We can rebuild him... we have the technology...
-from the series The Six Million Dollar Man
Hello my lovelies... however many there are of you.
I was unable to write an update Monday due to the fact that I was otherwise occupied and then life took a turn for the bummed and depressed so now it's been a week, and I haven't posted a thing.
And I just feel horrible... as well as a little apathetic since life has been poopy lately, but mostly I've felt horrible and unaccomplished.
Before I go any further, let me tell you that I have no story blog updates... but trust me, I have a good reason.
So a little over a week ago I was heading to Fresno to visit family. The plan was to get to my mother's house Friday night after work, then my brother and his family would pick me up the following morning in the rental car, and we'd head out to SoCal to visit our grandmother.
Here's what actually happened.
So I made it into Fresno, and while crossing an intersection about two blocks from my mother's place, a dude in a pickup ran a red light and slammed into the driver side of my car. Thinking about it now, yes it was scary - quite frightening, in fact. The moment I saw the headlights, I thought to hit the gas, but it was too late. He hit the back end of the driver side of my Liberty (poor Libby), I spun, (I think I hopped the median though I'm not sure), and stopped at a fifteen-ish degree angle facing the Starbucks that would have been on my right pre-collisiom (then on my left post-collision) facing the lane of oncoming traffic. Fortunately it was around 1:30am so there wasn't any traffic. The only other car I can recall was a compact/midsize car that stopped facing my car and put its hazards on.
Completely wigged out, I shoved the car into park and cut the engine and then proceeded to sit there breathing like some spazzed out horror flick victim. I didn't officially start crying until sometime between opening my door and calling my mother. I was staring down into the car - floorboard, lower dash, etc - not really looking at anything, just zoning out as I freaked out while that part of my brain tried to find my frontal lobe to start calming me the frak out.
There was someone at my door trying to get in, and I reached out without really looking and opened the door. Immediately there was a male voice asking if I was all right and trying to calm me down. I excused myself to call my mother who showed up being as emotional as she usually is but this time there was a reason - her daughter almost got T-boned by a truck. Other police (and by other I mean in addition to the guy that was checking on me after I'd been hit... he's a deputy who was off-duty and witnessed the whole thing... he was even the one that called in the incident and sent for an ambulance and all that) and medics showed up. I was on again, off again crying my ass off but still answering questions. I was in shock and rollercoastering from small sniffles to full blown bawling. I had been asked if my legs were all right and if I could step out of the car. At the moment my car had stopped, the right side of my chest hurt and my left leg from knee to shin was warm and weird-feeling... like it was itchy but with no need to scratch it.
Standing beside my car trying desperately to calm down, I noticed blood on my jeans near my knee. My leg had hit the dash/door. I pulled up the pant leg and saw a small portion of skin (about the size of a dime or so and was kinda juicy) had been scraped off and some of the blood smeared across my knee and down the left side of my shin/calf. An EMT guy came over to apply a band-aid I requested as well as the ice pack since my leg felt warm.
Then there was the matter of finding my wallet.
A while ago, I had transferred some things to a small black change purse in an attempt to minimize space in my backpack for a road trip I'd gone on. I never transferred the stuff back to my main wallet and instead had been carrying both in my purse. My purse was sitting on the passenger seat open and when I was hit, everything in my car was shaken like a tornado martini. (It was eventually found the next day at the tow yard wedged between the wall of the car and the backseat on the passenger side. It was stuck pretty good, too.)
We unloaded as much as we could from my car to my mom's husband's car and then left the scene after being given a business card from the police with the accident report number on it and the card from the tow truck driver.
