Friday the 13th

I had my first unlucky Friday the 13th yesterday. Everything was going fine – I had the day off, I registered for the bartending course and put a deposit on my tuition, spent the afternoon lazing about, ate Chinese, saw Cabin In The Woods (which is good, I might add). A swell day, no?

So Nikki and I are leaving the theatre parking lot after seeing the movie, totally innocently. I was sitting in the rear passenger seat, because there was spilled gravy on the front passenger seat. Nikki was driving, her car. We’re chatting and gushing about the movie, waiting at a stop sign to turn left so she can drive me home.


BAM. The world shakes, we jerk forward, and my head slams into the seat in front of me.

Yep. We were rear ended.

By a big ass fucking Dodge truck.

Know what we were in? A tiny Volvo sedan. Luckily the hit wasn’t that bad, but the sheer size difference jarred us.

So we climb out of the car, shaking and whatnot. The driver of the truck – a tiny blonde girl who didn’t seem entirely there – gets out and starts going on about cell phones and her dad. No fucking clue. Nikki, in tears and visibly shaking, knows to phone the police. We don’t know the local police number, so we phone 911. Nikki is too shaken up to talk, so I get the phone and learned how well I can handle myself under pressure. I explained what happened, so far as I knew, and where we were, and only reached issue when I had to recite my name, address, phone number and date of birth – I’ve never dealt with a 911 call before, but I’m guessing this was to see how fcked up I was. I almost forgot when I was born. The operator asks how we are, I say that I hit my head, so she says even if it isn’t severe, due to the nature of the injury, she’s sending an ambulance with the police.

So we wait. The driver of the truck is still making no fucking sense, trying to get me or Nikki to talk to her dad on the phone. We refuse, and I tell her to sit back and wait for the police to come, because they’ll deal with it. Not her dad. I remind her, politely, mind you, that she has to wait otherwise it’s a hit and run, and I took down her license plate number as soon as I got out of the car after the hit.

So the cops come. Then the ambulance. Then the firetruck. Somewhere in my mind, the part that isn’t all OMYGOD I WAS JUST IN A CAR ACCIDENT, is pleasantly overwhelmed at the attention we’re being given.

The paramedics look us over, decide we aren’t too harmed, warn us to go to the hospital if we start to get blurred vision and other concussion symptoms. Then they leave, and after a while, the firemen do as well, leaving us with the tallest policeman ever. Gotta be touching 7 feet. It was insane.

He gets Nikki’s statement and license, then mine. I stayed remarkably calm during this, explaining what I thought happened, but as soon as he left to talk to the girl who hit us, I start trembling and am on the verge of tears.

Side note: People in movies who get rear-ended always appear fine. It hurts a fucktonne more than they let on, and is a lot scarier.

Continuing on. My mother and Nikki’s dad and sister appear at some point, and we wait while the police finish taking statements and licenses and whatnot. The front of the truck is mangled but not too bad, and the back of Nikki’s car is smushed, but it’s still driveable. It’s a Volvo, thank God. Built like a boat.

Other than being shaky, I felt relatively fine after the accident. Not directly after – my head hurt like a bitch – but in the statement taking and whatnot. But as soon as I got home, the headache hit me like a tonne of bricks. I oozed on the couch watching tv and reading, trying to ignore my throbbing skull and aching neck.

Today at work, it was a lot more fun. I had a headache all morning, combined with neck and back soreness and a tender head, and after eating I felt nauseous. The headache left a bit, then returned with a vengeance, and I found myself staring at nothing and blinking to clear my vision. This continued until fourish, when I finally caved and decided I’d get nothing done unless I got some painkillers in me.

So I documented today’s aches, so I can have some sort of proof if/when I see ICBC about an “I got in a motor vehicle accident, pay me for my hurtz” claim. I have a hunch I had a minor concussion, and today I was feeling the post-concussion syndrome I read about in Merck Manual.

Moral of the story: being rear-ended sucks, I hurt, and Friday the 13ths officially are lame.

And as a postscript, I had a really hard time typing this, due to being groggy and unable to think up a few vital words. Like tuition (I thought it started with an I), and attention. Head injuries. Wooo.

4 thoughts on “Friday the 13th

  1. Oh, man…hope you’re ok. I really don’t want to sound biased, but I don’t think girls should be driving trucks. Especially from where I’m from. It’s almost if they think they are the king of the world and absolutely forget all of the rules of the road. But I should probably stop there. On the other hand, at least it was nothing serious…

    1. I’m definitely feeling better now, 24+ hours after the accident actually happened. Thanks :3 I don’t see why anyone needs to drive trucks, unless they actually have to pull things on a regular basis. But I definitely see the point there – it was a bigass Dodge, not some wee Toyota truck. Plus, though I hate to sound rude or anything, but I think she had some mental deficiencies. A bit slow on the uptake. So that truck was probably a bad idea for her to start with.
      We’re just thankful we weren’t really badly injured, or the truck didn’t push us into traffic. This is minor, thank God.

      1. That is definitely good to hear. Yea, road rage is a huge problem in my hometown. It’s almost as if these people have nothing better to do but show off their trucks and really put others life at risk. It totally could have been worse though, like you said.

        Oh god, sounds like she definitely shouldn’t have been behind that wheel…

      2. Ugh. Some people. Vehicles are a curse as much as they are a blessing.
        Nooo, I really don’t think she should’ve. Poor choice by whomever gave her the keys.

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