car accident 1/3/2010
This accident is old news, but I told someone that I would write about it in a particular order that's supposed to be helpful in getting over the trauma. I feel like I'm mostly over it now, but telling the story from start to finish does upset me, so I thought I'd give this a try.
When I looked out the window of the emergency room and saw Bobby pulling into the parking lot in Hannah's Subaru, I felt like I could relax. Of course, I was still periodically shaking and leaking tears, but I could allow myself to experience this part of the healing process without worrying about insurance, transportation home from the ER, contacting my parents, where the car was towed to, or how Abdullah was doing.
I remember feeling slightly nervous but reasonably confident as I started down Old County Road that morning. It had snowed a lot the day and night before, but the road and the boat shop's parking lot had both been plowed already. Abdullah was in the car with me and I knew he was eager to get to his car to check out the damage. I was going maybe 20 miles per hour as I approached the library. I eased onto the brake in anticipation of the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, but my speed did not change at all. I didn't panic, I don't know why. I realized there was no way I would be able to stop, so I decided to try to make the right turn onto 130 without stopping (the intersection was a T, so going straight ahead would have sent me off the road). But turning my steering wheel had no effect either. I saw a snow plow approaching from the left, and knew that it would hit us. I heard Abdullah say "oh no" and I don't think I froze--it felt like there was plenty of time--but I knew that I couldn't control the speed or direction of the car, so I was at peace with what I knew was about to happen.
"Oh my God! I can't believe that just happened! Are you okay?" I was looking at the airbag leaking smoke on the steering wheel, and noticed that my lap was covered in little bits of glass. I turned and saw a man outside my window (which was now missing). "You just came out of there and it was too close--I couldn't stop! Are you okay?" I said yes, I think so, and turned to look at Abdullah, who was conscious but moaning and grabbing his leg. He didn't answer my questions, but it was hard to tell what this meant, because he didn't seem to speak much English even before the accident. "Hey, do you think you should turn off the car? I don't know if it's important, but…" I turned the key with a shaky hand and the engine turned off and a chime started to sound. I tried, but couldn't remove the key. The next day I realized it was because the car wasn't in park. "I already called 911," the man said, and I thanked him. Then I asked if I could use his phone to make a call. I had lost my phone the night before, but had written the boat shop number on a scrap of paper, which was in my pocket. The phone rang and, miraculously, Bobby picked up. He showed up a few minutes later, at the same time as the first responders. I don't know who they were exactly--I don't think the ambulances arrived until later--but people climbed into the back seat of the car and held Abdullah's head and mine and talked to us. "Where do you hurt?" they asked, which is also what the EMT asked, and then the nurses in the ER. My answers were the same: the back of my head hurts, and my wrist feels burned. No, my neck doesn't hurt. When the ambulances arrived, they pulled the door off my side of the car and put me in a collar before many capable hands lowered me onto a stretcher. The responders were still trying to communicate with Abdullah about his possible injuries, so I went in the first ambulance. They strapped me down tightly, and I thought about asking the EMT to loosen the strap around my chest because I was struggling against it to breathe, but I think that taking shallower breaths helped me to calm down a bit.
Once in the emergency room, the kind doctor asked me questions about whether my neck was hurting or had hurt earlier, and she decided it would be safe to remove the collar. When the collar was off, it became apparent that the back of my head was bleeding. I never saw any blood, and I didn't try to. I'm curious, now, but at the time I was grateful to let other people worry about how to fix me.
When I got home I was tired, feeling greasy from plane flights and taxi rides, feeling shy and full of shame. I minimized my interactions with other people and went to bed with an ice pack for my leg, which was quickly developing an enormous lump on the shin.
After a week of limping around, it became too painful to even stand on my leg. A fellow apprentice gave me Vicodin to help me sleep until I could go back to the hospital the next day. I spent the next two weeks wrapping, elevating, and icing my leg, and limping around on crutches only when necessary. As it was, I felt pretty discouraged and isolated being stuck in my room or the library all day, but the people here made it way better than it could have been. It's been almost six weeks now and I still have a lumpy bruise on my leg, but it's getting smaller, and it doesn't hurt to walk anymore.
