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That entry pushing Sean's novel was very nearly the last one I ever wrote.
Before I begin, I'll spare you the unpleasant kind of suspense and say that I'm alive (obviously) and unhurt (as confirmed by four hours worth of poking, prodding, and X-Rays).
Yesterday I drove to Santa Clarita for a day job sales visit. While driving back, southbound in the middle land on the 405 freeway, a red pick-up truck attempted to move into my lane on top of me. I must have been in its blind spot. I swerved into the empty right lane, but went too fast. The car started fishtailing out of control.
I've had the experience before, in dangerous situations which, in retrospect, were not half as close calls as this one, of having time seem to slow down. Time did not seem to slow down this time. Everything seemed to be happening incredibly fast, which is how it actually was happening. I struggled with the car, trying to wrestle it on to the shoulder, but I could tell that it was stronger than I was. It was like riding a runaway horse. It skidded on to the shoulder, hit the curb, and flew off the freeway. Branches slammed into the windshield, the car turned upside down in the air, the roof hit the ground, and the car flipped over again and came down embedded in a thicket of shrubs and little trees. Rosanne Cash's "10 Song Demo" was still playing.
I've been trying to remember exactly what I was thinking when the car went airborn. I remember that up until that point I was concentrating on trying to get it back under control. I guess I must have been frightened, but I don't remember feeling anything exactly like what I usually know as fear. I don't remember thinking that I was going to die or might die, either. All I recall in terms of conscious thought was something like, "Oh my God, my car's rolling, there's going to be a hell of a crash."
When the car landed, both my knees banged into the front. I had my left arm and hand braced against the roof and my right on the steering wheel. I decided not to try to move in case I had back or neck injuries, especially since, I figured, paramedics should be there any moment. After a minute or so, I turned off the ignition and put the car in park. The car was buried in shrubbery and I couldn't see the freeway out the back window, which was shattered. When no one showed up after another minute, I decided to call 911 on my cell phone. The phone was in my purse, which had rolled forward in front of the passenger seat. I couldn't reach it without unbuckling my seatbelt (I was wearing both lap and shoulder belts) but by then I was pretty sure I hadn't broken my neck. I unsnapped it and leaned forward. The car was so crushed that it was hard to maneuver.
Someone yelled, "Hey! Are you all right?" Two thirtysomething black guys were struggling through the bushes to my car. I said I thought so, and asked them if an ambulance had arrived. When they said no I decided to get out of the car. I handed them my purse and gym bag with my gi and brown belt, and they helped me climb out the rear window and get back to the shoulder. The car was fifty feet or so off the freeway, and completely demolished. About the only parts that weren't destroyed were the seats. Oddly, neither the side nor front airbags deployed, even though there were both side and front impacts.
Another car had also pulled over, this one with a grandmotherly black lady and two boys, a teenager and a little kid. She had seen the whole thing and was amazed that I was alive, let alone walking on my own power. Unfortunately, she said the truck had started to slow, then thought better of it and speeded up. Also unfortunately, I forgot to ask any of the witnesses to stick around once the firefighters and cops showed up, or to get their names and numbers. I just thanked them and told them I was in good hands now. (I also informed her little boy that he should always think of me and remember to wear his seatbelt.)
After listening to the cops, firefighters, and EMTs say, "You _walked_ out of _that_? That's a miracle/You should be dead/man, you are one tough cookie/I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time," I decided to take their advice and go to the hospital. Four boring hours and many repetitions of what happened (mine) and statements that I was incredibly lucky (theirs) I got a ride back home.
Where I discovered that (I'm going to be vague here on the off-chance that there's legal stuff involved) due to paperwork issues, ownership of car issues, and my own carelessness, this will not be covered by insurance and I am going to have to personally cough up the price of a new Honda Civic. At that point I gave myself the injury which hurts most this morning, a huge bruise on my hand where I slammed it into the wall.
However, on morning's reflection, that sucks but it's not like it's going to drive me into bankruptcy or anything. (I'll just cross my fingers extra hard that someone options my book.) And if I'd shattered my knee instead of just bruising it, I would have gladly paid everything I had to put it back together again. Never mind what I'd have paid, if I could, for my life.
The funny thing is, what this brought home to me-- that we're all living on the volcano's edge, and that we should treasure every single breath because you just never know which will be your last-- are lessons that I already know. That I live by and I've known for years. I already understand on a personal gut level how precious and fragile life is. I already treasure every breath.
But it was nice to hear from a couple of friends last night how much they would have missed me.
Before I begin, I'll spare you the unpleasant kind of suspense and say that I'm alive (obviously) and unhurt (as confirmed by four hours worth of poking, prodding, and X-Rays).
Yesterday I drove to Santa Clarita for a day job sales visit. While driving back, southbound in the middle land on the 405 freeway, a red pick-up truck attempted to move into my lane on top of me. I must have been in its blind spot. I swerved into the empty right lane, but went too fast. The car started fishtailing out of control.
I've had the experience before, in dangerous situations which, in retrospect, were not half as close calls as this one, of having time seem to slow down. Time did not seem to slow down this time. Everything seemed to be happening incredibly fast, which is how it actually was happening. I struggled with the car, trying to wrestle it on to the shoulder, but I could tell that it was stronger than I was. It was like riding a runaway horse. It skidded on to the shoulder, hit the curb, and flew off the freeway. Branches slammed into the windshield, the car turned upside down in the air, the roof hit the ground, and the car flipped over again and came down embedded in a thicket of shrubs and little trees. Rosanne Cash's "10 Song Demo" was still playing.
