We've heard plenty of stories about other people's bicycling accidents since Cheryl's tumble was spotlighted in last Sunday's column. It's an age-old story, apparently: Have bike, will fall.

My cousin Judy told of riding behind her husband on a particularly treacherous trail when she fell into a ravine. "He didn't notice and biked home without me," she said. "I struggled up the ravine and rode home and on arrival he said, 'Where did you go?'"

For obvious reasons, this man is no longer her husband.

Judy also told of a friend who tried to brake while taking a swig of water and "went ass over tea kettle, as they say," breaking bones in her elbow.

"As they say"? This must be a quaint New Englandism.

My old college chum Bob, a real cycling fanatic, wondered if Cheryl was wearing a properly fitting helmet. Bad-fitting helmets don't do the job, he said.

Good observation, Bob. Cheryl's helmet did have a squishy fit. During the crash, it may have slipped back, exposing Cheryl's forehead as it plunged toward the pavement.

Before we mount up again, we're planning to glue plenty of those puffy dots into her helmet, making it fit as snug as a beetle's shell.

Our ER experience struck a nerve with readers. "I too was bleeding and dripping blood everywhere and I too could not believe how low I was on the ER priority ladder," Jim Farrell, a Napa cyclist, wrote.

Jim described having his face scrubbed with a stiff bristle brush by an RN trainee trying to remove asphalt from his wound. The pain was worse than the accident, he said.

This comment resonated with Cheryl, who left the ER with chin and elbow wounds still contaminated with road debris. After two weeks of soakings and plucking out tiny rocks with a tweezer, these lesser wounds still have junk in them.

Suzi Albertson, the motorist who rescued us at the crash site, has stayed in touch through e-mail, giving condolences and perspective to our experience.

On the day of the accident, Suzi said she was driving up Partrick "feeling very sorry for myself." Her mother had died several weeks before. She had spent the afternoon visiting with her father who has Alzheimer's.

"I'm so glad I was able to help someone else and get my mind off my own problems," Suzi said.

Suzi's adversities had the same effect on us. It was a relief to think about her problems for a moment and not our own.

As someone who has spent many, many hours with family members at the ER, Suzi said it is dispiriting how long the wait for treatment can be. Still, she praised staff's ability to sort out who must be treated first.

"It's frustrating, but if you had a stab wound you'd want them to work on you before the bicycle accident," Suzi said. "Getting the warm blankets is really their way of letting you know that the staff cares about you and will get to you as soon as humanly possible."

I heard from Rhys Cruz. While Cheryl and I were in the ER, he and his wife Debbie were in an adjacent room. Their story echoed Suzi's about ER priorities.

They had been told to get to the ER pronto after Debbie experienced trouble breathing. She was diagnosed as having pneumonia and a possible minor heart attack and ended up spending eight days in the hospital, he said.

Their situation had been life-threatening. Ours had only involved pain and suffering and that scary fluid that should never see the light of day: blood.

More than one person has observed that faces bleed like crazy. Because of all that red stuff, facial injuries often appear much worse than they are.

This observation may be true, but it doesn't begin to take into account the importance of faces to our sense of self and how we present to the world. Knees rubbed raw are one thing, the same injury to the face quite another.

Cheryl's anguish was so much greater because her face received so much of the trauma. It's not just a female thing, but in part it is.

The plastic surgeon reassured her that her facial injuries would heal just fine, although it might take a while. His words were comforting ... to a point.

Ten days after the accident, Cheryl came home with a new hair style. She now combs her hair in such a way that it largely obscures the injury to her forehead.

It looks very nice, I said. Her need for this aesthetic trick touched me.

Cheryl remains acutely sensitive about how she presents. When she checked out of Trader Joe's the other day, she swore that the clerks were staring at her forehead.

I doubt it, I said. Those were ordinary looks. Do you really think anyone is looking at your bandage?

Of course they are, she said.

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register, P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com