By the time we got to my mom's, my chest was hurting a little more, and I had called my brother to let him know our SoCal plans were canceled due to the accident and most likely needing to take care of things. My mom and her husband were unloading my stuff from his car to my room. My brother offered to take me to the hospital if I needed it, and I didn't think I did, but then ended up calling him back since it hurt to bend at the waist as well as to breathe (mostly sniffles and short intakes of breath hurt the bruisey feeling on my chest). My mom tagged along (she drove), and we ended up at Kaiser ER. The doctor checked my legs by placing his hand at each of my feet and telling me to press against it. I was reclined at a 10-15 degree angle in the bed, and the nurse had placed her hand on my chest wanting to see if it hurt to breathe, but when she barely touched me, I yelped before I could take a breath and she told me to nevermind. Paranoid, I had a chest x-ray taken, and nothing showed up in it. They cleaned up my knee and bandaged it (which had soaked through pretty quick). My mom got my prescription as I changed back into my clothes and then with hospital-slippered feet hobbled back to the car, and then eventually we were on our way home.
My mom REALLY wanted me to take my meds (hydrocodone-acetaminophen), but I don't think they're working. Years ago when my Honda was magically transformed into an accordion thanks to a compact car slamming me into a pickup, the ER doctor gave me Vicodin, Soma and 800mg Ibuprofen. That little cocktail helped my muscles to relax, but it didn't make me sleepy. And now here I am all battered and bruised, and I just get hydrocodone. I'm not looking for drugs or anything, but I find it interesting that this accident (at least in my opinion) is a little more serious and yet I get weaker meds.
That's how it feels anyway.
So that night I changed into my jammies and my mom really wanting me to start taking my meds made me something to eat (chicken adobo and rice) which I called my insurance to report the accident. Since I can't afford much in the way of car insurance, I got the basis coverage which I've had for a little while but had no collision so they were not able to cover a rental or anything. They told me that I would have to go through the other dude's insurance.
Since I'm in a bad mood, we're going to call him SHITHEAD.
Got up, made some phone calls, nothing happened. Everyone kept asking if I had SHITHEAD's information, and I kept saying, "No. I was a little hysterical at the moment, and in trying to calm down only spoke with the medics and police." Turns out, I couldn't get a copy of the police report until Monday since the records office was only open Monday to Friday, 7am to 2:30pm. As far as the claim stuff went, I kept getting bounced around from Farmers person/office to Farmers person/office. Meanwhile, I got a hold of the tow truck guy, and my brother took me to get the remaining personal effects out of my poor Libby.
Seeing her in the daylight made me sad.
Since I pretty much had to wait until Monday to really DO anything, my brother took me back to his place where I got to spend time with my niece. Hugs from her made me feel lots better. We played Legos and hung out. I had some coffee and tried my brother's latest brew. Then my mom called wanting me to come home cuz she was making tacos for dinner, and she wanted me to take my meds (which I left in my room). So he took me back to my mom's where I had tacos and drugs and then later hooked up with my bro to see "Skyfall"... of which we were rushing, and the meds made me a little nauseous. I managed to make it through the movie, but ended up having my bro pull over so I could upchuck a little near a parking lot hedge.
Yeah. Not one of my sexier moments.
He then took me home, and I slept off my icky feeling.
Turns out the meds the ER doc gave me weren't doing anything but making me feel ickier than I already was - nausea, tummy upset, bathroom issues, etc. So I stopped taking them.
So where are we at now? Ah yes, Super Bowl Sunday.
My mom and her husband went to church while I caught up on sleep. I was still flinching at the imagined headlights barreling down on me so that mixed with insomnia made me ever so energetic. When they got back from church, my mother took me to run errands. First it was lunch at a rennovated and newly styled Chinese restaurant. (I was happy. I had lots of shrimp. I even tried a frog leg. Not all that impressive.) After lunch (where she repeatedly counted down the time until her Super Bowl), she took me to get tubs for all the things that were in my room back at the condo (we got two at Big Lots). I passed out when we got back home, and I slept through the game. I think I woke up toward the end of the it, and my mom was so excited claiming the Niners were going to win... and then they didn't.
I can't honestly remember if we went to Walgreens (where I got BB Cream and hair goo) and Whole Foods (where I got some chia seeds shots) that day or Monday.
