Groin vs. Gatorade. Gatorade wins!
As some have probably already read from my DW's journal, I got hit by a full gatorade bottle thrown from a vehicle this evening.
I was finishing up my walk with the dog, about 3 blocks from home, when someone in a speeding car going the opposite direction whipped a full gatorade bottle out the window and hit me in the lower abdomen.
I tried to roll over and see the car, but it was going fast and there was a telephone pole in the way. I got a color, style, and maybe a make and model, but couldn't make out a license plate.
Anyway, as I've never experienced anything like that before, I called 911. I was worried I could have had internal bleeding or who-knows-what. I mean, it hurt like hell. A firetruck pulled up, and they checked me out, and a policeman arrived shortly thereafter.
But, then a perfect shitstorm of crazy went off in the city (someone got stabbed at a store nearby?) and so they made sure I wasn't dying, that the ambulance was on its way, and then the firetruck and police officer left. The paramedics arrived, checked me out, and advised me to get it checked out. I declined a ride to a hospital, and hobbled home, and then headed off to my local urgent care facility.
To make a long, boring story short, it turns out I got hit in the lower abdomen on the right side, just where all the leg muscles are hooking up. the doctor said I got hit on the muscle, and that I was going to hurt like hell tomorrow. She gave me a lion's dose of ibuprofen, recommended a cold pack tonight and heat for the next couple of days, and said I should stretch before bed and tomorrow.
Anyway, the ibuprofen is doing its trick but I'm not looking forward to tomorrow.
The police officer checked back on me, took down some information for a report, but since I couldn't give a definitive on the type of car, and I didn't have a license plate number I don't think much will come of it.
What can I say? I'm not particularly angry, just more bewildered at the crazy thoughtlessness and random cruelty that people are capable of. Still, if they do end up catching someone, I'm certainly not going to shed any tears.
Final diagnosis? I'll live.
I was finishing up my walk with the dog, about 3 blocks from home, when someone in a speeding car going the opposite direction whipped a full gatorade bottle out the window and hit me in the lower abdomen.
I tried to roll over and see the car, but it was going fast and there was a telephone pole in the way. I got a color, style, and maybe a make and model, but couldn't make out a license plate.
Anyway, as I've never experienced anything like that before, I called 911. I was worried I could have had internal bleeding or who-knows-what. I mean, it hurt like hell. A firetruck pulled up, and they checked me out, and a policeman arrived shortly thereafter.
But, then a perfect shitstorm of crazy went off in the city (someone got stabbed at a store nearby?) and so they made sure I wasn't dying, that the ambulance was on its way, and then the firetruck and police officer left. The paramedics arrived, checked me out, and advised me to get it checked out. I declined a ride to a hospital, and hobbled home, and then headed off to my local urgent care facility.
To make a long, boring story short, it turns out I got hit in the lower abdomen on the right side, just where all the leg muscles are hooking up. the doctor said I got hit on the muscle, and that I was going to hurt like hell tomorrow. She gave me a lion's dose of ibuprofen, recommended a cold pack tonight and heat for the next couple of days, and said I should stretch before bed and tomorrow.
Anyway, the ibuprofen is doing its trick but I'm not looking forward to tomorrow.
The police officer checked back on me, took down some information for a report, but since I couldn't give a definitive on the type of car, and I didn't have a license plate number I don't think much will come of it.
What can I say? I'm not particularly angry, just more bewildered at the crazy thoughtlessness and random cruelty that people are capable of. Still, if they do end up catching someone, I'm certainly not going to shed any tears.
Final diagnosis? I'll live.