The Instant

I was in a car accident on March 21 2015.  I walked away from it.  I don’t know if it was luck, a watchful eye, a bit of both, destiny, fate, or what-have-you.  I just know if I had been hit instants earlier, the outcome could have been very different.

Before heading home, my previous stop was a Chinese Restaurant, picking up dinner.  Prior to that, I picked up the car from the shop – it was due for some maintenance.  I met Trex that morning to drop off the car then drive us home.  We left a little earlier than she tends to for her shift just to make that pit stop, pay for the services, and drive home while she went onward to work.  With dinner in the seat behind me, I head home.  I get on the highway, merge over because I’ll need to turn eventually and its best to just get in that lane now.

I saw the other car coming right at me.  Something in my peripheral is why I glanced at that part of the median in the road, and I’m thankful I did.  I saw the car coming, not slowing, going around another car already there waiting to merge into the oncoming and I remember thinking, ‘What are you doing?! Don’t you see me !?!’  I must have knew instinctively there was nothing I could do to get out of the way, but I tried anyway.  I doubt I had pulled the steering wheel to my right to start an avoidance maneuver when the other car made impact.  I doubt even more that there was time to have even gotten out of the lane.  By the time I registered the car wasn’t slowing and I needed to try and not get hit, I heard the bwuwhomk, screeching tires of slammed brakes, and felt the throbbing in my head.  I see that I was facing oncoming traffic that was thankfully blocked by the car that struck me.  I fumbled for my phone, have to call 911.  I remember looking down, am I OK? as I try to get my fingers around my phone, get to the keypad to dial. There’s someone asking me if I’m OK outside my window and I am angry.  I yell, or seem to yell I’M FINE because this shouldn’t have happened, they went around a car that was waiting in the median to merge into oncoming traffic.  I see blue lights just as I finally bring up the keypad to dial 911 so I cancel the call.  I take stock, try to take my keys out but they won’t budge.  I step out, move to the curb of the median, but not before seeing the rear door and a hole where glass used to be.  The person asks me if I’m alright.  My head hurts, I’m shaky, but I’m not dizzy, I’m not bleeding (from what I could see), I’m not vomiting or on the precipice of doing so.  So, I’m fine..right?  They tell me they’re EMS, the party that hit me.  That’s supposed to make me feel better.  Except that just makes me angrier.  They should know better.  An officer was in traffic so they respond even though we’re not in their jurisdiction.  They ask if everyone is OK, if anyone needs EMS, and call it in.  I manage to call home, let them know I’ve been hit, I’m OK, and I’m going to be a while.  They offer to come to the scene and I tell them no need, not right now, but I’ll call and let them know.  I call Trex, let her know and after I tell her I hit my head, she insists that I get checked out – she’s seen/known too many that thought they were OK only to not be days later.  So I tell the officer that and they tell me they’re on their way.  And Trex’s insistence couples with my building worries about that I may need to stay up all night, make sure I don’t have a concussion or get nauseous, or worry if I’m sleepy from fatigue, or something else.  Better safe than sorry.  I shouldn’t be thinking of the bills that could come my way.  My information is taken, and as I’m loaded into the bus, it doesn’t dawn on me that the officer still has my license and registration.  I was able to get my keys, but only after one of the EMS responders points out my car isn’t in park, it’s not going to release my keys.  Didn’t dawn on me.  I call R2 and Trex to tell them which hospital I’m being taken to, they’re on their way.

I’m supposed to lay down I think, but I can’t.  Doesn’t feel right.  I seem to stare at the mimic indicators above the back doors.  They light up when the bus stops, or has an indicator on.  The EMS back there with me asks my information.  Asks some questions about pain levels and what I’m feeling.  Then asks me cognitive ones and for a moment, even though I know where I am, what year it is and who our sitting president is, I have test anxiety that has me hesitate for an instant before I answer.  Ridiculous.  I want to blame the adrenaline.  I might be able to.

I’m wheeled into the ER and it’s a surreal experience.  My head aches more, and I feel pressure behind my left eye.  I must have recited my information five times that night.  They get me hooked up, ask questions, have me take my shirt off and wear a gown, but I get to keep my pants on.  Trust me, that’s important to me.  The doc comes to examine me.  I tell him I don’t know what I hit- the glass, the bit that anchors the seatbelt, but I hit something.  I’m positive I didn’t lose consciousness but it happened so fast all I remember is the sound of the impact, screeching tires, pain, and seeing that I spun due to the impact.  They give me a prescription, a print out with some data on what symptoms merit being seen again, said that I could expect some traumatic stress for about three weeks and that I should consider treatment if it goes beyond that.  I take solace in that I already have a regular checkup on the books with my doc in a couple days.  I have to be watched that night, make sure I’m rouseable, just in case.  Trex and R2 come in and ask me how I am.  They ask me what happened.  Trex is stoic and calm looking, but there’s no mistaking the fury that gently radiates from her.  She saw the car on her way there.  She saw that there was a silver of frame that separated my door from the one behind me.  Inches from a headlight that wasn’t my own.  R2 is concerned and there’s an apology about him because he’d rather it be any other reason he’s helping out.  While waiting for the doc, I found myself near tears and I’m not sure why, a little alarmed I may have momentarily fell into a harmful habit of compartmentalizing.  They give me a first dose of meds, my script, then I’m discharged.  Trex has to go back to work, but R2 will check in on me during the night.  We find a pharmacy still open at 7pm.  We also stop and get dinner, since the first go didn’t pan out.  I can’t drive while taking the meds they gave me to treat my injuries.  When the ER asked for a photo ID, I go for my wallet and that’s when I realize the police still have it.  So I have to arrange to get them back, without driving.  I’m discharged by the time the officer that worked the incident came to see me and ask me what happened.  I miss their call, call them back, have to leave a message, then my phone dies- outside the place where I picked up dinner earlier that night.  R2 remarked that this may be inviting more calamity if there’s nothing to the whole ‘lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice,’ adage.  It’s a little levity that’s welcomed because I’m still angry, but I’m even more annoyed at the situation.  He’s instantly sorry for alluding to it, but I tell him it’s OK.  I already know I won’t be able to work the coming week.  Even if I have a day to recuperate.  I’m hoping like hell my muscles don’t tighten and stiffen to the point that I have to move my whole body just to turn my head.

