(no subject)
I was in a violent car accident about 3 - 4 weeks ago, on December 19th. My mother, Jon, and I were on our way back from early morning grocery shopping; we had intentions to make cookies upon our return home.
We were sitting in the left turn lane waiting for a gap in oncoming traffic when there was an explosion of movement and sound. That's really the only way I can describe it to anyone who has not experienced a car crash - things literally exploded, and we were flung forward. From a complete standstill of 0mph, we were thrown ~40 yards (120 feet!!) across all 3 lanes of traffic and ended up on the opposite side of the road, halfway on the curb/grass. All I remember of this part (we all experienced a 1 second black out from the explosion, from shock or something else we don't know, but it's a gap in our memories) is looking out from the backseat through the front window and hearing the squeal of the tires as Jon tried to not hit anyone else.
My mother, in the passenger seat, and I, in the backseat behind the driver, were first up. All the doors but the driver's were smashed shut and we could not open them. Both of our first thoughts were for Jon, as it's usually the driver who suffers the most in car accidents. My mother opened the driver's door and crawled over him to get out while I unbuckled his seatbelt. We were panicking, trying to find my mother's purse to call 911, and making sure Jon was conscious and okay, or as okay as one can be after such an incident.
We found my mother's purse beside the driver's door, flung from underneath the passenger's seat. It was upturned and everything had fallen out, so we were unable to find her phone immediately. A man must have stopped in the street because he came up to us as we were screaming for someone to call 911 and asked if we were okay. We never really exchanged words with him, and he left soon after, but I thank him regardless, wherever he is now.
Of the few good news there is to be had in this story, one of it is that our accident happened right outside of a fire station. They heard the impact and a fire truck immediately came out, so the paramedics were there within seconds. By this point Jon was talking, if not a little winded by the impact, and claimed he was okay. We told him not to move. My mother, who was now outside the driver's open door, started feeling faint. I got a clear look at her and it honestly looked like the right side of her face was caved in - it was an illusion, as I later realized.
While Jon and I were thrown straight forward into our seatbelts, my mother was sent slightly to the right and therefore hit her head on the frame of the passenger seat window. She had a huge hematoma above her right eye, and the size of it dwarfed her normal facial structure, making it appear as if things were out of proportion. A lady paramedic ran up to care for my mother, who after hearing me and Jon go "oh my god..." at the sight of her, started feeling dizzy and ill.
I was still trapped in the backseat, unable to shove open any of the doors, so I took a couple seconds to glance around. All the seats had flattened, broken or simply part of the car's structure upon impact I don't know. We had been rear-ended at an incredible speed - 45 or 50mph as I was later told - so the rear window was shattered and tinted glass was all over my seat and the compressed trunk. Some groceries were littered across the 40 yards we traveled, while others were smashed and shoved aside still inside the car.
Another paramedic had come up to care for Jon. My mother and the lady paramedic had moved to the grass to lay my mother down. My panic ramped up - this was the day after school let out, the first day of winter break, and the last week before break teachers usually just put a movie on and call it a day. Two movies I had seen involved people dying in car accidents. I couldn't handle the coincidence. I asked the paramedic by Jon's side if I could get out, and he came around to pull open one of the side doors for me. I immediately ran out to see how my mother was doing.
When my feet hit the ground, I almost buckled. It was about that point that I realized I was injured too, albeit still able to move and think as clearly as one panicking can. I made it over to my mother and didn't know how to react. I was so worried, so panicked, so unsure, so scared. I asked the lady paramedic if my mother would be okay repeatedly - all I wanted to hear was that she wasn't going to die. I couldn't lose another parent. I couldn't lose my last parent. I couldn't lose my mom.
She told me my mother was fine - she explained to me what a hematoma was, and it did reassure me. She was so calm with me. I don't know her name or where she is now but I thank her, too. My mother, however, was asking about Jon, so I got up and climbed back into the car to check on him and the other paramedic.
Jon was much more coherent and good-natured about the whole situation. He and the paramedic were calmly going over everything. Jon had the wind knocked out of him and his calf hurt a bit, so he wasn't moving, but he was talking clearly. I told my mother this, but she kept asking about him every now and then so I had to run back and forth between her and the car to deliver messages to the two of them.
While we were lucky enough to have our accident outside a fire station, at 1:30pm on a Saturday, all ambulances north of the interstate highway were busy. It took at least 30 - 45 mins for 3 of them to arrive.
