CRASH

So things went a little crazy this week.  Monday was the moving day of amazingness.  Laura was over in the morning with Grace and in the afternoon 3 men from my church showed up and basically inhaled my apartment.  There’s no other way to describe the pace at which everything I own was packed up and loaded into the vehicles.  Just about everything I own fit into 2 vans, a trailer and my car.  Which I’m not surprised about.  But it all went so fast!  Into boxes, out to curb, into vehicle.  Within 4 hours everything was unloaded at the parsonage and the basement.  I’m storing things at the parsonage and living in the basement.  A basement which is bigger than my last apartment!  I don’t have a bathroom down here, but I’ve got a little fridge and my coffee maker.  Enough for a short stint here.

The week took a turn for the worst on Tuesday.  I had stopped by my new job at the college to fill out employment forms.  I needed a copy of my birth certificate, so I called my dad and he said he’d send it.  I called Megan for a few minutes as well.  We hung up around 11:20 am.  I was stopped at a red light waiting to turn left.  I was looking down and when I looked back up the light was green.  So I checked the intersection and started to pull out.  Out of the corner of my eye to my left I saw something moving very fast.  My first reaction was thinking it was a train and it was moving really fast!  But then it registered that it was a pick-up truck.  And he wasn’t stopping.  I hit my brakes and screamed as the sickening crunch of glass and metal filled the air.  The truck caught the front of my car, pulling me slightly before careening into another vehicle stopped at the light.  The truck caught her passenger front side and spun her 90 degrees towards the curb.  Then, the truck went up over the side of the curb and kept going into the parking lot, bumping another curb before rolling to a stop.  Every time I have to tell this story, all I can hear is my screaming.  My throat is still sore days later.  Shaking and crying, I tested my car to see if she could move.  I didn’t really want to stay sitting in the middle of the intersection if I could get it out of the way.  She seemed okay, so I pulled into the parking lot and an open parking space.  I climbed gingerly from the car and headed towards the second car he hit.  The driver was an older woman in her 70s, but she was awake and talking with the woman from the car behind her.  They already had a cell phone out and another girl approached me asking if she was alright.  As soon as I saw someone else was with the other driver, I burst into tears and started shaking uncontrollably.

I’ve always wondered what I would see should my "life flash before my eyes."  I’ve always wondered what it would feel like in that moment.  Well, now I sort of know.  My life didn’t flash just before the truck hit me, but it started after it was said and done.  Someone else was calling 911, and the other driver was okay and I was okay, and then my life started flashing.  All my hard work, all my struggles.  If I hadn’t seen him, or had seen him half a second later, my car would have been T-boned and I would not be walking.  There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever.  One of the cops said they think he was going around 55 or 60 mph when he hit my car.  The only damage is one turn signal light and my bumper has been scraped completely off.  Its like his truck kissed the front of my car.  My license plate is ripped off, but thats okay.  Nothing else was destroyed on my car.  And I was walking and alive.  But one foot further and I probably wouldn’t be walking.  Two feet further and I probably would have died.  I was happy for the first time in a long time.  I mean, really really happy.  And here this truck comes along and nearly takes my life.  People, places, events all flashed before my eyes as I just kneeled on the ground and cried.

The guy behind me, Omer, had seen the whole thing happen.  He had pulled into the parking lot behind me and was talking with the 911 dispatcher.  He started talking to me and calmed me down a bit.  When the driver of the truck finally came over, he started accusing me of running the red light.  He swore that his light was green and I had caused this all.  I couldn’t stop crying or shaking and finally Omer stepped between us and somehow got the guy to go away.  He came back over to me and said he saw the whole thing and it wasn’t my fault.  Our light was definitely green.  He patted my shoulder and when the fire police and paramedics arrived, he made sure one of them came over to check on me.  I don’t know how, but he got my license plate out of the street and back to me.  He gave a statement to the police, but also gave me his phone number in case anything else came up.  He kept telling me things would be alright and that it wasn’t my fault.  I must have looked like an idiot.  I really was fine, and my car was driveable and I wasn’t at fault.  But I kept seeing…. I keep seeing…. that truck barreling down on my car.  Hearing the crunch of glass, metal and plastic.  Hearing someone screaming.  Me.

The paramedic said I was just in shock, which is why my heart wouldn’t stop racing.  She checked vitals and said I seemed okay, but could go to the hospital if I wanted.  I don’t have health insurance right now, so I decided to go and just get checked out at least.  The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins and once it wore off I’d start to feel the pain.  I didn’t know if something was broken or sprained.  I remember my first accident, and how the pain slowly built up and became nearly unbearable.  So I decided to go to the hospital.  I called my aunt at work and tried to stay calm enough to tell her what had happened.  I didn’t have my uncle’s work number.  She called him and he met me at the hospital.  When he walked into that room, I burst into tears all over again.  I’d never been so happy to see a familiar face.

He held my hand and waited in the ER with me.  The pain had kicked in during the ambulance ride.  It was the same shoulder and elbow as my first accident.  The added bonus is that my ribs on that side were also sore.  The paramedic checked my ribs, but I wasn’t having problems breathing so he said they were probably just bruised.  The doctors listened to my check in the ER and agreed.  The one doctor told me something interesting though.  He said that even though the ribs weren’t broken, the bruising would still be painful, especially when breathing.  He said patients will then refrain from taking deep breaths because it hurts too much.  Their constant shallow breathing can cause infection in the bottom of the lungs.  So lots of deep breaths.  I told him with playing oboe I didn’t have a problem with that.  They did X-Rays of my shoulder and elbow, but nothing was broken.  You know, in my entire life, I’ve never broken a bone.  I’ve twisted my ankle more times than I care to remember, but it never broke.  I’ve fallen off my bike, but never broke a bone.  I don’t know how I’ve done it, but I’ve managed.

They diagnosed me with a lightly strained elbow and shoulder with bruised ribs.  Gave me some Motrin and off I went.  I still have Vicodin and other such heavy duty pain meds left over from the last accident.  I suffered a lot of pain even years after that crash, so I still have pain meds for when it gets bad.  Nighttime and morning seem to be the worse.  I think in the morning I’m really stiff and at night I become sore.  I still had to finish moving and setting up my space downstairs.  But I’m alive.  My car (and I) are drivable, so I really don’t have much to complain about.

I told my mom the other day that while the physical damage of this accident isn’t nearly as bad, the psychological damage seems worse.  I still kinda flash back to the moment of impact.  I can hear the crunch of things breaking and I hear someone screaming.  It could have been so much worse, and as that truck barreled toward me I really thought it would be.

Okay, and now my ribs and shoulder are really hurting, so its time for pain pills.  And to stop crying.