It’s Like Deja Vu All Over Again

I never understood why people say that.  Isn’t it kind of redundant?  Or is that the point?  At this early hour and with all that is on my mind, I’m sure I’m missing something.

I was reading No Pithy Phrase’s latest post and instantly traveled back in time several years.

At 4:40 one morning, I got a phone call.  Calls in the middle of the night are never good news, unless it’s your drunk friend singing 80s songs in your ear because she thinks it’s so funny.

The non-BF:  (no “Hello” but) I think I’m all right.  Not sure about the truck, though.

He sounded a bit high.  And he is totally “hugs, not drugs,” so I was caught off-guard.

Me: Mmphmmph, ack, hello?

The non-BF:  Oh, here’s the ambulance.  I gotta go.

What the holy HELL?

So what do I do?  The most obvious and logical hysterical thing I can do:  I get in my car and start driving around, looking for accident sites.  At five a.m.  Without a clue where the accident happened.  Finally, I stop my shallow breathing and crying and turn my car around to head back home.

For three of the longest hours of my life, I sat in the bathtub emptying and refilling the tub when the water got cold, all the while calling the non-BF’s cell phone every two minutes.  And crying like I hadn’t cried in years.  Eventually, an unknown number popped up on the screen and I answered it by yelling out his name with a question mark at the end.

It was a nurse who told me the non-BF was fine.  She let me know which hospital he was at, so I called my mom and we took off together.  Walking into the trauma room (I still cringe when I hear those two words together), the non-BF was in good spirits and making the doctor laugh a lot.  He is like me in that when the crisis is too much to deal with at the moment, everythingand especially the crisis – becomes a joke.  It’s an excellent coping mechanism, and much more tolerable than bitching and/or crying about whatever happened.  Just my opinion.  Anyway, it has served me well over the years.

He and I were very fortunate:  I got to take him home that same day.  I realize it could have been much worse – it could have been the very worst scenario imaginable.  Even though he was (and still is) the Worst Patient In The World, I didn’t mind because he was still alive!  Family stepped in to give me a rest and I remember looking at myself in the mirror a week later and thinking how I seemed to have aged ten years in seven days.

We will never really know how the accident happened, but from the force of the impact and from how far the minivan cab rolled, the police thought it must have been a semi that hit the cab as it entered the highway on the way to the airport (he was going on our vacation early, and I was to meet him three days later…instead we spent our vacation arguing about him not taking his pain pills, stubborn ass!).  To this day, I still give truck drivers the evil eye.  No offense to those truckers out there who drive carefully – I am and probably always will be biased.  How do you cause an accident like that and not even stop to help?  Unimaginable bastard.  It took about two years before I finally stopped wishing horrible things for that person.

So I hope that Jess‘ husband has a quick recovery.  I hope that she doesn’t go stir-crazy sitting by his side at the hospital.  And I also hope that all of you tell at least one loved one today how remarkable and special they are to you.  Life is fleeting.  Say “I love you” while you still can.

P.S. I learned my lesson that time – bring in reinforcements.  That way you have someone to commiserate with when things get difficult (like him trying to do way too much while he is all injured and shit).  I love him dearly but Jesus H. Christ, he really is The Worst Patient In The World!

4 responses

  1. I’m glad to hear he’s ok!! Sorry about your vacation, babe. 😦

  2. Aw, it was years ago, but thanks hon! At least I learned I probably wouldn’t make a good nurse 😉

  3. Accidents suck especially for those watching and waiting for recovery..

  4. Thank you. Mine will be 8-10 weeks recovering from broken bones (and good GOD he’ll be a terrible person…no smoking AND no moving will drive him nutso), but he’s gonna be ok. As long as I don’t kill him, I suppose. I’m sorry it brought back bad memories, though: I totally get the obsessive stress bathtub thing. Sigh.

    Oh yeah…in the ER his questions were (in this order): how’s (passenger name), how are YOU, and how’s the BIKE. Snort. Not a big fan of motorcycles right now. Or drunk drivers…

    If you were in MN instead of the 7th circle of HOT I’d ask for kitten time to entertain me. When she’s unwormy, that is. Ha!

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