In the time waiting for them, I fumbled for my mother's phone (found it in the dashboard behind the steering wheel) and Jon's phone (he pulled it out of his pocket for me) to call someone, anyone. My phone had died the week before; it was sitting dead in my pocket. The only person I knew to call was Matthew (Otacon), my boyfriend. I tried him, his mother, our old neighbors the Alderdices, but no one answered. I was pretty much hyperventilating, but too much in shock to cry just yet. I asked the paramedics if the other people were okay - I had no idea who they were, or even what their car looked like. The fire truck that pulled out from the station blocked my view of the person who hit us, who went flying in the opposite direction into the intersection. The man beside Jon told me they were okay, but I don't know if that was just blind reassurance or the truth.
I spent most of my time beside my mother, trying the phone every couple of minutes, and trying to comfort her as much as possible until the ambulances arrived. The police appeared sometime around this point and began to document the scene. The man who was taking the notes for the police report came up to me since I was really the only one moving around and able to talk. I gave him my mother's license from her wallet, and I'm assuming he got Jon's at some point, but since I had no ID I had to tell him my information. I just remember being embarrassed that my voice was so shaky and high-pitched and that I could only offer him my permit and not a real driver's license. He was very kind, too - though I wonder if that was just a reaction to how fragile I was, or if he was truly a kind man. I question this because when you hear of policemen, they're always so stern and to-the-point. Perhaps that's a stereotype, but it's all I have to go on.
While I largely bided the time until the ambulances arrived, I was allowed some spare moments to look around as I gathered things to take with me. Two people walked by on the grass where my mother was laying, and I stared at them. I'm sure they were taking the whole scene in, but not even a word. It was surreal as I felt very much like I was on the inside looking out. About this point, my mother's phone rang. It was Matthew, returning my frantic attempts to contact him. Hearing his voice grounded me somewhat, though what really stands out in my mind is the first thing I said to him: "Are you okay?" I immediately realized what I had said, and how pointless it was, as of course he's okay, and I still can't quite explain it. Perhaps I just needed one person to be fine?
Finally, an ambulance arrived, but it was only one out of the three. Jon requested that my mother be taken first, and for a split second I was torn on what to do. I took my mother's purse, her wallet, and both phones in my arms as the EMTs put a neck brace on my mother and loaded her onto a stretcher. While still on the phone with Matthew, I ran to tell Jon (still in the driver's seat of the car) that I was going with my mother. Essential items in hand, I got into the passenger seat of the ambulance and everything became very quiet once the door shut. Matthew, still confused on what exactly had happened, began trying to calm me down as I explained everything. The situation finally hit me, and I began to cry in earnest. Unfortunately, my mother's phone was very low on battery, and knowing that I had to preserve it, I was forced to say goodbye to Matthew with a promise that I'd keep him updated via text. An EMT got into the driver's seat and began explaining things to me while asking me questions about my mother's medical history. He had a Toughbook attached where the center console would normally be in a car and was typing in a report, most likely to send ahead to the hospital we were being taken to. I asked him many questions interspersed with my crying. He told me that unless someone was on their deathbed, they run precautionary (phase 2 or something, as opposed to 3) and do not turn on their lights, but do drive faster than normal. He explained why we were being taken to the hospital we were, as it was rated #1 for trauma in the immediate area, and was only 15 - 20 minutes away. I asked him if I could call back to my mother to let her know I was with her, but he said she probably wouldn't hear me. So I waited, cried, organized my mother's purse, asked more questions, and finally we made it to the hospital.
They pulled her out from the ambulance still on the stretcher and I immediately took her hand. She was desperate for my presence as her grip was firm and needy. I told her I wouldn't leave her side as they took us into the ER wing and prepared a bed for her. They put her on one of the beds in the hallway, and a doctor appeared to check the vitals (broken spine etc). After that, everything slowed down dramatically. The doctors disappeared despite promises to my mother that they'd bring her a blanket and some medicine to ease the pain. I sat beside my mother's bed for a while until I realized that they were not coming back. It hurt to listen to my mother in such pain, so I told her I'd go ask the doctors myself. She was not very responsive and I frequently wasn't even sure if she was able to comprehend what I was saying. I began to get very frustrated with the service, as the doctors were loitering around chatting with their colleagues, even though they said they'd do something. I had to find a stray nurse to give me a warm blanket, and kept pestering the doctors up front periodically to get my mother some medicine. I also kept an eye out for another other ambulance arrivals, trying to find Jon, but no one came in the same way we did. I eventually asked and a kind nurse looked him up in the current patient list for me. One of the EMTs who was standing around in the lobby-area led me to another wing to Jon's room. He was being given an ultrasound to check for any internal bleeding. He and the doctors assured me everything was going well, so I told him I'd be back.
