My Fifteen Minutes...
So I had worked all day, from 5am until nearly midnight, then went to help Chris move as his former roommate had left him high and dry, when I had the bright idea to try and drive the 45min home to Navarre from north Pensacola. Let me tell you, I haven't made that mistake since. It probably wouldn't have been so bad, but the state saw fit to close down the rest area just before the highway that leads all but right up to my door step. So what did I do, I'm a man(kinda says it all doesn't it), I drove on! Screw sleep, it's overrated anyway.
Well, it wasn't that bright an idea as you probably can tell. I made it to within a mile and a half of my house and then dozed off with the cruise control somewhere around 50mph. I woke up as the truck finished a turn and drifted off into the grass. Just in time to do only three things; realize I was f*cked, decide on a course of action, and scream "OH SH*****T!" at the top of my lungs through the entire crash. (just one long one, not several small ones)
I realized quickly that I couldn't avoid hitting the drainage ditch. If I turned either way, I'd place a tire in the open drain and flip the truck in an uncontrolled fashion. All I could do was hit the brakes in as controlled a manner as someone with adrenaline pumping through their veins can, and hope for the best.
I remember hitting the ditch, or ramp rather. I remember going airborne and thanking the gods that the tree that was in my lights was a foot or two to my right so that I missed it. And I remember nosing down into the ground at at least 35-40mph. The next thing I remember was waking up, slumped on the stearing wheel, with Oingo Boingo's 'dead man's party' playing on my tape deck. I didn't realize it until later, but what I thought was just a second, must have been at least 30min or so. Not only was there no smoke from the two airbags that had gone off in the truck, but the song was on the opposite side of the tape that I had been listening too earlier. Which is fun, because it only started playing when the accident happened and it was slammed into the player the rest of the way. I had been listening to the radio.
So I wake up, look at the grapefruit that my left hand is swelling into, and dig around for my phone. Finding it, I call 911 and give them the details and let them know that I need some kind of assistance before I go into shock. Then I set about the task of staggering around looking for parts of my car. I found most of them, and to my suprise, parts of a car that wasn't so lucky as it had hit the tree I missed. By the sap on the tree, it couldn't have been more than a week or two before my own accident. I finished my collecting and staggered back to the truck only to sit on the tailgate and wait for help.
I find it interesting that I crashed less than a block from a convenience store on a main artery to my home town only to find that no one stopped or checked on the smoking truck across the street at all. I also find it promising that the first person to respond to my accident was an off duty officer who just happened to be heading home that had heard about the accident from dispatch and wanted to make sure I was okay. He didn't arrive until 45min to an hour after I called 911. The state trooper arrived some 15-20min after that and the oh so less than helpful fire department paramedic arrived another 15-20 after the state trooper.
Everything had been taken care of before a medic had ever come close to the scene. Gotta love it. So I refused an ambulence and got a ride from my mother, who lived in the neighborhood at the time, to the ER. It was kinda nice. At 4am or so, they don't have much to do at the Gulf Breeze ER so I was scene fairly quickly. Dr. Westaffer was very comforting, give all kinds of hopeful oppinions and encouraging possibilities. Perhaps the thumb had just been popped out of joint by the airbag or other positive chances. Of course I told him and my mother that I was sure it was F*cked, but by then, the meds had kicked in.
When the nice x-ray tech had finished with the prints and brought them back I was in a small room with my mother. Dr Westaffer and his nurse slammed the x-rays into the viewer in the main area of the ER and thus my 15min of fame started. The only sounds I heard were the nurse's gasp and the doctor saying "OF F*CK!" in suprise loud enough to scare several people, my mother being one of them to say the least. But thanks to the meds, I was simply smiling with a 'told ya' look on my face. It turns out that my thumb was draped across the airbag, when it went off, it drove the thumb directly into my wrist. When the wrist wouldn't give anymore, the thumb shattered in the lower bone. The one half split into a V while the top drove into it like a wedge, splitting it like a fire log.
I managed to get lucky. At this early AM time, Dr Westaffer called an Orthapedic Dr named Dr. Sellers, who had me on the operating table within 29hrs. Dr Sellers did an amazing job, as I have full mobility and excellent circulation in the thumb, as my recent injury (in April of 05) has proven. But the fun was just begining.
Two things came out of my injuries. One was that every time I came back to get my X-rays for follow up visits, I had to come early, as every single person in radiology had to look at them and make sure that everyone else working had seen the "airbag guy's" x-rays. I was also greeted with the same name often... "So YOUR the airbag guy!", etc. The second thing to come out of this experience, was the fact that when Dr Sellers performed the operation, he feared he had OD'd me while I was under. My pulse dropped to almost nothing and my breathing became very shallow. When he had a nurse rush to my mother with his concerns, she simply said, "No, that's just the way he sleeps." So after I recovered from surgery, I had a trip to the sleep center added to my recovery program.
Nothing like a dark room with no stimulus to help you sleep. The doctors said that I was sleeping so deeply that they had problems getting me to wake up for the breaks between tests. I showed signs of not only signs of narcolepsy, as when I did sleep, it was extremely heavy, but sleep apnea, as when I slept, I constantly had my breathing and heart rate slow to almost nothing.
So now, looking back on probably my biggest life experience, I wonder what I got out of it. I think about all I ended up with was an appreciation for only driving while able to stay awake, an appreciation of excellent doctors, a nifty scar that runs down the length of my thumb, and a perscription for provigil that costs me more than $200 a month just so I can wake up in the morning. Life's fun isn't it?
