Remember how I was committed 155% to posting here consistently, daily—when possible? I was all "never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you?" Well, I'm sad to report that that—along with all of my Rick-rolling—came to a screeching halt last Tuesday night.
It was just after 10 p.m., and David and I left our friends' house to head home for the night. It is important to note that we live a mere three minutes from said friends. David was in the driver's seat and I was in the passenger seat, keeping up my usual routine of talking a mile a minute, while also texting (therein annoying David.) Anyway, David sees a car speeding up behind him in the right lane, so he turns his clicker on and gets into the left lane. About 30 seconds later—CRASH heard 'round the...county.
Me: *Screams* Oh my god, wh-what happened?! *Hyperventilates*
David: It's OK, It's OK, are you OK?
Me: *Crying* What? No? Yes? Yes, I'm OK.
David: *Superhero Mode* In a flash of light, he speeds to the other car, and pulls the driver out of the window of his now-obliterated car. Suddenly, Super David is in costume, cape and all.* (Despite the craziness, I was able to capture a photo of him in action:)
(In case you were wondering, his secret super powers are: caterpillar eyebrows and a scepter that shoots out poisonous stale Halloween candy from 1989.)
So I called 911, and after being asked 20 questions (which made me wonder, if my arm was falling off, would he do the same? Asking me how many drips of blood are falling per second, and which way the wind is blowing?) the operator said the police and an ambulance were on the way.
It's strange how emergency situations mess with time; somehow it seemed both in slow-motion and speeding out of control. (Oh wait, that was the other guy.) Before I knew it, my neck was being stabilized by a studly EMT—I'm talking Boris Kodjoe, here—and I was being put in a neck brace and transferred onto what has become known as "the board" in our house. The same was done to David, and in the pouring rain we were loaded into one ambulance and taken to a nearby hospital.
Aside from the EMTs corny jokes and unsuccessful attempts at keeping me calm, my favorite parts of the ride include: one of the EMTs declining his girlfriend's call on his cell phone and saying, "It's OK, when I tell her I was saving a husband and a wife, she won't get mad at me." And the other EMT finding out that I love to read and urging me to check out the latest collection of fantasy novels he's in to. And then the two of them telling every person we encountered once at the ER that we were husband and wife and HAD to be kept together.
Those boys didn't have much sway, because after being wheeled into the ER, I didn't see David again until almost 2 a.m.
What would follow included at least 4 hours strapped down to "the board." A word or two on "the board," is now needed. Have you ever been on the board??????? Who designed the board?????????? Has he/she ever been on the board?????????? Why is it legal?????? Does anyone really think that after falling, getting hit, passing out, etc., the board is going to KEEP you from being injured further????? It was by far the most uncomfortable experience of my life, and it should be known here that I had to have a catheter put in while in the ER. 'Nuff said. I would have done anything to get off of there, I would have even told my sweet Colin that we were living in a fantasy world and I could never see him again. I would have punched a puppy, maybe... OK probably not but I might have like, put it in its bed for a really long time with no snuggles. The board was death, and I soon understood torture and immediately respected every person who had ever lived to see life on the other side of the board.
We had CATscans and I had xrays, and we waited and waited, mostly we spent our time waiting, and then finally we were told we were all right, and were taken off the GD board, and taken out of the GD collar and we were semi-normal again. Aside from the fact that the driver who hit us was: not only going twice the speed limit and was under the influence BUT he had no insurance, and was an arse of epic porportions. (They didn't have to tell us that last part.)
What would follow would be pain killers, two days off of work, motrin motrin motrin, Rooney eating one of my motrins, emergency vet appointment, so.much.vomit, lots of sleep, lots of take out for dinner and PAIN. Mother-loving pain.
So, here I am, one week later and my shoulder is still sore, my neck is tight, the back-end of my car is basically being rebuilt, insurance is covering everything (Big Ups to Progressive!) and I am being tested for thyroid problems because the ER called me back on Friday and said the Radiologist spotted inconsistencies in my thyroid in my xrays. Grand. At least after The Crash of '29 they still had Jay Gatsby and flapper dresses—oh and everyone looked good with bob haircuts. I have a sore shoulder and no clean clothes.
Did you ever read my post on Murphy's Law? I wasn't kidding.
Tonight David leaves again for a quick trip down to Wilmington, and I venture to small group alone. Here's to hoping I make it there and back in one piece. But, Lord, if I don't and something else happens to me, at least send Boris Kodjoe to my rescue again. That's all for now. Please and thanks.
P.S.: After my Colin Confession, I promised David I would devote my next post to him in all of his wonderful glory, but then all of this happened. So, even though I do highlight his courageous superhero-ness here (This is not the first time David's Spidey senses have emerged. In college he pulled a woman from a burning car, and also survived being car-jacked at gunpoint. More on that later.) please expect to see a fitting post on my wonderful hubby soon. <3