My legs were really sore at this point, and the muscles in my left leg specifically were tensing up. I was limping all around the hospital as I kept track of my mother's needs and Jon's status. When I was sitting for a couple of minutes, a lady came up to me to sign insurance paperwork. I had no clue what else to do other than sign it - I worried if I hadn't turned 18 recently, would I have been able to sign? Or would they not have cared? My off-and-on crying returned and I ended up smudging one of my signatures. It hurt that despite all this trauma going on around me, I was being presented with finances... Was that really the only important thing?
One of the EMTs, possibly the one who drove the ambulance (I stopped paying attention to faces by this point), came up to me during one of my crying fits and talked about simple things. He asked me what I wanted to do and if I had a college picked out. Having to think of responses and sound coherent while speaking caused my tears to dry up for a while longer. In retrospect that was probably his intention; his way of comforting me. It means quite a bit to me.
At one point, maybe an hour and a half to two hours into our hospital stay, my mother finally said something other than she was in pain - she told me to call our neighbors, the Canadians, to let our dog Molly outside. It seemed so random to me, that of everything deep inside she thought of Molly back at home (it hadn't even occurred to me!). So I called Peter and briefed him on the situation. I spent my minutes tending to my mother, harassing the doctors, and talking with Jon. Almost immediately, I asked him what he remembered and began to piece things together as best I could. I felt an inherent drive to understand what had happened to us.
I had no sense of time (even though I was wearing a watch, I didn't look at it for whatever reason) so some odd hours later, Peter's wife Kathryn called and offered to come to the hospital. I was so relieved, as not only had I been talking with Jon about how we'd need a ride home, but also because I was tired of being strong. After this, a nurse finally came to administer my mother some morphine for her intense pain. My mother, wary, asked for a smaller dose than intended, just to test the waters. It made her feel incredibly funny and she was turned off from it, but still hoped it would ease her pain. A while later, it had done nothing, so I sent out to try to find the nurse so she could give my mother some more.
Peter and Kathryn arrived at the hospital perhaps an hour later and I went to find them and lead them to Jon and my mother. Peter and Jon exchanged banter while Kathryn soothed my mother. The nurse reappeared to give my mother the full dose of morphine this time. Throughout all of this, both my mother and Jon had been pulled out to have CAT scans and whatnot taken, to check for brain trauma etc. In the end, both were clear, and we were ready to check out of the hospital. My mother immediately became more talkative (though still not social) once she heard her scans were clean - her intense fear probably kept her silenced the whole time. A physician came to give my mother a briefing on what exactly she had to deal with now. He explained her hematoma and the bruising (I actually learned something new here, though I suppose it's quite obvious - bruising moves down with gravity!) and prescribed her some pain medication (vicodin) and recommended some eye drops for her right eye, which had swollen shut by this point.
Jon was able to walk out, though all he had to wear was the hospital gown and his jeans as they had cut his shirt off. My mother was put in a wheelchair as she didn't quite have her balance or stability of legs. Peter pulled the car around as Kathryn assisted me with my mother. It was around 7 or 8pm at this point, meaning I spent a grand total of 6 - 7 hours sitting around and fretting in the hospital. Unfortunately we had a new problem on our hands: we needed my mother's pain meds filled immediately, but almost every pharmacy was closed. We stopped by a CVS on our way home, but their pharmacy was not 24-hours, so all we got was another ice pack. My mother wanted to go home, so my mother and I were dropped off at home while Jon and Peter went to find an open pharmacy.
I got my mother settled on the couch in the TV room and told her I wouldn't leave. So to get myself comfortable, I had to gather my own supplies. It was about this point I faced my worst enemy: the stairs. My legs were giving me some pretty bad pain, but it was nothing compared to trying to climb the stairs. I grabbed my mother's laptop and my headphones and caught up with the internet. Twitter was the first to hear the news of the accident, of course. Jon came home and my mother was allowed to take the vicodin. The shock lingered in my mind as the night drew on, and I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear I would dream of the violent crash.
In the end, I slept fine; I dreamed of Matthew. The doctors and EMTs had told us we would be much more sore the morning after, but I actually felt a lot better. The soreness was gradual in the following week, peaking in week two, before healing almost overnight by week three.
