Sometimes Life Gives You Lessons Wrapped in Ridiculous Packaging

Sometimes it does. Usually when you are feeling strong and cocky, it suddenly whips up some humbling event that will immediately come with feelings needing to be examined and some apologies to be made to yourself - or worse, others. And the ridiculous packaging? Take your pick...

In 2001, on 1 September at 20:22 (or so) I was involved in an MVC. I wrote the whole thing down at the time (well, the next day, I think), and here it is (there is a lot of detail in this, you may want a hot cup of something to drink while reading...):

"I left the Renaissance Festival at 1630 and I was low on gas. This is not an unknown thing of late – it seems like there are not enough hours in the day to get stuff done and also with the lousy float gas gage system, it seems that I really had no idea how low the gas was. I got 38.5 miles of the way home – just 1.25 miles short of the mark.

I was coming around the exit – Exit 40 off of Route 287 Southbound. The car stalled and despite repeated attempts it would not start again, enough for me to get it the 1/3 of a mile to the gas station. I was lucky and was over to the left side where cars that were taking the exit might see me better (there is a retaining wall to the right making it a blind exit); I also had my emergency lights flashing. I finally got out of the car and the first car to come around the corner was a green sedan with an older couple in it. I waved and they stopped. I explained that I’d stupidly run out of gas. They said that they would go to the gas station and get a couple of gallons and be back. That was at 1920. It was not quite twilight.

More than one car came around that exit corner fast enough that they had to swerve and slam on the breaks to avoid me. It made me nervous… especially the semi that came, although he approached it at a safe enough speed to avoid hitting me by quite a margin.

By 1955 it was apparent that they were not returning. I was waiting outside, standing against my car, still wearing my Ren clothes and feeling quite self-conscious about it. If you have seen the outfit you know why. I had on the jeweled belt, the money pouch, and the tail (how dopey that must have looked!) as well as the under shift and the black dress. I had not taken off the bodice as that is the belt for all this and the black dress is very long and diaphanous without something to keep it together. Anyway, some people really were great and slowed to ask if I needed help or to use their cell phone, but I had declined, thinking that help was on the way.

A police car came up behind me around 1958. I went to him and told him what had happened. He was polite but a little brusque and business-like, telling me he would radio in for a tow truck to bring gas. He put on his flashing lights (all 100 of them, it seemed) and I was told to wait in my car.

The policeman was busily working up a report. (I had seen him put on the interior light and back up a bit, write down my license plate number, then turn off the light and pull up to his former position.) I was sure he’d entered the tag number to run it through the system. Making sure I had no outstanding warrants and wasn’t a crazed criminal (although I can’t imagine what he was thinking seeing me in my wench garb…).

After 25 minutes I went over to his car with one of the free tickets I got and my camera and I explained to him that I worked at the Renaissance Faire and I wanted to give him a free ticket to next or the following Saturday there for all his help. He finally took it, after a little objecting. I asked to take his picture too and he was OK with that. Everyone thinks I am weird but I want to remember everything that happens in life – even the little things. As it turns out, I am glad I did this. I stood there, by his driver’s side door, giving him some information and asking about the tow truck – it had been a half hour since he’d arrived. It was around 2020 or 2025 when I looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. I kept a constant eye out on approaching traffic.

It all happened so fast – maybe 10, maybe 15 seconds.

It was fully dark then. First I heard the engine. (That sounds weird but by then I’d trained myself to keep an ear on cars approaching the exit – and then immediately look to gage how fast they are coming and if it is someone I know or the couple getting gas.) I could see by the height of the approaching headlights that this was an SUV and it was coming very fast. It had to be doing 50 to 60mph coming off the highway. The driver hit the brakes hard and I could hear the tires locking up on the pavement and skidding. It sounded like screaming against the macadam. It is always a jarring and nerve-wracking sound but this time it was positively deafening – I KNEW that the truck was heading for us – for ME. I had the hideous and instantaneous realisation that I was directly in the line of fire and ran. I remember the unbelievably strong instinct to run and then I was hoofing it across the grassy median, directly away from the police car. After this my memory became more like snapshots than a continuous flow of events. I heard a distant banging sound. I was about 15 feet away from the car. In my peripheral vision I could see the truck’s headlights coming up on me – directly. Then I was struck – pain in my left hip. I was thrown approximately 8 to 10 feet (I think) – pain in my left knee – and suddenly I was on the ground. I don’t recall the sensation of being airborne or impacting the ground but I had to have hit the ground from the front first judging from all the dirt and grass ground into my left knee and on my palms and elbows. I also don’t recall any sounds, no thud from the truck impacting against me or an additional feeling of being hit. Just the realisation of this whole bad thing happening. I did feel the impact against my hip, but nothing else.