I've been trying to remember exactly what I was thinking when the car went airborn. I remember that up until that point I was concentrating on trying to get it back under control. I guess I must have been frightened, but I don't remember feeling anything exactly like what I usually know as fear. I don't remember thinking that I was going to die or might die, either. All I recall in terms of conscious thought was something like, "Oh my God, my car's rolling, there's going to be a hell of a crash."
When the car landed, both my knees banged into the front. I had my left arm and hand braced against the roof and my right on the steering wheel. I decided not to try to move in case I had back or neck injuries, especially since, I figured, paramedics should be there any moment. After a minute or so, I turned off the ignition and put the car in park. The car was buried in shrubbery and I couldn't see the freeway out the back window, which was shattered. When no one showed up after another minute, I decided to call 911 on my cell phone. The phone was in my purse, which had rolled forward in front of the passenger seat. I couldn't reach it without unbuckling my seatbelt (I was wearing both lap and shoulder belts) but by then I was pretty sure I hadn't broken my neck. I unsnapped it and leaned forward. The car was so crushed that it was hard to maneuver.
Someone yelled, "Hey! Are you all right?" Two thirtysomething black guys were struggling through the bushes to my car. I said I thought so, and asked them if an ambulance had arrived. When they said no I decided to get out of the car. I handed them my purse and gym bag with my gi and brown belt, and they helped me climb out the rear window and get back to the shoulder. The car was fifty feet or so off the freeway, and completely demolished. About the only parts that weren't destroyed were the seats. Oddly, neither the side nor front airbags deployed, even though there were both side and front impacts.
Another car had also pulled over, this one with a grandmotherly black lady and two boys, a teenager and a little kid. She had seen the whole thing and was amazed that I was alive, let alone walking on my own power. Unfortunately, she said the truck had started to slow, then thought better of it and speeded up. Also unfortunately, I forgot to ask any of the witnesses to stick around once the firefighters and cops showed up, or to get their names and numbers. I just thanked them and told them I was in good hands now. (I also informed her little boy that he should always think of me and remember to wear his seatbelt.)
After listening to the cops, firefighters, and EMTs say, "You _walked_ out of _that_? That's a miracle/You should be dead/man, you are one tough cookie/I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time," I decided to take their advice and go to the hospital. Four boring hours and many repetitions of what happened (mine) and statements that I was incredibly lucky (theirs) I got a ride back home.
Where I discovered that (I'm going to be vague here on the off-chance that there's legal stuff involved) due to paperwork issues, ownership of car issues, and my own carelessness, this will not be covered by insurance and I am going to have to personally cough up the price of a new Honda Civic. At that point I gave myself the injury which hurts most this morning, a huge bruise on my hand where I slammed it into the wall.
However, on morning's reflection, that sucks but it's not like it's going to drive me into bankruptcy or anything. (I'll just cross my fingers extra hard that someone options my book.) And if I'd shattered my knee instead of just bruising it, I would have gladly paid everything I had to put it back together again. Never mind what I'd have paid, if I could, for my life.
The funny thing is, what this brought home to me-- that we're all living on the volcano's edge, and that we should treasure every single breath because you just never know which will be your last-- are lessons that I already know. That I live by and I've known for years. I already understand on a personal gut level how precious and fragile life is. I already treasure every breath.
But it was nice to hear from a couple of friends last night how much they would have missed me.
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Thank you Goddess
I will be thanking Goddess multiple times today. Take it easy and take care of yourself.
*gentle hugs*
Mia
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I don't actually know how to drive yet, but one time Joe, a friend, and I were in a car headed to a gaming convention and the friend, who was driving after too many hours up (in retrospect, we should've given ourselves another day to get there, and spent the night at a motel or something), lost control of the car--not as badly as you describe, but we went spinning across the road and off onto the grassy thing in the middle. I remember thinking for one dead-calm second: If there's a truck coming up behind us, we are DEAD. But it was in the wee hours, and there wasn't, and the car was okay, and we went on. I was surprised, in retrospect, that I didn't panic...
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Thanks for the good wishes.
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I wonder whether the martial arts prowess helped with your muscles' reaction to the crash. When I was in a lesser accident (which totaled a '69 Oldsmobile), I braced myself against the car and was stiff for two weeks afterwards.
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Pamela
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Glad you're okay.
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I don't know if it's worth it, but you might try calling a lawyer. The fact that the airbags didn't deploy could be leverage to get the car company to cough up some money towards a replacement, at least. And maybe it can at least be sold for scrap?
But yeah -- walking away fine is worth far more than the cost of the car, and harder to buy.
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I don't know if it holds true for people *in* cars that crash, but when I was hit by a car earlier this year the aches and pains didn't achieve their full splendor for about three days, at which point I woke up in the morning, feeling, well, like I'd been hit by a car. When I went to the doctor fearing they'd missed something, she said that this often happens because the pain-killing effects of adrenaline can take a while to work out of the system. So if you find yourself suddenly feeling more bruised than you were, don't worry unless it is really persistent; odds are nothing's wrong.
Have fun at the anime expo!
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I flipped a car once. It was a Honda Civic, too, and only three weeks old. It slithered on ice, slammed over onto the driver's side, and then, oddly enough, bounced back onto the tires. All I remember was screaming and the horrendous noise.
And yes, I walked away utterly unscathed, thanks to my seatbelt.
I'm so glad you are well.
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So glad you are all right!
And may the driver of the red pickup never endanger another life again!
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Take care of yourself, good luck getting the logistics straightened out (and if you can spare the time and energy--what the hell was up with the airbags?!), and be well.
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---L.
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