I started thinking about what had happened in depth. What really stood out to me was this:
1) I never, ever go grocery shopping with my mother and Jon. It's usually much more pleasurable for me to stay home with the internet and the silence.
2) I was close to not going anyway, as my mother and I fought right before they left. I pouted and told her I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, as I didn't feel wanted. My mother told me to come along anyway, and I did.
3) My cell was dead, and I never answer the home phone, so if they were in the accident without me, I would have had no way of knowing. No one would have been there to take care of them.
I don't know whether to call all of these things coincidences, or fate, or an act of God. All I do know is that it's very strange, very disconcerting, and will haunt me for a while further.
As time passed, my mother got progressively better, and is now up and about as if nothing happened. She still has a large bump above her right eye, but her bruising is all but gone. Her blood pressure has spiked since the accident, which concerns me, but she's getting it treated so I'm hoping things will revert as she continues to heal.
Jon frequently has dizzy spells; he must have damaged his inner ear somehow as he heard ringing for a while after, and the inner ear affects balance. His ribs were sore from the seatbelt and/or hitting the steering wheel, but I think those are largely okay now. He may have twisted his right leg, simply from the way the driver's seat was twisted in the impact. Both his and my mother's personal doctors think he has a mild concussion, although the hospital picked nothing up.
My legs are almost completely healed now, though for a while they had some pretty nasty and painful bruises. I may have some hematomas of my own, as the bruises are rock-hard even if the colors are gone. I can walk and climb stairs fine now, but it hurts to jump or experience any kind of shock-impact. My ribs were terribly sore for a while (I couldn't even scoop ice cream without intense pain, let alone sneeze or cough) but got much better practically overnight. I had a burn on my lower back, most likely from my jeans, but it healed and will probably only leave a small scar.
So while we are healing physically, we must face the emotional and mental. All of us have expressed extreme discomfort while driving or being driven now. My mother refuses to drive on large, active roads now, and will do anything to take the more quiet backroads. She also zips her purse, learning from when everything spilled out. Jon checks the rearview mirror whenever he stops to make sure the person behind him has stopped also. I have become hyperaware of every noise and motion on the lanes surrounding us, and uncross my legs whenever we come to a standstill. (I believe my bruises are where they are because I had my legs crossed when the impact occurred - I can't actually remember, but I'm pretty sure). Somehow, I feel marked, and I worry that it will happen again.
The ironic part was that I was planning to get my driver's license the following Tuesday with Matthew... He had to cancel for his own reasons, but the accident scared me off from driving. Our old neighbors that I had attempted to call immediately after the crash, the Alderdices, came over a day or two after with some wonderful chicken soup. (Seriously, best soup I've ever had, ever.) Sharon explained her own car crash experiences, as did Bill, and told me that I can't hide from life just because this happened. She was right, and although I'm still hesitant to drive, let alone trust my life to other people like that, I can't avoid it...
Things are improving slowly. My mother and Jon are dealing with finances and insurance now (they only just got the ambulance and hospital bills - ambulances were around $4k total and the hospital was ~$25k total - that is a shitload of money for emergency medical care!). They're looking around for an attorney to sort things out.
When we got the police report, we learned the guy who hit us was 18-years-old and was not wearing a seatbelt (!). With us in Jon's Lincoln Navigator (a huge SUV) and him in his Toyota Sequoia (another huge SUV), the extent of the damage was easy to explain. However, the "why" was still unexplained. The boy's reason he gave to the police? He hadn't eaten all day.
No, really.
If he had some kind of medical condition, then yes, I can understand his lack of food would lead to a black out of some sort, but in that case he probably would not be allowed to drive without some restrictions. A very lame excuse, all in all, for a healthy 18-year-old. (I looked him up on Facebook and he is the normal jock type.)
My mother thinks he was texting, and I'd have to agree. He must have been looking down and drifted into our lane. This can be easily proven with phone records, and I believe my mother wants to pursue that path.
I, personally, just want to talk to him. I'm kind of angry, deep inside, but really I just want to guilt-trip him. Does he know he could have killed me, a fellow 18-year-old? Just how he is attending college, he could have erased my future completely. Poof, off the map. Or he could have taken my mother, my only parent, or even Jon! Is he aware how negligent he was being? Does he feel remorse at all? Did he ask about us, just like I asked the paramedic about him? But I can't, because of insurance...