I call into work and let them know that I can’t come into the office- they tell me to rest as much as I need to, not to worry about work.  Except that I do because it is a distraction.  So I try to work, and I’m able for a bit.  Then the meds kick in and I take a nap whether I want to or not.  I also need to make sure there aren’t any new symptoms  and that I don’t isolate movements to the point that the muscles stiffen.  I can move my neck, but I’m still very sore.  And I’m still very annoyed.  I’ve talked and communicated with my insurance, their insurance, the towing company, the police department, and a partridge in a pear tree.  Their insurance asks for information that I’m not convinced they need.  Trex offered to take me to my doctor’s appointment, and to the PD so I can get my documents back.  So did R2.  I tell my doc what happened, show her the meds and they make sure nothing is worse.  I don’t feel worse.  I don’t have any new symptoms up to that point.  So that’s promising.  Just sore.

More forms, more questions, more wondering and learning some HR things I did not know.  And would have liked to have learned via a different catalyst to be honest.

At some points, I keep seeing the car coming at me.  It’s followed by a coldness that crawls over my skin when I think about how much worse it could have been.  I could have been hit by oncoming traffic after being pushed out of my lane, involving more people.  I could have been hit directly in the driver seat and who knows how bad that could have been.  I try to not get angry, but I see the other passenger in the car that hit me and they’re a child.  It could have been so much worse for a lot of people that evening.  And for what?  I suspect it was because the car waiting in the median wasn’t pulling out when the driver that ultimately ended up hitting me, wanted them to.  I can’t think of any other reason why they would go around them.  From the police report it looks like the officer agrees and cites them for aggressive driving (which I didn’t know could be a citation) and failure to yield.  The driver of the car waiting in the medium ended up being a witness and from what I understand, was not hit or injured.  Though it may not be too much of stretch that they perhaps get a bit jilty when they’re passed.

I’ve driven past the point of impact a few times.  I’m keenly aware of how hyper-vigilant I am, and I’ve noticed that I’m that way when there is a break in a median.  The print out let me know that that’s likely something that will happen for about three weeks.  I kind of expected it.  I tend to notice when someone is filling my rear-view mirror too fast for my comfort after being rear-ended years ago.   So I wasn’t surprised about being sensitive to seeing cars that seem to come at me (there are some weird, lighted, intersections in town).

Today I get notice that after taking my car to the shop to get a better look at the damage, the initial estimate was off.  To the point that they total it.  The car had been paid off for a while and the biggest reason I got a newer one was of the mileage and how old that and Trex’s car was getting.  It’s maintenance et al compared to a car payment et al (taxes, insurance) reached that decision point.  Turned out, it was prudent since Trex liked to switch off from hers, but loathed that it sat lower than hers (she’s short, so there’s also that….love you Trex), and R2’s car would just quit on him on the regular.  I also ended up with something smaller that consumed less gas and fit my needs.  Though there were times I forgot that I didn’t have the length of my previous car for some of the lumber I’d get.  The plan was that it would end up being Trex’s because she’s done her math and figures her car had a few years left, then it would be scrap.  When I was told it could be repaired, there was a sense of relief.  Until today.  Regardless, no one died at that spot in the highway that evening.  And yet, it was an avoidable situation.  I think that’s what keeps the anger from dissipating entirely.  That it was careless and avoidable.

I leave straight from work to go to the shop.  I needed to retrieve whatever belongings in the car remained, do something with the car’s title so the valuation check can be processed and sent to me.  I haven’t done a power of attorney, and I sign in the wrong place, so the form is useless.  It’d been left so I could leave the keys and title for the adjuster when they returned on Friday.  Now I need a new form.  I head for the lot where the car is parked, then try to call the adjustor.  I don’t have their line handy, I didn’t bring that sheet with me.  But the claims representative transfers me to the total loss department and I’m told I wouldn’t need to sign a POA.  So that seems like it’s best settled meeting with the adjustor in person.  Another day I need to take off it seems.  And I have to turn in the license plate, so there’s that- adding it to the growing list.

I’d seen the side when I stepped out of the car the evening I was hit.  I saw the pictures the adjustor took from their evaluation days later.  In that lot, I see it, parked between two others, plastic billowing from the broken window.  Eleven days later, dinner is in the backseat still, though the impact shunted it to the other side.  And it seems a critter helped themselves to something and someone left their big gulp in the backseat.  I pull papers from the various compartments in the car.  I don’t take much, there wasn’t a lot in the first place.  Then I leave it.  It’s going to be towed to its next to last resting place from what I understand.

With an ache that lets me know I’m not 100%, I head to the light, noticing the lanes don’t line up and when the left green arrow is given, those turning cars look like they’re coming at me for a few seconds.  And I don’t like my unease.  Or the cognitive highlights pointing out that my next stops involve a coffee stop for Trex, then the grocer’s for a few items needed to make dinner, then home.  None of that is lost on me.  But I’m only on week two.