Riding on my bicycle/I saw a motorcrash...
Unfortunately, I was the one in the car.
I was driving back to my office from work. It was a nice afternoon. I was listening to music on the radio, feeling pretty good. I approached an intersection, one I go through 2 or 3 times a day. The light was green. I moved on.
At the same time, a man in a van decided to turn left, even though the light said he couldn't. He pulls into the intersection.
I look ahead, and see the van. I hit the brake. I am calm. I clearly think "I'm going to hit him." I do.
I see the hood crumple up in front of my windshield. I see the airbags fly up. I feel the car sliding forward. I hear screeching rubber. I see my glasses fly off my face. I feel a bump as I hit the curb. I feel grass under my wheels. I feel another bump as I come to rest against some sort of large silver box. It is over in probably a half a second. I think of it now and all this seems to happen over the course of hours. It's super slo-motion. Rewind and fast-forward to the part you want to see.
The cab of the car is full of smoke. I see people running towards me. "Get out of the car!" one calls to me. I recognize the other as the guy in the van. He looks distraught. "I'm sorry, it's my fault!" he cries out. I open the door, but it will only open halfway. I stumble out. I am walking around, I look at what is left of my car. Then I start to feel very dizzy. The first man tells me I should sit down. I sit down on the curb.
An ambulance pulls up. They put a brace on my neck. They ask me if I want to go to the hospital, and I think about saying no, I'm fine, but my neck is hurting more than I remember any part of my body hurting in a long time. I say yes.
Another ambulance comes. I am told to sit down on the gurney. I do, and they lower me to my back. I am strapped in. More braces are put on my back, on either side of my head. I cannot move. I look straight up at the blue sky. I see a cloud. I am lifted into the ambulance. We go away.
I am looking straight up at the shiny alumnium celing of the ambulance. The ambulance drivers ask me questions. What day is it today? What holiday is coming up? Can you squeeze my finger? I apparently pass the tests, and they talk amongst themselves about their days. They talk about a really bad accident they saw earlier today. Worse than mine, I imagine.
I arrive at the hospital. I am wheeled into the ER. Doctors come, ask me more questions, the same questions. I am told to bend my knee, squeeze his finger. Vitals are taken. And soon I'm left alone, on a gurney in the hallway, told someone will be with me soon. I wait.
I think about things, about the mess with my insurance, about getting a new car, about if my neck is broken, about where I could rent a car, about if my ribs are broken, about calling work to let them know where I am, about if I have a concussion, about how I hope my family was told where I am, about if I'm going to die.
The diagnosis is good. The only injuries I have are related to the safety devices in my car; chest strains and abrasions from the seat belt, facial abrasions from the air bag. The alternative would have been going head first into the windshield, or taking the steering column in the chest.
My sister arrives with my mother. My mother has been crying, but I assure her I'm OK. They stay with me most of the afternoon.
I get X-rayed, apparently nothing shows up on them that shouldn't be there, and I am told I can go home. My sister drives me home. It's time to start picking up the pieces now.
Unfortunately, I was the one in the car.
I was driving back to my office from work. It was a nice afternoon. I was listening to music on the radio, feeling pretty good. I approached an intersection, one I go through 2 or 3 times a day. The light was green. I moved on.
At the same time, a man in a van decided to turn left, even though the light said he couldn't. He pulls into the intersection.
I look ahead, and see the van. I hit the brake. I am calm. I clearly think "I'm going to hit him." I do.
I see the hood crumple up in front of my windshield. I see the airbags fly up. I feel the car sliding forward. I hear screeching rubber. I see my glasses fly off my face. I feel a bump as I hit the curb. I feel grass under my wheels. I feel another bump as I come to rest against some sort of large silver box. It is over in probably a half a second. I think of it now and all this seems to happen over the course of hours. It's super slo-motion. Rewind and fast-forward to the part you want to see.
The cab of the car is full of smoke. I see people running towards me. "Get out of the car!" one calls to me. I recognize the other as the guy in the van. He looks distraught. "I'm sorry, it's my fault!" he cries out. I open the door, but it will only open halfway. I stumble out. I am walking around, I look at what is left of my car. Then I start to feel very dizzy. The first man tells me I should sit down. I sit down on the curb.
An ambulance pulls up. They put a brace on my neck. They ask me if I want to go to the hospital, and I think about saying no, I'm fine, but my neck is hurting more than I remember any part of my body hurting in a long time. I say yes.
Another ambulance comes. I am told to sit down on the gurney. I do, and they lower me to my back. I am strapped in. More braces are put on my back, on either side of my head. I cannot move. I look straight up at the blue sky. I see a cloud. I am lifted into the ambulance. We go away.
I am looking straight up at the shiny alumnium celing of the ambulance. The ambulance drivers ask me questions. What day is it today? What holiday is coming up? Can you squeeze my finger? I apparently pass the tests, and they talk amongst themselves about their days. They talk about a really bad accident they saw earlier today. Worse than mine, I imagine.
I arrive at the hospital. I am wheeled into the ER. Doctors come, ask me more questions, the same questions. I am told to bend my knee, squeeze his finger. Vitals are taken. And soon I'm left alone, on a gurney in the hallway, told someone will be with me soon. I wait.
I think about things, about the mess with my insurance, about getting a new car, about if my neck is broken, about where I could rent a car, about if my ribs are broken, about calling work to let them know where I am, about if I have a concussion, about how I hope my family was told where I am, about if I'm going to die.
The diagnosis is good. The only injuries I have are related to the safety devices in my car; chest strains and abrasions from the seat belt, facial abrasions from the air bag. The alternative would have been going head first into the windshield, or taking the steering column in the chest.
My sister arrives with my mother. My mother has been crying, but I assure her I'm OK. They stay with me most of the afternoon.
I get X-rayed, apparently nothing shows up on them that shouldn't be there, and I am told I can go home. My sister drives me home. It's time to start picking up the pieces now.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Almost exactly a year ago, I was in an ugly accident. It wasn't nearly as bad as yours, and I was the only person involved (fell asleep at the wheel and hit a concrete retainer wall). The part where you were describing the accident in slow motion sounded way too familiar, though.
I'm glad it sounds like you're okay. That's all sorts of fucked up.