Let me preface this post by saying the following: We're fine!
On Saturday night, when my husband, our friend Amanda, and myself were on our way to a GSA movie night, we were involved in a car accident. We were in the process of turning left onto Waverly from Dorr Street. I had moved slightly forward in order to commit to the turn. I was waiting for traffic to clear from the opposing side of the road when we were rear-ended.
We were perfectly fine one moment and then there was pain and glass all around the next. My hands were bleeding, and I couldn't find my cell phone. Luckily, other people were on the scene calling the accident in. I had started to call from Amanda's phone, but Paul's roommate Drea was there and she took the phone from me to complete the call, something that I greatly appreciated.
Before long, ambulances started to arrive along with firetrucks. I had waited in the car, figuring it was safer than standing in the street. My husband got out of the car, but Amanda also stayed in the car. The paramedics tended to my husband and Amanda, and made me stay seated, though I told them that there was glass digging into and cutting my lower back. In fact, the idiot paramedic that was assigned to me was of extremely little use. It wasn't until I said, "Hey, by the way, I'm bleeding here. Care do to something about that?!" as angrily as possible that she bothered to bandage my hand at all.
We were all taken to the hospital on back boards with neck braces strapped securely around our necks. I never saw the other driver, but I am told that she was a younger black woman. I have no idea whether she was hurt or not, but I am told that she was also taken to the hospital. Amanda was taken to Mercy Hospital, while my husband, myself, and the nameless driver were taken to Toledo Hospital.
I was treated very well there. The ER doctor checked my back manually, then opted to take a few x-rays of my lower back. She pulled several pieces of glass from my eyes. I was then moved to another room. After having been x-rayed, I was permitted to sit up. A physician's assistant then visited me to assess my wounds. She told me that my left hand would require stitches, but the rest would be fine.
While I waited for my stitches, an officer came to take my account of the accident. It went a little something like this:
Officer: How do you feel?
Me: Like shit! How about you!?
O: Well, I saw your car. Frankly, you should be feeling...well, like shit.
He asked me what happened and I summed it up for him. He told me that the only skid marks at the scene were from our car. He also told me that he was certain that she, the other driver, hadn't bothered to try to stop. We were informed that it had taken two tow-trucks to pull our cars apart in order to tow them--but in a twist of random hilarity, the Volvo was still running! (Smashed to bits, but still usable! Volvo for the win!) He told me he was pretty sure that we'd be needing to get a new car. The officer was incredibly nice to me. He told me that he hoped I'd get well soon because he had been in my shoes before.
Tons of our stuff was destroyed too. Our car was a goner, basically. All my school books were in the back, and most of them are far beyond salvation. My husband's laptop--read: his technological pride and joy--was trashed as well. He had a Nook (a Barnes & Noble electronic reader) in his bag that has a smashed screen now. Worst, he lost his glucometer to the crash, which is kind of vital to a Diabetic.
Here's an idea of how hard this lady hit us. Our Volvo is a station wagon with a
hatchback. The back hatch is now touching the roof and back seat of the car. Our radio flew out of the dashboard because of the force behind the impact. Our seats flew back into the reclining position with so much force that they are now broken. Our instrument panel loosened from the dashboard and is now half-hanging from the dash. This wasn't just a teeny tiny tap, people. It was a serious hit.
Needless to say, it wasn't my idea of a great Saturday night. Sunday was spent sleeping. Monday, too, was spent mostly sleeping. Tuesday, I returned to school, but I couldn't make it the whole night. What has been most surprising about this is how tired I become after little activity. My whole body is sore. My hand with the stitches is fairly swollen, and it feels strange to move it. I have bruises all over and tiny cuts as well. My back aches, my neck won't really move all that well, and my arms are just killing me.
I am, however, trying to see the positives here. This is what I have come up with so far:
-New (to us) car
-New school books
-New laptop for my husband
-New Nook, glucometer, etc.
-My tetanus shots are up to date
-I will have a cool new scar to lie about ("Oh, this? I got into a knife fight with a Canadian prostitute. She may have stabbed me in the hand, but I cut her so bad she wishes I hadn't cut her so bad!" or better "Oh, this? I got this during my tenure in the army while fighting in the War of Northern Aggression.")
-It wasn't our fault! At all!
-Free rental car!
-We don't have to pay our own medical bills (FOR ONCE!!!)
-It's a good story to tell
-Four words: pain and suffering compensation
-Everyone turned out to be alright
These last few days have been all bruises, grimaces, and stiffness, but I'm hoping they'll pay off.