So I'm trying to move on with my life, but it's hard. I'm haunted with these images, the movement, the smell, everything lingers and if I close my eyes, I can see it...
VerusMaya II
We were sitting in the left turn lane waiting for a gap in oncoming traffic when there was an explosion of movement and sound. That's really the only way I can describe it to anyone who has not experienced a car crash - things literally exploded, and we were flung forward. From a complete standstill of 0mph, we were thrown ~40 yards (120 feet!!) across all 3 lanes of traffic and ended up on the opposite side of the road, halfway on the curb/grass. All I remember of this part (we all experienced a 1 second black out from the explosion, from shock or something else we don't know, but it's a gap in our memories) is looking out from the backseat through the front window and hearing the squeal of the tires as Jon tried to not hit anyone else.
My mother, in the passenger seat, and I, in the backseat behind the driver, were first up. All the doors but the driver's were smashed shut and we could not open them. Both of our first thoughts were for Jon, as it's usually the driver who suffers the most in car accidents. My mother opened the driver's door and crawled over him to get out while I unbuckled his seatbelt. We were panicking, trying to find my mother's purse to call 911, and making sure Jon was conscious and okay, or as okay as one can be after such an incident.
We found my mother's purse beside the driver's door, flung from underneath the passenger's seat. It was upturned and everything had fallen out, so we were unable to find her phone immediately. A man must have stopped in the street because he came up to us as we were screaming for someone to call 911 and asked if we were okay. We never really exchanged words with him, and he left soon after, but I thank him regardless, wherever he is now.
Of the few good news there is to be had in this story, one of it is that our accident happened right outside of a fire station. They heard the impact and a fire truck immediately came out, so the paramedics were there within seconds. By this point Jon was talking, if not a little winded by the impact, and claimed he was okay. We told him not to move. My mother, who was now outside the driver's open door, started feeling faint. I got a clear look at her and it honestly looked like the right side of her face was caved in - it was an illusion, as I later realized.
While Jon and I were thrown straight forward into our seatbelts, my mother was sent slightly to the right and therefore hit her head on the frame of the passenger seat window. She had a huge hematoma above her right eye, and the size of it dwarfed her normal facial structure, making it appear as if things were out of proportion. A lady paramedic ran up to care for my mother, who after hearing me and Jon go "oh my god..." at the sight of her, started feeling dizzy and ill.
I was still trapped in the backseat, unable to shove open any of the doors, so I took a couple seconds to glance around. All the seats had flattened, broken or simply part of the car's structure upon impact I don't know. We had been rear-ended at an incredible speed - 45 or 50mph as I was later told - so the rear window was shattered and tinted glass was all over my seat and the compressed trunk. Some groceries were littered across the 40 yards we traveled, while others were smashed and shoved aside still inside the car.
Another paramedic had come up to care for Jon. My mother and the lady paramedic had moved to the grass to lay my mother down. My panic ramped up - this was the day after school let out, the first day of winter break, and the last week before break teachers usually just put a movie on and call it a day. Two movies I had seen involved people dying in car accidents. I couldn't handle the coincidence. I asked the paramedic by Jon's side if I could get out, and he came around to pull open one of the side doors for me. I immediately ran out to see how my mother was doing.
When my feet hit the ground, I almost buckled. It was about that point that I realized I was injured too, albeit still able to move and think as clearly as one panicking can. I made it over to my mother and didn't know how to react. I was so worried, so panicked, so unsure, so scared. I asked the lady paramedic if my mother would be okay repeatedly - all I wanted to hear was that she wasn't going to die. I couldn't lose another parent. I couldn't lose my last parent. I couldn't lose my mom.
She told me my mother was fine - she explained to me what a hematoma was, and it did reassure me. She was so calm with me. I don't know her name or where she is now but I thank her, too. My mother, however, was asking about Jon, so I got up and climbed back into the car to check on him and the other paramedic.
Jon was much more coherent and good-natured about the whole situation. He and the paramedic were calmly going over everything. Jon had the wind knocked out of him and his calf hurt a bit, so he wasn't moving, but he was talking clearly. I told my mother this, but she kept asking about him every now and then so I had to run back and forth between her and the car to deliver messages to the two of them.
While we were lucky enough to have our accident outside a fire station, at 1:30pm on a Saturday, all ambulances north of the interstate highway were busy. It took at least 30 - 45 mins for 3 of them to arrive.