I had texted my manager and landlady after I woke up later Saturday, and they were worried and understanding. I told my manager that I most likely would be missing Monday in hopes of getting this insurance thing settled so I could get a car and head out of dodge...
And then Monday happened.
I called the police station and spoke to some lady who forwarded me to the proper department, and then that lady told me that the report hadn't been closed and could take a few days. I babbled a little and the woman (who sounded a little like a sweet grandmother that smoked too much) put me on hold. When she got back on the line, she said she contacted the person who was in charge of closing the report, and she closed it, making it ready for me to pick up. My mom and her husband took me downtown where once there, I had to pick a number like I was at the bakery or butcher, and wait my turn. I think I was 76 and they were on 71 at the time. My number was called, I showed my ID and paperwork, and I got the report. Reading it on the way home, I laughed since first is SHITHEAD saying he didn't know what was going on or what color the light was when he crossed into the intersection. The chic with him said the same thing. Then there was my "I had a green light and he hit me" bit.
What made LOL! was the off-duty deputy's statement saying SHITHEAD ran the red, hit me, and the conclusion was that it was SHITHEAD's fault.
From the report, I got the name of his insurance and called. We added my information onto the claim and then I was transferred to so many people before getting the number to the insurance chic that was assigned the claim. She ended up calling me JUST at the end of the day to tell me that she could not get a hold of SHITHEAD which meant they couldn't pay right out for the car for me until they got a hold of him to complete their investigation. It's also around this time where this lady is telling me things like they don't do direct billing, that I might get reimbursed for some stuff, that since I wasn't physically unable to work (aside from not being able to get there), I most likely wouldn't get reimbursed for the time I missed... which was actually TWO days, a full eight hours EACH day.
I thought I could be mature and patient and not get bitchy... but dammit, I couldn't help it. I was seriously considering lawyering up.
I eventually left Tuesday after getting a rental car all on my own. Gave the car place the claim number and all the pertinent information. I'm supposed to call them when the claim is sorted so we can combine the reservation they set up for me with mine and then... TA DA! I don't have to pay for anything... and I just have to wait to get my deposit back.
I saw Margrit C (aka Seester) for coffee. We saw the acrilmyde (or however you spell it) sign AFTER we had our fraps, and I thought, "Damn. I don't want cancer. Guess I can't have Starbucks anymore." Then I went to see my brother and his family for a quick visit before heading out. Told them about the warning sign, and apparently McDonald's has a similar warning for some of their stuff. (Carcinogens that are activated by heat and have been known to cause cancer.) So it looks like no more McD's for me either.
Spent time with my niece and then headed out stopping off at an AMPM to fuel up and get snacks. The little compact car is so... weird compared to Libby. (I will miss her.)
The next three days I worked. Some people knew about the accident and asked after my well-being. Others didn't know and wondered where I had been and then felt bad for teasing and giving me crap. I walked about in a very unattractive gimpy lacking pimp walk way and then on Friday I headed to my storage unit (which I hadn't been to in ages), and some things had changed. Now the elevator has a keypad where you have to punch in your gatecode to gain access to the building. My unit is on the third floor. Then I saw that there was another lock on my door so I could not unload the junk in my trunk into my unit. Grumbly, I left a message on the office machine and plan to head back sometime this week.
After storage fail, I headed to the hospital to get my leg looked at since it was getting more and more uncomfortable when the rest of me seemed to be healing nicely (although slowly). I qualified for "rapid care" and the physician's assistant that saw me (nice lady) signed me up to get an ultrasound on my leg (in case of a blood clot) and then an x-ray to check for broken bones. Never had an ultrasound before so THAT was an experience. And the x-ray was one of those "lay down and we'll position the camera over you and not in a porno kind of way" deals where I found myself thinking about the radiation sequence in the original Hulk TV series.
From my "room" to each test, I was wheeled around in what looked like a wheelchair and one of those old lady mesh shopping carts had a baby and voila! There I was... sailing through the halls... being left next to some yellow sign and a string that was pretty much "in case of patient distress, yank this and we'll come running". I thought that was hilarious and incredibly low tech but whatevs.
