“Freedom! Very little pain, surprisingly. It felt quite easy, to be honest with you. I remember the first time we actually went on the road bikes, my wife also asked me, and I said it’s amazing, it's better than walking!”
Oosthuizen found the courage, and patience, and tenacity, and hope and belief. Does he have a message for anyone who's facing a challenge – who desperately needs just a glimmer of hope?
The resilient husband, father and cyclist replied: “I think you have to face the reality. You know people are angry, they shift the blame. I would like to shift the blame for my accident as well, in my situation. But the reality is still the reality and I think you have to first accept the reality of your situation, face it head-on. There’s no point in trying to wish it away.
“You're allowed to be angry. But at some stage you have to face the reality and accept it.”
Oosthuizen’s second piece of advice is: “What you are now is not a result, just of your circumstances now and of your accident or whatever challenges you might face. You are also a reflection of who you have been since birth. You have to see the bigger picture of who you are.
“I'm 46-years-old now. I was 40 when I had the accident. But, the last five years can’t define me, only. The first 40 years before the accident are also who I still am. I just look a little bit different, I walk a little bit different. The last five years just added to who I am.
“If I can use the analogy of a wheel of a bicycle, going up the hill - and if you take the valve as your situation: At some stage, the valve's going to be at the top of the wheel, meaning you're at a good point. You're having a good day. In my situation, I would have had a good day with my leg. There's no sores. The foot is good. I walk comfortably, I ride comfortably, I can do stuff with my kids.
“And then some days, the valve’s at the bottom, and you find yourself on crutches, you have a couple of sores. You're not allowed to wear the prosthetic, you can't help your kids, you can't carry them, you can't play with them, the way you used to. You’re full of plasters, you’re probably some pain medication.
"But the reality is that you've gone a couple wheel-lengths forward, up this hill. You’ve still progressed.
“So it's gonna come and go, you're going to go through these circles. People that have lost loved ones: It'll hurt – and it'll hurt a lot of times in the future. But every time it gets a little bit easier.”
Oosthuizen finished with a short story. “I used to race in Joburg on our tandem with my wife. We used to race in a team, and the opposition got a little bit upset with us, kind of just upsetting the pace-line, because we had someone in the break-away, going down the road.
“And one of our team members, with a very straight face, said to the guy next to him: ‘Just shut up and your ride your bike.’"
Today, it’s a phrase the Oosthuizens still use, when days are tough. “It's something that my wife and I say to each other, often - the words: ‘Just shut up and ride your bike.’
“If I can say that to people, you know: ‘Just face reality. Deal with it. Just shut up and ride your bike,’” Oosthuizen laughed gently, with a soft, encouraging smile.
Those words will fuel his ride in the Cape Town Cycle tour today.