The Very Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

This past Saturday my husband and I were hit straight on by a speeding drunk driver at 3 p.m. I was driving and the impact came to the driver's front but totaled the entire front of the car. We were on the outside lane coming up to the curve on a two-way winding country road and the drunk driver was speeding so fast he couldn't make the curve and drove fully into our lane. If we hadn't been in our lane I'm convinced he would have veered completely off the road.

There was no time to react. My husband saw this was going to happen before I did as from his vantage point he could see slightly further ahead. He said "They're going to hit us" and with those words I immediately saw a white bullet slam into us and felt an unbelievable thud force. The next thing I noticed were deflated air bags with frayed edges and a haze in the air in the front seats where we were still seated. The horn was stuck and blaring. I heard my husband's voice through my confusion of disbelief , "Are you okay?" I was thinking, "my god, what happened" but just answered, "yes." Being satisfied with my well being, he left the car to meet the driver of the bullet in the road. I wanted out of the car. It felt wrong to be there and too small. I tried to open the door like I normally would have and it wouldn't budge. I had to pry it open with my leg. I had a strong urgency to get out of that confined space and stand. The door made a terrible popping sound that was startling. As if the airbags weren't enough proof, hearing metal resistant to a normal movement made me realize how serious the situation was.

The car started to roll backwards as we were on a slight incline. I sat back down and put it in park but I think it already was. I can't remember doing that. For a moment I thought about getting out of the car and letting it roll. I got back out of the car and tried to stop the momentum by pushing it forward. Clearly I wasn't thinking well then I thought of stepping on the emergency parking brake which worked. I then noticed my bare feet on the asphalt. My watch band was open. Later we noticed a button was missing from my husband's shirt. It was odd to see missing pieces on your person. I ran my tongue across my teeth. All there. No dire pain to move.

Angels from nowhere seemed to appear - "I saw it all. How can I help?" came from one wearing glasses and age around her eyes. She retrieved my shoes and lead me out of the broken plastic and metal fray and sat me in the brush at the edge of the road. Someone began rubbing my back coyly asking me general questions. I was thankful she turned out to be a nurse at a nearby hospital. Another angel offered her an ice pack to put on my right breast that was beginning to hurt with immense pain. Soon thereafter I noticed the front of my neck was starting to burn. Another couple of whiter haired angels said the white bullet had just passed them over a double yellow line and they had mentioned prophetically to one another that that car was going to hit someone. The husband didn't want to get involved but the wife gave us her name, address and phone number. I was finding out there is no stronger bond than middle-aged sisterhood.

There was no cell reception in the area so another angel got in his car and drove to get help. Soon a CHP plane began to circle. After that the emergency vehicles came. The Sheriff's car was coming around the same bend in the road so fast that if he had decided to veer off the road to avoid the wreck he would have hit me sitting in the brush. My personal angel with the ice bag and I both held our breath. He stayed on the road stopping in time but I'm sure the officer also had unseen assistance to break successfully. It was my second close call within a half hour.

Finally someone pulled the wire on the horn and I was able to hear what was going on in the fray. My husband was still working on pure take charge adrenaline taking pictures with his phone and getting information. He'd check on me once in awhile and was assured by my back rubbing angel that I was fine. Meanwhile on the take charge side, the driver of the bullet confessed to have been drinking. One of his passengers was apologizing. I didn't care. I felt no compassion. Eventually the driver was arrested on felony drunk driving.

As we were being transported to the hospital I began to have trouble breathing but oxygen helped. They took a picture of my heart and gave me an EKG. All was well but my BP was highly elevated. My husband's leg was wrapped up but he was able to sit up. I hoped he could have a moment to relax but I knew his thoughts were on me, how do we get a car and how do we get our son home from college, the primary reason for our little get-away.

A few chest x-rays and a narcotic or two later, we were given our walking papers or should I say hobbling papers. My husband made the call to our college boy against my wishes. In my mind we were fine, there was nothing he could do since he didn't have a car and I didn't want his last night to be ruined with this news. With the car rental office closed my husband thought perhaps friends of his might still be in town who had a car that could pick us up. We were about a half hour away from the motel we were to stay at.

We called one of the three cabs in town which took us from the hospital to the towing yard to get everything out of the car. It was so sad. So sad. I know this sounds odd but I felt our car gave its life for us. I was telling my husband as we were driving up the coast the day before how much I loved my little car. I was feeling such gratitude for her. Now she sat there. Broken. Most likely irreparable but somehow there was a sense of satisfaction emanating from her. It could have been the Motrin, Valium and Percocet simultaneously coursing through my sore body but I've always felt a bond with my little Lexus RX. The only car I ever have.

We then continued in the cab to the motel where we had our reservations. On Sunday, we secured a rented mini-van to pack up our son and come home. We had to abandon his bike as the connection between the bike rack and the car was not working out. Like our car, we chose to believe the bike had served its purpose this year and we had to let it go. My son took his last ride on the bike up a ways to a nearby dorm, placed it in the rack unlocked, stepped back and took a picture with his phone. It was a sad moment too. Another casualty of the weekend with a sense of gratitude for services rendered.

On the long drive home where further stiffness set in and sudden red bumper lights caused increased anxiety the three of us took comfort in many "I love yous" and hand squeezes offered from the back and front seats and through phone calls and text messages from the people we love and who obviously love us very much.

Around 9 p.m. and fairly close to home we stopped for dinner at Maggianos and uncharacteristically splurged on spumoni ice cream offering a toast to celebrate the completion of a sophomore year and as my scholar son chimed in in a very Dickinsonian way, "To life."
It was a good moment. It was very, very good.

Today being the third day, as we were told in the hospital, is proving to be a rough day. More bruises are showing up on arms and legs, necks are stiff, backs have pain, ears are ringing, arms tingly and numb, fingers are not sliding deftly over the keyboard. The saving grace of my seat belt has left its marks to be remembered by - my neck looks like I escaped a hangman's noose just in the nick of time, and perhaps I had. I am bruised from one hip bone to the other across my abdomen and the extent of bruising to my entire right breast alarms me every time I glance at it in the mirror. It gives new meaning to the lyrical words, "purple mountain majesties."

We are alive.
The driver and passengers of the white bullet are alive.
I'm thankful as to their fate but I'm also angry at how their judgement and lack of concern and thought for anyone but themselves has caused this change in our lives - physical, emotional and financial.

But we are alive.

"God shed His Grace on thee."