Edit: Oh yes, there was one other thing I gained. A new nick-name from my brother's Chris and Dan.
Trick Thumb
Well, it wasn't that bright an idea as you probably can tell. I made it to within a mile and a half of my house and then dozed off with the cruise control somewhere around 50mph. I woke up as the truck finished a turn and drifted off into the grass. Just in time to do only three things; realize I was f*cked, decide on a course of action, and scream "OH SH*****T!" at the top of my lungs through the entire crash. (just one long one, not several small ones)
I realized quickly that I couldn't avoid hitting the drainage ditch. If I turned either way, I'd place a tire in the open drain and flip the truck in an uncontrolled fashion. All I could do was hit the brakes in as controlled a manner as someone with adrenaline pumping through their veins can, and hope for the best.
I remember hitting the ditch, or ramp rather. I remember going airborne and thanking the gods that the tree that was in my lights was a foot or two to my right so that I missed it. And I remember nosing down into the ground at at least 35-40mph. The next thing I remember was waking up, slumped on the stearing wheel, with Oingo Boingo's 'dead man's party' playing on my tape deck. I didn't realize it until later, but what I thought was just a second, must have been at least 30min or so. Not only was there no smoke from the two airbags that had gone off in the truck, but the song was on the opposite side of the tape that I had been listening too earlier. Which is fun, because it only started playing when the accident happened and it was slammed into the player the rest of the way. I had been listening to the radio.
So I wake up, look at the grapefruit that my left hand is swelling into, and dig around for my phone. Finding it, I call 911 and give them the details and let them know that I need some kind of assistance before I go into shock. Then I set about the task of staggering around looking for parts of my car. I found most of them, and to my suprise, parts of a car that wasn't so lucky as it had hit the tree I missed. By the sap on the tree, it couldn't have been more than a week or two before my own accident. I finished my collecting and staggered back to the truck only to sit on the tailgate and wait for help.
I find it interesting that I crashed less than a block from a convenience store on a main artery to my home town only to find that no one stopped or checked on the smoking truck across the street at all. I also find it promising that the first person to respond to my accident was an off duty officer who just happened to be heading home that had heard about the accident from dispatch and wanted to make sure I was okay. He didn't arrive until 45min to an hour after I called 911. The state trooper arrived some 15-20min after that and the oh so less than helpful fire department paramedic arrived another 15-20 after the state trooper.
Everything had been taken care of before a medic had ever come close to the scene. Gotta love it. So I refused an ambulence and got a ride from my mother, who lived in the neighborhood at the time, to the ER. It was kinda nice. At 4am or so, they don't have much to do at the Gulf Breeze ER so I was scene fairly quickly. Dr. Westaffer was very comforting, give all kinds of hopeful oppinions and encouraging possibilities. Perhaps the thumb had just been popped out of joint by the airbag or other positive chances. Of course I told him and my mother that I was sure it was F*cked, but by then, the meds had kicked in.
When the nice x-ray tech had finished with the prints and brought them back I was in a small room with my mother. Dr Westaffer and his nurse slammed the x-rays into the viewer in the main area of the ER and thus my 15min of fame started. The only sounds I heard were the nurse's gasp and the doctor saying "OF F*CK!" in suprise loud enough to scare several people, my mother being one of them to say the least. But thanks to the meds, I was simply smiling with a 'told ya' look on my face. It turns out that my thumb was draped across the airbag, when it went off, it drove the thumb directly into my wrist. When the wrist wouldn't give anymore, the thumb shattered in the lower bone. The one half split into a V while the top drove into it like a wedge, splitting it like a fire log.
I managed to get lucky. At this early AM time, Dr Westaffer called an Orthapedic Dr named Dr. Sellers, who had me on the operating table within 29hrs. Dr Sellers did an amazing job, as I have full mobility and excellent circulation in the thumb, as my recent injury (in April of 05) has proven. But the fun was just begining.
Two things came out of my injuries. One was that every time I came back to get my X-rays for follow up visits, I had to come early, as every single person in radiology had to look at them and make sure that everyone else working had seen the "airbag guy's" x-rays. I was also greeted with the same name often... "So YOUR the airbag guy!", etc. The second thing to come out of this experience, was the fact that when Dr Sellers performed the operation, he feared he had OD'd me while I was under. My pulse dropped to almost nothing and my breathing became very shallow. When he had a nurse rush to my mother with his concerns, she simply said, "No, that's just the way he sleeps." So after I recovered from surgery, I had a trip to the sleep center added to my recovery program.
Nothing like a dark room with no stimulus to help you sleep. The doctors said that I was sleeping so deeply that they had problems getting me to wake up for the breaks between tests. I showed signs of not only signs of narcolepsy, as when I did sleep, it was extremely heavy, but sleep apnea, as when I slept, I constantly had my breathing and heart rate slow to almost nothing.
So now, looking back on probably my biggest life experience, I wonder what I got out of it. I think about all I ended up with was an appreciation for only driving while able to stay awake, an appreciation of excellent doctors, a nifty scar that runs down the length of my thumb, and a perscription for provigil that costs me more than $200 a month just so I can wake up in the morning. Life's fun isn't it?
Edit: Oh yes, there was one other thing I gained. A new nick-name from my brother's Chris and Dan.
Trick Thumb