So today was the day my best friends all got home from college. It was a beautiful day and the sun was peaking out from behind the gray clouds. What a wonderful day to go out and meet with everyone and hear their drunken mishaps and glorious college stories.
11:35 – get in my Dodge Ram truck, fairly equipped for snow. Turn radio on. Put phone in cup holder
2 minutes later – drive slowly but surely down my rocky hill that has been encased with ice and snow. No problems.
3 minutes later – pull onto the back country road successfully and listen cheerfully to Lorde’s Royals on the radio. Wonderful.
4-5 minutes later – I am driving extremely slow. This is unlike my regular driving habits. I am a speed demon. Being cautious.
6 minutes later – start to fishtail due to lack of weight in the cab of the truck. No prob. Happens all the time. I got this.
6 minutes later – I don’t got this. Swerving out of control. Speeding down hill towards tree.
6.5 minutes later – close eyes.
7 minutes later – open my eyes. Truck is on its side on the ground. Driver’s side window is smashed and completely broken. Windshield is cracked. Immediately become hysterical and start yelling for help.
9 minutes later – still yelling for help. Bleeding. Searching for cell phone. Find phone outside of smashed vehicle. Unbuckle, sit my sorry ass on the slush covered asphalt of the road, and find fallen and misplaced umbrella. Extend it, poke it out of small opening and just barely grab phone. Call Brandon.
13 minutes later – neighbor drives by, stops, and calls the police. Brandon is off of the phone. Calling my mom. Hysterical. Still bleeding.
20 minutes later – neighbor drives home, picks up my mom. Police come. Ask pointless questions. Ambulance and firetruck arrive. Still stuck in the carcass of the truck. Broken glass everywhere. Crying. Bleeding.
21 minutes later – firefighters tell me to cover up with a sheet. Bust open the windows with axes. Lots of loud booming and crashing and cracking. They reach in and drag me from the wreckage. Hands are bloody. Neck is bruised and scraped. Get checked out. Get held by mom and Brandon and cry some more.
30 minutes later – am profusely throwing up. Go to hospital. Brandon and my mom come too.
1 hour later – my dad arrives. Hours before he had retrieved my sister from Allegheny College. First time my sister sees me is in the shitty hospital, in a shitty hospital robe, covered in a shitty what hospital blanket, in a shitty hospital bed.
2 hours later – still waiting for CT scan. Given small biodegradable bag to vomit into. Finally get CT scan.
2.5 hours later – no brain or head damage. Most throwing up has stopped. Just have a pounding headache. Get in jeep and go home.
3 hours later – Take a nap. Finally get appetite back.
If you have decided to read this post thus far, congrats. I am okay, but my neck is stiff and my hands are destroyed with rough, bloody, and scabbing cuts. Needless to say, the term ‘break’ has been taken in not only the sense that we received a certain amount of time off, but the sense that just about everything in my life as of now is pretty much in pieces. Although I loved having time off, I just wish I was back in Syracuse being miserable, safe, and not causing too many problems to my family. I am extremely shaken and I NEVER want to drive again.
On the plus side, my mom made cheesy potatoes for dinner.
On the negative side, I was supposed to go and pick up corn flakes for them from the grocery store on the return of spending time with my friends.
On the plus plus side, she made them with crushed ritz crackers, which still ended up being absolutely delicious.
That is all.
Hope y’all are having a better break than I am!