I was lying mostly on my back on the right side more than flat. My vision blurred – golden brown streaks in it… I gasped and tried to make sound, tried to say something, anything… the gasping continued and for a second I was terrified that maybe I would lose sensation or die or go into arrest or I don’t know what! Maybe I’d stop breathing? I went though a hundred thoughts in the 90 or so seconds it took to catch my breath enough to speak. Was I going to die? Could I feel or move my toes, my buttocks, my hands? My hands were grasping at nothing in the air and it was weird, but I wanted to – needed to – touch something, anything, just to reaffirm that I was alive and feeling and going to be OK. I wondered if my ribs were broken or sprained. Did I break anything, was anything (like a femur) sticking out somewhere? As the miasma of lights and confusion cleared, I realised that my hip hurt in a deep muscular way and that my elbow and knee hurt – all on the left. My right hand had a small cut on the upper pinky, just below the knuckle – that hurt a bit too. But then the shock came on – the realisation that it was over and I had just been struck by a huge metal vehicle – and the pain in everything except my knee was gone (or extremely dulled). It was a frightening feeling. I was able to get my breath back eventually but it felt like a long time, lying there, gasping like a fish out of water and trying to get in a solid breath of air. It was work to get my lungs to expand that much after the impact.

The driver, a thin fit man somewhere in his early 20s, got out of his SUV. I couldn’t get a feel for his height as my perspective was “off” from lying on the ground. He was a basket case – he did not know what to do. I don’t know if he’d been alone or if someone else was in the vehicle with him. I was laying there with my hands up (the upper arms were at my sides but my elbows were bent and I was trying to breath and reach out or wave – I really don’t know). I was wondering in that panicky way where the policeman was. I had no idea what happened other than the SUV was at my feet about 8 or so feet away and that I had been aware of pain in my left hip and knee. The knee stung and hurt like mad but mostly topically so I was not terribly concerned. I could feel myself wanting to cry but not being able to. I began shaking violently, though, and not from the cool night air.

The SUV was blocking my view of the police car and my car – still sitting there out of gas with my driver’s side door open.

The policeman appeared after what seemed like an eternity but was really only 50 or 60 seconds after it happened. He saw I was on the ground, gasping, and came right over – he grabbed my hand, asked if I’d been struck and ran to call an ambulance. He was back after a few seconds (again, a lifetime went by in those few seconds) and he held onto my hand. He kept saying, “Talk to me, hon.” I talk a lot when I get nervous and I make jokes and try to add humour to things and keep things light when in bad situations (I can’t say if that is a gift or an annoyance…) so I kept up a fairly steady stream of chatter – mostly about what I felt so he would know. He told the driver of the SUV to get in front of his vehicle and STAY THERE. He was quite harsh with him – not abusive but stern. I think he asked if there was someone else with him. I did not hear the answer. The Parks policeman was GREAT – he held my hand and kept calling me “hon”. Normally I hate when strangers call me “honey” or “dear” but in this case it was not only acceptable it was needed. I needed someone to look out for me and he did, bending down and holding my hand and hovering protectively over me while making sure that the driver did not go anywhere.

There is something terribly reassuring about human contact.

He kept telling me to lie still but as I caught my breath it was impossible – I had the most incredible need to sit up – the bodice was too tight and I had to get it undone so I sat up weakly to untie it. I realised my glasses were not on my face – he found them after a few minutes. They would not sit properly on my face but they’d been thrown clear from me and considering the accident, the one earpiece being bent out was a small hassle.

I told him my camera was somewhere out on the grassy median and I wanted it. It was found about five to ten minutes later by another policeman who saw it about 15 – 20 feet from where I had landed. That camera is indestructible. They also found my keys, while I was in the ambulance, and got those to me.

My version of time is probably a little skewed here from the time of the actual accident to when I looked at my watch, laying in the ambulance.

By the time two minutes had elapsed, policemen from Parsippany and the local State Troopers were showing up. They asked me the same questions over and over – name, DOB, address, what happened. At least none of the people asked me all this more than once… I was sitting up but there was a lot of pain in my knee – it was mostly topical, so I realised that it must have been abraded from the ground and that only my hip had been struck by the SUV. I remember looking at the SUV from where I was sitting to see if I had dented it.

I also recall there being many cars – all with lights a-flashing – surrounding the grassy sward I was on. There were police cars with the red/yellow/orange lights and plain cars with blue lights and many, many lights and a lot of confusion – they all wore similar but different uniforms and some had regular clothes on and I remember remarking on the turn out – and I must have apologised to two or three policemen for dragging them away from whatever to do this and saying that this was more than necessary! Stupid me – I couldn’t shut up and I was still shuddering violently.

The one paramedic whom I spoke to in the ambulance had to ask me to untie the thing around my waist – oh, my god, the raccoon tail that is part of my Renaissance costume! I really wanted to wither away… how embarrassing! I found myself explaining to him (and anyone else I came in contact with) that this ridiculous outfit is my Renaissance clothing. Please excuse the clothing and me. (I wanted to sink into the ground!)