In the time waiting for them, I fumbled for my mother's phone (found it in the dashboard behind the steering wheel) and Jon's phone (he pulled it out of his pocket for me) to call someone, anyone. My phone had died the week before; it was sitting dead in my pocket. The only person I knew to call was Matthew (Otacon), my boyfriend. I tried him, his mother, our old neighbors the Alderdices, but no one answered. I was pretty much hyperventilating, but too much in shock to cry just yet. I asked the paramedics if the other people were okay - I had no idea who they were, or even what their car looked like. The fire truck that pulled out from the station blocked my view of the person who hit us, who went flying in the opposite direction into the intersection. The man beside Jon told me they were okay, but I don't know if that was just blind reassurance or the truth.
I spent most of my time beside my mother, trying the phone every couple of minutes, and trying to comfort her as much as possible until the ambulances arrived. The police appeared sometime around this point and began to document the scene. The man who was taking the notes for the police report came up to me since I was really the only one moving around and able to talk. I gave him my mother's license from her wallet, and I'm assuming he got Jon's at some point, but since I had no ID I had to tell him my information. I just remember being embarrassed that my voice was so shaky and high-pitched and that I could only offer him my permit and not a real driver's license. He was very kind, too - though I wonder if that was just a reaction to how fragile I was, or if he was truly a kind man. I question this because when you hear of policemen, they're always so stern and to-the-point. Perhaps that's a stereotype, but it's all I have to go on.
While I largely bided the time until the ambulances arrived, I was allowed some spare moments to look around as I gathered things to take with me. Two people walked by on the grass where my mother was laying, and I stared at them. I'm sure they were taking the whole scene in, but not even a word. It was surreal as I felt very much like I was on the inside looking out. About this point, my mother's phone rang. It was Matthew, returning my frantic attempts to contact him. Hearing his voice grounded me somewhat, though what really stands out in my mind is the first thing I said to him: "Are you okay?" I immediately realized what I had said, and how pointless it was, as of course he's okay, and I still can't quite explain it. Perhaps I just needed one person to be fine?
Finally, an ambulance arrived, but it was only one out of the three. Jon requested that my mother be taken first, and for a split second I was torn on what to do. I took my mother's purse, her wallet, and both phones in my arms as the EMTs put a neck brace on my mother and loaded her onto a stretcher. While still on the phone with Matthew, I ran to tell Jon (still in the driver's seat of the car) that I was going with my mother. Essential items in hand, I got into the passenger seat of the ambulance and everything became very quiet once the door shut. Matthew, still confused on what exactly had happened, began trying to calm me down as I explained everything. The situation finally hit me, and I began to cry in earnest. Unfortunately, my mother's phone was very low on battery, and knowing that I had to preserve it, I was forced to say goodbye to Matthew with a promise that I'd keep him updated via text. An EMT got into the driver's seat and began explaining things to me while asking me questions about my mother's medical history. He had a Toughbook attached where the center console would normally be in a car and was typing in a report, most likely to send ahead to the hospital we were being taken to. I asked him many questions interspersed with my crying. He told me that unless someone was on their deathbed, they run precautionary (phase 2 or something, as opposed to 3) and do not turn on their lights, but do drive faster than normal. He explained why we were being taken to the hospital we were, as it was rated #1 for trauma in the immediate area, and was only 15 - 20 minutes away. I asked him if I could call back to my mother to let her know I was with her, but he said she probably wouldn't hear me. So I waited, cried, organized my mother's purse, asked more questions, and finally we made it to the hospital.
They pulled her out from the ambulance still on the stretcher and I immediately took her hand. She was desperate for my presence as her grip was firm and needy. I told her I wouldn't leave her side as they took us into the ER wing and prepared a bed for her. They put her on one of the beds in the hallway, and a doctor appeared to check the vitals (broken spine etc). After that, everything slowed down dramatically. The doctors disappeared despite promises to my mother that they'd bring her a blanket and some medicine to ease the pain. I sat beside my mother's bed for a while until I realized that they were not coming back. It hurt to listen to my mother in such pain, so I told her I'd go ask the doctors myself. She was not very responsive and I frequently wasn't even sure if she was able to comprehend what I was saying. I began to get very frustrated with the service, as the doctors were loitering around chatting with their colleagues, even though they said they'd do something. I had to find a stray nurse to give me a warm blanket, and kept pestering the doctors up front periodically to get my mother some medicine. I also kept an eye out for another other ambulance arrivals, trying to find Jon, but no one came in the same way we did. I eventually asked and a kind nurse looked him up in the current patient list for me. One of the EMTs who was standing around in the lobby-area led me to another wing to Jon's room. He was being given an ultrasound to check for any internal bleeding. He and the doctors assured me everything was going well, so I told him I'd be back.
