Hey. How you doing?
Me? Not so great.
I haven't been sleeping well at all, and I feel pretty exhausted. I'm also having a hard time reigning in my emotions. I took a cab to the hospital today, and he drove quickly - as cabbies tend to do here - down the hill from my apartment. We came to a screechy sudden stop at the bottom where there's a blind turn, and narrowly missed hitting a car that was coming through the intersection. I screamed, "FUCK!!!" and then started to cry. Granted, I wasn't wailing like a baby who needs a diaper change - my pants were still dry, in fact. But yet, there was a steady flow of tears that I just couldn't staunch. I arrived at the hospital to find that all the doctors were having lunch, and it was going to be a fifty minute wait. So I parked myself on a bench in an empty waiting area outside of the neurosurgery and (I don't know the name of the doctor who handles giant swollen bruised legs) offices. A fantastic breeze was blowing through the corridor and I just sat there and cried. I wasn't even terribly self conscious about it. A hospital's a great place to go and have a good cry. People are crying in there all the time I'm sure. Thing is, I can't be at the hospital all day long. But all day long is the duration that I feel like crying.
I feel panicked most of the time.
On Monday I went to the hospital for more X-rays and bandage changing, and I met up with my friend the car-crasher. We had to go downtown together to fill out a police report. We had Jane meet us to make sure I knew what was going on. It was pretty uneventful. My report read, "I was a passenger in my friend's car early Saturday morning. Suddenly, we crashed. I was surprised."
I don't remember what I was doing before the accident. I remember being surprised. I didn't know what was happening as I was smashing into the windshield. It wasn't until the car had settled on its side and felt water seeping in and blood dripping down my face that I figured out we weren't on the road anymore. I don't even know how long I was trapped in there. It was dark when we crashed, and it was daylight when I was in the ambulance.
It was a cat, my friend explained to the police. He'd swerved to avoid a cat. I hadn't even asked him what happened. I assumed it was the curvy wet roads and that he'd maybe taken a turn too fast. Back in the car after the police station, I turned to him and asked, "Was there really a cat?" He answered in a way that I totally believe him. Isn't it weird I pandified my face last June to avoid killing a cat as well?
Five minutes away from the station, there was a police officer in the middle of the road who waved us over. "What's wrong?" I asked. My friend pointed to the front of him where there was no seat belt. I had learned my lesson and was buckled in. Buddy got a ticket.
Tomorrow the doctor who deals with mangled legs wants to put me in a splint and on crutches. He would have done so today, but my jeans weren't loose enough to facilitate the splint. The doctor told me they'd give me hospital pants, but there's no bloody way I was going to work in those. The swelling and bruising is working its way down from my knee to my whole leg, and the doctor says if I keep doing things like walking and bending it's only going to get worse and more painful. I thought I was going to avoid a panda eye when I was still okay on Monday afternoon. I noticed some blackening in the corner after my last class, though, and woke up Tuesday morning after three hours of non-restful sleep with this:
Down at the store before work today I noticed the strap of my bag that was crossing over my chest was stained with blood. I immediately wanted to go back to the bench in the hallway at the hospital and cry some more.
At school, we had four bodies to cover classes. Only two of the six periods that make up the day had each of the three classrooms full. At any given time, one of my co-workers wasn't teaching, and more often two of them were sitting in the staffroom chatting and snacking. Sunny only taught one and a half classes today. I worked all of them. Everytime I'd hobble in there I'd seethe. When Jane criticized me for leaving the class alone to go make copies for two new students, I just about grabbed my blood soaked bag to go hobble home. Heartless. Honestly, when I'm not feeling like I'm going to cry, I'm feeling like I want to punch someone in the head. I DO NOT want to have my leg splinted tomorrow. I DON'T want crutches, but the doctor's insisting. At least I'll have something to hit people with, I guess.
Book Review: Chocky
4 hours ago