- I am not seriously injured.
- I was driving a rental car, so my car was not totaled. My car is still in the shop having maintenance done, thanks be to whichever imp of the perverse was off duty. Actually, now that I think about it, thanks to Dale getting pissy when I told him I wasn't going to have the gas gauge fixed because it was $400. If he'd been okay with that, I'd have picked up my car yesterday evening and it would have been my car that was totaled.
- I bought the damage waiver when I rented the car. I almost never do that, but there was this voice in the back of my head saying, "If you get the insurance, you won't need it." Mind you, if I track down the imp that was responsible for phrasing it that way, I may strangle the damn thing.
- Damage waiver notwithstanding, I'm probably going to have to dick around with insurance companies.
- I left my parking hangtag (which is expensive to replace) and the red dot "park anywhere" pass (which is irreplaceable until August) in the rental car, and I'm not sure where the car was towed. I'll call Enterprise back tomorrow and see if they've found it.
- I'm a hurty puppy, and I know from experience I'm going to be a hurtier puppy tomorrow.
At least this time I didn't lose consciousness, which means I'm not going to spend the next eight years obsessing over whether I said anything inappropriate to anyone before the censors came back online. I did apologize to the firefighter I cussed at (he asked, "Where do you want the car towed?" and I burst into tears and said, "I don't know, it's a goddamn rental! I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell at you, but I need to call them and find out what to do.")
What happened: I drove down to the Kingston Pike Building (aka the Metron Building) at lunch to drop off some paperwork. As I was pulling out of the driveway to turn left onto Cumberland -- with a green light -- a pickup truck came sailing through the red light and t-boned me on the driver's side. I know I remember seeing him come through the intersection; I think I remember punching the gas to see if I could get past him, but I'm not positive about that. Both side airbags deployed; the front ones did not. The driver's side door was crunched in, although rather to my surprise the window glass didn't break. The other driver admitted full fault to me; I assume he said the same thing to the police. I never saw him, but the conversation went like this:
Him: Are you okay?
Me: I really don't know; I'm in shock. I don't think I'm bleeding.
Him: Someone's calling 911.
Him: My brakes, I just slid through the intersection.
And then a UT maintenance crew opened the door on the passenger side, and asked if I wanted to get out. I always forget that it's really not a good idea to move; the "need to be out of traffic" thought is always much stronger. Anyway, I got over onto the passenger side, and sat there while someone put my phone back together (it flew across the passenger seat and the battery popped out).
I called my office to say that I wasn't coming back from lunch and why.
I called Dale to tell him I'd been in an accident and would call back after the police were done with me, that I was going to go to the ER, probably to UT Medical Center since it's close and on my insurance. I swore at him, too, when I realized the pickup truck was moving off to the side. I believe my exact words were, "Goddammit, the son-of-a-bitch who hit me is still driveable that's not fair."
I swore at the nice fireman and apologized to him. No, wait, I think that was earlier.
I called Enterprise and told them I'd been in an accident and asked where they wanted the car towed. I have no idea if it actually went there or somewhere else, because I was on a backboard and possibly in the ambulance by the time the tow truck arrived.
Through all of this I was alternating between relatively calm and lucid, and shaking and crying but lucid.
The ambulance and paramedics showed up, and they decided that since I wanted to go to the ER, and since I'd taken "a hell of a lick, there," immobilization was in order. "I understand, and I theoretically approve, but I don't have to like it," I said.
Arrived at ER; they were full up, so we waited. And waited. And waited. And I could feel various muscles getting achy from being strapped down and immobile.
By now I was pretty much exclusively calm and lucid, with occasional trembly moments.
Then a bed opened up, and as they lifted me off the stretcher to the bed, my right calf cramped. HARD. The kind of charley-horse that can throw me from a sound sleep into an upright position with my leg stretched, in, according to Dale, "2.24 seconds, allowing for the Doppler shift."
And I immediately turned into That Patient, the one who whines and whimpers and babbles and begs for something, anything, to make the pain go away. Seriously, I was completely oriented, I knew exactly where I was and what had happened, and I had absolutely no brain space for anything but the pain in my calf. I went from calm, relatively cheerful (all things considered), and speaking in complete, grammatical sentences to "oh ghod oh ghod it hurts it hurts please let me bend my leg and put my foot down, please please it hurts please take the straps off my legs oh please please it hurts so much please. . ."
There was a small part of my brain that was standing off to one side mumbling, "You're really not behaving appropriately here" but it was vastly outshouted by the much larger portion of my brain that was screaming, "It hurts make it stop."
All praise and thanksgiving to Cyann, who stood at the foot of the bed and calmly forced my toes and foot back up toward my shin to stretch the cramp out, and stood there and let me press my foot against her hands for probably five minutes. She had someone find a sheet and looped that around my foot and gave me the ends, and I was able to pull my foot up hard and keep pressure on it until the cramp finally eased off. She's getting a thank-you note.
Anyway, the only thing that really hurt from the accident itself was my left hip where, I think, the door crunched up against me. I went to x-ray, the x-rays are clean, and now I'm home with Dale. I have a scrip for 10 Vicodin capsules, and I assure you that we filled it on the way home and I took one as soon as I walked in the door. I'm going to do my best to stay ahead of the pain curve, here.
I've emailed my managers to tell them I won't be at work tomorrow, I've called my Local president to let him know that I may or may not be up to chairing the meeting on Saturday, and I need to go "possibly un-RSVP" for a party on Friday night. I think that covers all my immediate obligations.