My legs were really sore at this point, and the muscles in my left leg specifically were tensing up. I was limping all around the hospital as I kept track of my mother's needs and Jon's status. When I was sitting for a couple of minutes, a lady came up to me to sign insurance paperwork. I had no clue what else to do other than sign it - I worried if I hadn't turned 18 recently, would I have been able to sign? Or would they not have cared? My off-and-on crying returned and I ended up smudging one of my signatures. It hurt that despite all this trauma going on around me, I was being presented with finances... Was that really the only important thing?
One of the EMTs, possibly the one who drove the ambulance (I stopped paying attention to faces by this point), came up to me during one of my crying fits and talked about simple things. He asked me what I wanted to do and if I had a college picked out. Having to think of responses and sound coherent while speaking caused my tears to dry up for a while longer. In retrospect that was probably his intention; his way of comforting me. It means quite a bit to me.
At one point, maybe an hour and a half to two hours into our hospital stay, my mother finally said something other than she was in pain - she told me to call our neighbors, the Canadians, to let our dog Molly outside. It seemed so random to me, that of everything deep inside she thought of Molly back at home (it hadn't even occurred to me!). So I called Peter and briefed him on the situation. I spent my minutes tending to my mother, harassing the doctors, and talking with Jon. Almost immediately, I asked him what he remembered and began to piece things together as best I could. I felt an inherent drive to understand what had happened to us.
I had no sense of time (even though I was wearing a watch, I didn't look at it for whatever reason) so some odd hours later, Peter's wife Kathryn called and offered to come to the hospital. I was so relieved, as not only had I been talking with Jon about how we'd need a ride home, but also because I was tired of being strong. After this, a nurse finally came to administer my mother some morphine for her intense pain. My mother, wary, asked for a smaller dose than intended, just to test the waters. It made her feel incredibly funny and she was turned off from it, but still hoped it would ease her pain. A while later, it had done nothing, so I sent out to try to find the nurse so she could give my mother some more.
Peter and Kathryn arrived at the hospital perhaps an hour later and I went to find them and lead them to Jon and my mother. Peter and Jon exchanged banter while Kathryn soothed my mother. The nurse reappeared to give my mother the full dose of morphine this time. Throughout all of this, both my mother and Jon had been pulled out to have CAT scans and whatnot taken, to check for brain trauma etc. In the end, both were clear, and we were ready to check out of the hospital. My mother immediately became more talkative (though still not social) once she heard her scans were clean - her intense fear probably kept her silenced the whole time. A physician came to give my mother a briefing on what exactly she had to deal with now. He explained her hematoma and the bruising (I actually learned something new here, though I suppose it's quite obvious - bruising moves down with gravity!) and prescribed her some pain medication (vicodin) and recommended some eye drops for her right eye, which had swollen shut by this point.
Jon was able to walk out, though all he had to wear was the hospital gown and his jeans as they had cut his shirt off. My mother was put in a wheelchair as she didn't quite have her balance or stability of legs. Peter pulled the car around as Kathryn assisted me with my mother. It was around 7 or 8pm at this point, meaning I spent a grand total of 6 - 7 hours sitting around and fretting in the hospital. Unfortunately we had a new problem on our hands: we needed my mother's pain meds filled immediately, but almost every pharmacy was closed. We stopped by a CVS on our way home, but their pharmacy was not 24-hours, so all we got was another ice pack. My mother wanted to go home, so my mother and I were dropped off at home while Jon and Peter went to find an open pharmacy.
I got my mother settled on the couch in the TV room and told her I wouldn't leave. So to get myself comfortable, I had to gather my own supplies. It was about this point I faced my worst enemy: the stairs. My legs were giving me some pretty bad pain, but it was nothing compared to trying to climb the stairs. I grabbed my mother's laptop and my headphones and caught up with the internet. Twitter was the first to hear the news of the accident, of course. Jon came home and my mother was allowed to take the vicodin. The shock lingered in my mind as the night drew on, and I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear I would dream of the violent crash.
In the end, I slept fine; I dreamed of Matthew. The doctors and EMTs had told us we would be much more sore the morning after, but I actually felt a lot better. The soreness was gradual in the following week, peaking in week two, before healing almost overnight by week three.