In the end, the assessment was that I had a contusion and it was going to get worse before it got better and that I had to elevate it and ice it and take lots of ibuprofen to bring down the swelling. (Joy.)
I hit a Wienerschnitzel on the way out of town and BOOM!... on the road again back to Fresno.
As I got closer and closer to town, two voices in my mind started to have a discussion. One voice wanted me to go the long way around to my mom's avoiding the evil intersection of doom. The other wanted me to confront it and not give it the satisfaction of intimidating me. I ended up going through it (Yay me!) and made it to my mom's safe and sound.
Saturday was my niece's big birthday party complete with bouncy house and other kids and lots of family and friends. I was kind of sad that I didn't get to play in the bouncy house due to the whole leg thing, but fun was still had. I got my facepainted Hello Kitty style to match Bella, and by the end of the day, I was too pooped to pep. Margrit ended up not making it so I headed to her place to see how she was (pinched nerve, neck issues) as well as to show off my makeup. We caught up some before I left for my mom's to pass out.
Sunday was laundry, packing, visiting with my bro and his family (aka playing Legos with Bella), visiting with Margrit and then running a couple of errands (like gassing up the car as well as getting ibuprofen and lip balm) before heading home.
Tonight I closed. I got up early enough to stop off at the post office as well as the store to see about a thin accordion type folder to put all my car accident stuff in. Didn't find any and figured I'd just make my way to work. I got a phone call halfway there from a number I didn't recognize and sent it to voicemail. When I parked at work with 20-30 minutes to spare, I listened to the message only to hear that it was the car rental place wanting more money for the rental. I immediately called the lawyer and he connected me with one of his associates to try and help with the car issue. I sent him the police report along with my contact information. By the end of his work day, he could not reach the insurance chic or her supervisor... but manage to talk to the car rental place and get me a couple days off from being hassled again.
I checked my claim online - no progress.
My email said they had received my faxed police report and would get back to me in 72 hours or some bullshit like that.
I'm just fed up!
HE HIT ME!
HE HURT ME!
HE DID A BAD THING!
I don't wish him dead or anything, but dammit... it feels like I'm the only one doing anything. SHITHEAD hasn't been able to be reached. Insurance chic said of all the times she tried to reach him, she spoke to his mother WHO WASN'T EVEN THERE but said that she heard he ran a red light... but then that means nothing since it's hearsay. (When she said that to me, I thought, "Really? You need to tell me that? I know it's not admissable for frak sakes.")
Me: I'm assuming you can't move forward with the claim until you talk to him.
Insurance Chic: No.
Me: So what if you continue being unable to reach him? What do you do then?
IC: Then we proceed with our investigation without their statement. But people don't normally like that so I'm sure I'll reach them soon.
Me: (feeling doubtful) Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkay...
SHITHEAD's contact info is listed on the report. A part of my brain wants to use this information.... but I won't. As it is, since I'm seeking legal assistance, I don't think I'll be talking to anyone anymore until this is over.
Man... once I feel more up to snuff than I do now, I need to spar with someone... or shoot something... or destroy something...
As it is, my back aches and hurts a bit in various places... and my impending power loss isn't making me feel any better.
The suckiest thing about this whole ordeal is that I don't have the urge the write. Usually it's just that I'm tired but the ideas are still there wanting out of my head. Now? I don't even want to look at or think about my story blogs... and I've been taking my notebook with me wherever I go, but nothing happens. Just a moment ago, I held a pen to a blank page and nothing - no ideas, no dialogue, no desire.
Something is seriously wrong with me, and I don't like it. I really don't.
Okay, this post has become a bit longer than I thought it would be. As it was, it's taken me days to write so I've been out of commission for a week. I'll try and keep these posts up and about, but I can't promise anything. Maybe I'll be dumb for the rest of the month and then March will bring better tidings (or bigger cocktails).
Later my lovelies.