When I looked out the window of the emergency room and saw Bobby pulling into the parking lot in Hannah's Subaru, I felt like I could relax. Of course, I was still periodically shaking and leaking tears, but I could allow myself to experience this part of the healing process without worrying about insurance, transportation home from the ER, contacting my parents, where the car was towed to, or how Abdullah was doing.
I remember feeling slightly nervous but reasonably confident as I started down Old County Road that morning. It had snowed a lot the day and night before, but the road and the boat shop's parking lot had both been plowed already. Abdullah was in the car with me and I knew he was eager to get to his car to check out the damage. I was going maybe 20 miles per hour as I approached the library. I eased onto the brake in anticipation of the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, but my speed did not change at all. I didn't panic, I don't know why. I realized there was no way I would be able to stop, so I decided to try to make the right turn onto 130 without stopping (the intersection was a T, so going straight ahead would have sent me off the road). But turning my steering wheel had no effect either. I saw a snow plow approaching from the left, and knew that it would hit us. I heard Abdullah say "oh no" and I don't think I froze--it felt like there was plenty of time--but I knew that I couldn't control the speed or direction of the car, so I was at peace with what I knew was about to happen.
"Oh my God! I can't believe that just happened! Are you okay?" I was looking at the airbag leaking smoke on the steering wheel, and noticed that my lap was covered in little bits of glass. I turned and saw a man outside my window (which was now missing). "You just came out of there and it was too close--I couldn't stop! Are you okay?" I said yes, I think so, and turned to look at Abdullah, who was conscious but moaning and grabbing his leg. He didn't answer my questions, but it was hard to tell what this meant, because he didn't seem to speak much English even before the accident. "Hey, do you think you should turn off the car? I don't know if it's important, but…" I turned the key with a shaky hand and the engine turned off and a chime started to sound. I tried, but couldn't remove the key. The next day I realized it was because the car wasn't in park. "I already called 911," the man said, and I thanked him. Then I asked if I could use his phone to make a call. I had lost my phone the night before, but had written the boat shop number on a scrap of paper, which was in my pocket. The phone rang and, miraculously, Bobby picked up. He showed up a few minutes later, at the same time as the first responders. I don't know who they were exactly--I don't think the ambulances arrived until later--but people climbed into the back seat of the car and held Abdullah's head and mine and talked to us. "Where do you hurt?" they asked, which is also what the EMT asked, and then the nurses in the ER. My answers were the same: the back of my head hurts, and my wrist feels burned. No, my neck doesn't hurt. When the ambulances arrived, they pulled the door off my side of the car and put me in a collar before many capable hands lowered me onto a stretcher. The responders were still trying to communicate with Abdullah about his possible injuries, so I went in the first ambulance. They strapped me down tightly, and I thought about asking the EMT to loosen the strap around my chest because I was struggling against it to breathe, but I think that taking shallower breaths helped me to calm down a bit.
Once in the emergency room, the kind doctor asked me questions about whether my neck was hurting or had hurt earlier, and she decided it would be safe to remove the collar. When the collar was off, it became apparent that the back of my head was bleeding. I never saw any blood, and I didn't try to. I'm curious, now, but at the time I was grateful to let other people worry about how to fix me.
When I got home I was tired, feeling greasy from plane flights and taxi rides, feeling shy and full of shame. I minimized my interactions with other people and went to bed with an ice pack for my leg, which was quickly developing an enormous lump on the shin.
After a week of limping around, it became too painful to even stand on my leg. A fellow apprentice gave me Vicodin to help me sleep until I could go back to the hospital the next day. I spent the next two weeks wrapping, elevating, and icing my leg, and limping around on crutches only when necessary. As it was, I felt pretty discouraged and isolated being stuck in my room or the library all day, but the people here made it way better than it could have been. It's been almost six weeks now and I still have a lumpy bruise on my leg, but it's getting smaller, and it doesn't hurt to walk anymore.
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