I started thinking about what had happened in depth. What really stood out to me was this:
1) I never, ever go grocery shopping with my mother and Jon. It's usually much more pleasurable for me to stay home with the internet and the silence.
2) I was close to not going anyway, as my mother and I fought right before they left. I pouted and told her I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, as I didn't feel wanted. My mother told me to come along anyway, and I did.
3) My cell was dead, and I never answer the home phone, so if they were in the accident without me, I would have had no way of knowing. No one would have been there to take care of them.
I don't know whether to call all of these things coincidences, or fate, or an act of God. All I do know is that it's very strange, very disconcerting, and will haunt me for a while further.
As time passed, my mother got progressively better, and is now up and about as if nothing happened. She still has a large bump above her right eye, but her bruising is all but gone. Her blood pressure has spiked since the accident, which concerns me, but she's getting it treated so I'm hoping things will revert as she continues to heal.
Jon frequently has dizzy spells; he must have damaged his inner ear somehow as he heard ringing for a while after, and the inner ear affects balance. His ribs were sore from the seatbelt and/or hitting the steering wheel, but I think those are largely okay now. He may have twisted his right leg, simply from the way the driver's seat was twisted in the impact. Both his and my mother's personal doctors think he has a mild concussion, although the hospital picked nothing up.
My legs are almost completely healed now, though for a while they had some pretty nasty and painful bruises. I may have some hematomas of my own, as the bruises are rock-hard even if the colors are gone. I can walk and climb stairs fine now, but it hurts to jump or experience any kind of shock-impact. My ribs were terribly sore for a while (I couldn't even scoop ice cream without intense pain, let alone sneeze or cough) but got much better practically overnight. I had a burn on my lower back, most likely from my jeans, but it healed and will probably only leave a small scar.
So while we are healing physically, we must face the emotional and mental. All of us have expressed extreme discomfort while driving or being driven now. My mother refuses to drive on large, active roads now, and will do anything to take the more quiet backroads. She also zips her purse, learning from when everything spilled out. Jon checks the rearview mirror whenever he stops to make sure the person behind him has stopped also. I have become hyperaware of every noise and motion on the lanes surrounding us, and uncross my legs whenever we come to a standstill. (I believe my bruises are where they are because I had my legs crossed when the impact occurred - I can't actually remember, but I'm pretty sure). Somehow, I feel marked, and I worry that it will happen again.
The ironic part was that I was planning to get my driver's license the following Tuesday with Matthew... He had to cancel for his own reasons, but the accident scared me off from driving. Our old neighbors that I had attempted to call immediately after the crash, the Alderdices, came over a day or two after with some wonderful chicken soup. (Seriously, best soup I've ever had, ever.) Sharon explained her own car crash experiences, as did Bill, and told me that I can't hide from life just because this happened. She was right, and although I'm still hesitant to drive, let alone trust my life to other people like that, I can't avoid it...
Things are improving slowly. My mother and Jon are dealing with finances and insurance now (they only just got the ambulance and hospital bills - ambulances were around $4k total and the hospital was ~$25k total - that is a shitload of money for emergency medical care!). They're looking around for an attorney to sort things out.
When we got the police report, we learned the guy who hit us was 18-years-old and was not wearing a seatbelt (!). With us in Jon's Lincoln Navigator (a huge SUV) and him in his Toyota Sequoia (another huge SUV), the extent of the damage was easy to explain. However, the "why" was still unexplained. The boy's reason he gave to the police? He hadn't eaten all day.
No, really.
If he had some kind of medical condition, then yes, I can understand his lack of food would lead to a black out of some sort, but in that case he probably would not be allowed to drive without some restrictions. A very lame excuse, all in all, for a healthy 18-year-old. (I looked him up on Facebook and he is the normal jock type.)
My mother thinks he was texting, and I'd have to agree. He must have been looking down and drifted into our lane. This can be easily proven with phone records, and I believe my mother wants to pursue that path.
I, personally, just want to talk to him. I'm kind of angry, deep inside, but really I just want to guilt-trip him. Does he know he could have killed me, a fellow 18-year-old? Just how he is attending college, he could have erased my future completely. Poof, off the map. Or he could have taken my mother, my only parent, or even Jon! Is he aware how negligent he was being? Does he feel remorse at all? Did he ask about us, just like I asked the paramedic about him? But I can't, because of insurance...
So I'm trying to move on with my life, but it's hard. I'm haunted with these images, the movement, the smell, everything lingers and if I close my eyes, I can see it...
VerusMaya II