(no subject)
Well, I don't have Pita anymore.
for those of you who didn't know, Pita is short for Pepita Bootsy, my beloved honda civic of the last 4 years. A great car who's been through a lot of miles and a lot of seasalt.
So she's gone now. I was rearended at seawall by a drunk/stoned guy. I was stopped, he hit me so hard I slammed into the tracker in front of me. They slammed into the car in front of them. The driver side doors pushed into each other (not crumpled, but like // ish) and I couldn't open the door to get out. My gas was all over the trucker. Hood buckled, tore (as far as I could tell) through most of her innards. Trunk destroyed, driver side back end ruined.
Guy ran, and hit two pedestrians before going off the seawall.
They're okay. Or going to be. No word on him.
So how am I, this lovely sunday evening, when I spent the day at the hospital waiting to be looked at instead of at work?
On crutches, with a patellofemoral injury. And the risk of an anio something, that's like two stages beyond a bruise, with a prescription for vicodin, because apparently I'm going to need it and OH, I'm not supposed to go to school tomorrow.
So how am I?
Miserable. Everytime I think about it I start shaking. I COULD HAVE DIED TODAY. When I get pics of my baby, I'll post them. The guy hit me so hard that the mardi gras beads I had in my pocket flew out, my knee and right leg hit the wheel, my glasses FLEW off my face and onto the dash. By rights, that could have been me. I could have been killed at the ripe old age of 21, by an ass who was drinking at TEN IN THE FUCKING MORNING. I ache, all over, and and...
God. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw this black beast, a silver grille and thought "oh god, he won't..." and then there was the crunching, the sound of metal scraping and my seatbelt locking up, making my whole body jerk forward and back as my car was SHOVED out of the fucking way. The dullness afterwards, because oh please no it didn't happen, turn it back and make it change and he left, dear god I can't see his plates from here. And seeing my baby's hood, crumpled and bent upwards into a tent.
Getting out of the car despite all the people telling me to stay sitting...was I supposed to die? Is that why they were so shocked that I was walking around? I was too stunned to cry, too scared to be angry, and kept hugging the other people that he hit with my car.
Seeing that Pita will never roll again bc that fucker smashed her so hard her front end caved in, looks melted.
Smashed her so hard that the rear driver side tire is BENT, pushed forward and bent to the ground because Civics were not MEANT to be plowed into by an SUV.
And then...hearing from the police officer that the hit and run driver had gone up the road, and ran over two people. Two innocents. And my whole day was spent praying to god that they lived, that his stupidity wouldn't cost someone their lives. And crying. I hurt from crying, and even now KNOWING that they're all right doesn't make me feel that much better on some levels. Because it could have been worse. They could have died. I could have died. If he hadn't hit my car at whatever angle he did, maybe he would have just pushed forward, and not forward slant. Then I woudl have died for certain, or be a paraplegic. The steering wheel column would have smashed me.
Hearing that he had gone off the seawall, that the jaws of life team was trying to cut him out and he had no pulse.
Praying he lives because Id on't want even an idiot dead.
Why am I so upset if I didn't get seriously injured? Is this normal to be crying 9, 10 hours later? Someone save me.ne save me.
for those of you who didn't know, Pita is short for Pepita Bootsy, my beloved honda civic of the last 4 years. A great car who's been through a lot of miles and a lot of seasalt.
So she's gone now. I was rearended at seawall by a drunk/stoned guy. I was stopped, he hit me so hard I slammed into the tracker in front of me. They slammed into the car in front of them. The driver side doors pushed into each other (not crumpled, but like // ish) and I couldn't open the door to get out. My gas was all over the trucker. Hood buckled, tore (as far as I could tell) through most of her innards. Trunk destroyed, driver side back end ruined.
Guy ran, and hit two pedestrians before going off the seawall.
They're okay. Or going to be. No word on him.
So how am I, this lovely sunday evening, when I spent the day at the hospital waiting to be looked at instead of at work?
On crutches, with a patellofemoral injury. And the risk of an anio something, that's like two stages beyond a bruise, with a prescription for vicodin, because apparently I'm going to need it and OH, I'm not supposed to go to school tomorrow.
So how am I?
Miserable. Everytime I think about it I start shaking. I COULD HAVE DIED TODAY. When I get pics of my baby, I'll post them. The guy hit me so hard that the mardi gras beads I had in my pocket flew out, my knee and right leg hit the wheel, my glasses FLEW off my face and onto the dash. By rights, that could have been me. I could have been killed at the ripe old age of 21, by an ass who was drinking at TEN IN THE FUCKING MORNING. I ache, all over, and and...
God. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw this black beast, a silver grille and thought "oh god, he won't..." and then there was the crunching, the sound of metal scraping and my seatbelt locking up, making my whole body jerk forward and back as my car was SHOVED out of the fucking way. The dullness afterwards, because oh please no it didn't happen, turn it back and make it change and he left, dear god I can't see his plates from here. And seeing my baby's hood, crumpled and bent upwards into a tent.
Getting out of the car despite all the people telling me to stay sitting...was I supposed to die? Is that why they were so shocked that I was walking around? I was too stunned to cry, too scared to be angry, and kept hugging the other people that he hit with my car.
Seeing that Pita will never roll again bc that fucker smashed her so hard her front end caved in, looks melted.
Smashed her so hard that the rear driver side tire is BENT, pushed forward and bent to the ground because Civics were not MEANT to be plowed into by an SUV.
And then...hearing from the police officer that the hit and run driver had gone up the road, and ran over two people. Two innocents. And my whole day was spent praying to god that they lived, that his stupidity wouldn't cost someone their lives. And crying. I hurt from crying, and even now KNOWING that they're all right doesn't make me feel that much better on some levels. Because it could have been worse. They could have died. I could have died. If he hadn't hit my car at whatever angle he did, maybe he would have just pushed forward, and not forward slant. Then I woudl have died for certain, or be a paraplegic. The steering wheel column would have smashed me.
Hearing that he had gone off the seawall, that the jaws of life team was trying to cut him out and he had no pulse.
Praying he lives because Id on't want even an idiot dead.
Why am I so upset if I didn't get seriously injured? Is this normal to be crying 9, 10 hours later? Someone save me.ne save me.