Tuesday, 22 May 2012

The day I pissed my pants

         Now I understand why some people go into church and thank the Virgin or something or why they break out into a song and dance like crazy American Natives and make circles around a car….
        The day started so well. The past few days have been so nice. Hectic, but nice. Lotsa April-related various stuff going on, we travelled a bit, had great photoshoots, had loads of coffees with friends… This morning Ape went to Venice via train and I walked her to the station in the rain (though not before a sweet orgasm from naughty hubby, who enjoys making me late…) and I was talking to him like, literally, a MINUTE before the phone rang again. This time – his voice, his words… but something was wrong. At first I thought maybe he was joking about some woman having ran into him head-on, that's why he didn't pick up. But he couldn’t breathe. I hung up, my world turning into such a narrow tunnel vision I barely managed to put on the right shoes. Though I couldn’t find anyone over phone – people just weren’t picking up that very bloody moment. And I tried calling the General, but he could no longer talk. It was a small blessing I didn’t have a car of my own, because I would surely crash it – I nearly broke my phone in two - instead I asked a neighbour from a downstairs shop if he would drive me and he was beyond nice.
        Gen told me where the site would be and when I arrived to the school checkpoint, I just saw a few cars parked and thought, okay, few fender benders, that’ll be okay… And then we rounded the corner and saw the fire truck and the ambulance cars and the by-standers and the debris… Good grief, the debris… When I went to the bathroom later on in the hospital, I had realised I literally wetted my pants. I literally actually for realsies pissed myself.
        Running towards the mess I was half imagining the General will be walking around, helping the firemen get out the woman from the other car, but what I found instead was five men holding him together – supporting his neck with a neck-hold, doctors monitoring his heart, other men supporting his infusion… I ran close to him, and as soon as they told me to step back and I had to watch his pale, weak form – a lesser form I have even seen him in and I have seen him ill before – I began to spasm like a book-sample of a hysterical wife. I can’t begin to describe the impossible feeling of fear, dread, helplessness and horror and the Gt Gt Gt … noises coming from one’s throat. Firemen ordered me to calm down, because he wasn’t all that damaged, but still I tried to appear calm and reassuring and failed miserably. You could not mistake me for anything but the victim’s wife. His mum could only be his mum, even with his huntsman rifle that she was keeping safe. (An odd sight indeed.)
       The woman’s car was all over the place. There's a curve there with a strict speed limit, but locals just ignore it and today it rained. Even though he tried to avoid her as far as he could without rolling into the field, even with him slowing to a full stop almost immediately, she hit head on. She probably panicked and hit the breaks, which inevitably turns any vehicle into a cannon ball. I found our license plate 200 feet away amidst broken glass and bits of plastic. General’s mum was as scared as me, even more so as her husband was in a bad accident as well, when the General was born. And then they got the people out of the cars and I had to nag for them to allow me to come along and we got to the hospital, where, of course, it took HOURS to run all the tests. Luckily every single room he went into, sent him out with better and better news. His head, spine, limbs, heart, it was all fine. Internal organs were battered, but nothing ruptured, his chest was smacked, but nothing broken (the other woman was not so lucky. She probably won’t be walking upright for a while.) One thumb was damaged from the air-bag, but not seriously and he inhaled air-bag dust aplenty, but he was advised cough syrup after the chest pain subsides. Morphine was making him tranquil and horny. Eventually he even began to nag, which is always a great sign of the world being as it should be again. He was cold, chalk-white, sweating and trembling, but he was okay. Okay enough to be sent home. I started crying like a five year old all over again.See, right at the accident, just because you see someone walking and talking, doesn't mean they're not dead. It just mean their bodies don't realise it yet. The body will always want to leave the bad place and so adrenalin will keep it going for hours sometimes. That's why right now I keep waking him up every three minutes to make sure he's really okay. I have a great uncle who died from a morphine overdoes for Pete's sakes. He died when he and his wife were leaving the doctor who bandaged his burnt hand and the man fell asleep on the train, right next to his wife, and never woke up. Fuck that.

I love our car. I love it. I will not allow them to junkyard it lightly. It saved my husband’s life. If this is the toll of statistics – one bad industrial and one bad car accident every 40 years, so be it. But he is home safe now and I’m not letting him out of the house for ages. And people are being incredibly considerate – we’ve been getting calls and help from all around. Thank you, yo peeps. 

All in all this was a very good day. It could have been a very bad day. But it was a very good day. Thanks to one very good car. I love you, Steampunk.  

 Lady's car. She probably shouldn't have chosen this type of sedan to run into people.

Steampunk. That's why the report said one person was badly and one mildly injured.