The paramedics where right behind the millions of police and took my blood pressure and asked me the same questions. I was finally collared with a huge neck brace thing (standard procedure in this kind of situation) and laid onto a backboard. The whole thing was quite uncomfortable. I was still shaking and now cold to boot. They got me all strapped onto the backboard and finally put me on a stretcher and into the ambulance. I was in the ambulance, looking at the ceiling. I could hear voices but I was lying supine and could not move – my head had the neck brace, which did not allow me to drop my chin to see anything. There were padded blocks on each side of my head and straps all over. Ankles, knees, hips, midsection, shoulders and head were all securely affixed to the gurney. There was a Y strap on (the Y being at the shoulders and then meeting over my sternum), and then all the additional straps. I heard the policeman who’d been there for it all. He asked if I was OK. I knew he was asking me because I recognised the voice and the “hon”. I kind of waved and said I was fine. I had overheard by then that he’d been hit too. I don’t know how much or how hard but he complained to someone of lower back and leg pain so the SUV must have done some damage. I felt really, really bad about that. If I had not run out of gas there and not forgotten my cell phone he’d have had a quiet night patrolling the parks of Morris County and I would not have been at the hospital.

He was in the same ambulance as I… it was reassuring. I heard him giving his information. He is 26 years old and his name is Greg Carson. I am going to write a letter to the police about him. The police and paramedics all asked me the usual questions (this was getting a little old by now). The paramedics also asked if I had allergies, what kind and any medical history… One policeman came in to get my license. Another asked where my registration was. Yet another came in and asked whom to contact. I knew Luis was home and gave them the information.

The wait in the ambulance was long. That was when I looked at my watch and it was 2051. The drive was not long. Once moving it was a very short time before we arrived at Morristown Memorial. I was unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled into the triage area. I was in a small room but laying that flat I could only see the ceiling. A nurse or medic came in with the standard questions. He asked where I was injured then poked around – when he probed my left hip I cried out. It was the same with my knee. I was in there about two minutes when Luis came in. I heard him coming in and was about to say hello when a voice said, “Hola, señora.” And Luis came into view. Oh, sweet Luis – I had an immediate reaction and started to cry – I don’t know why, as I had been fine up until that moment – and held my hand and immediately he was making jokes and getting me to laugh. He was wonderful. He took a picture of the nurse, me on the backboard, then me on the gurney untied (later) and then the policeman who came in to ask yet more questions. The nurse came in and looked me over and finally removed the strap over my forehead – I thanked him profusely. He told me not to move until the doctor came in to look at my neck and back. Luis kept telling me the same thing.

Luis was dragged away to answer questions to fill out my chart. He was asked for my birthday but as usual he could not think of it. The women at the front counter were appalled at that. I was amused, as I always am at his inability to recall my date of birth. He said, “February?” and they said no in scathing tones. He said he got the year right – 1968. He also had called my parents while out giving the triage admin people my information. My mother was beside herself and Ray wanted to drive right over. They’d called it an early night with John, Safia and Julia there and had each taken an Ambien (a sleeping pill) and so really were not in shape to drive. They told Luis they’d be there in 40 minutes.

The doctor finally came in; a tall thin lanky man, and he gingerly took the neck brace off and had me move my head then poked and prodded to discern if I had any pain. The nurse with him helped us to get that uncomfortable backboard out from under me. I was thrilled to be lying upon a soft surface again. The doctor did the poking/prodding routine and naturally he got the hip. I know that he is doing his job but the constant poking of the sore area was jarring and resulted in many sarcastic remarks by me. I have a high pain threshold but this was excruciating. Still, it still only hurt when prodded – the shock was still on. He ordered x-rays of those parts: the left hip and knee.

I was still shaking a lot there. I was wheeled into the x-ray section and then I was really shivering! The hallway was freezing cold. All of radiology was freezing cold! Getting onto the x-ray table was trying with my left side aching. It was a little uncomfortable. I also had to take off my jeweled belt (it is all metal) and the pouch with my money and such. While waiting there after the x-rays were taken I took off the ankle bells and jeweled boot anklet.

The two technicians put up with my chatting at them well. When I am nervous I ask a lot of questions and this was the state I was in from the time I caught my breath to when I was in the triage room after getting x-rayed and the shock was finally starting to wear off. Anyway, they took about four or five x-rays with each injured area – the hip and knee. Nothing was broken.

When I got onto the gurney again I was surprised to find one of my earrings sitting on the white bedding. I felt my ear and the second one was sitting loosely in my ear. The backings were missing on both! I don’t know what happened to them but I'm glad I didn't lose the earrings!

I went back to the room and Luis was along with me. I really had to go to the bathroom by then and they watched me hobble along to it. Standing up for the first time in over an hour was strange and a little disorienting. I hobbled – my left side was stiff and a little uncooperative. The skin on the left knee pulled and flexed with my walking and that did not feel good at all. I also became aware that I was wearing half of the grass and dirt from the median! Looking in the mirror was frightening. I had dirt smudges and grass ground in all over and there was dirt up into my hairline! I pulled the biking shorts down and looked at my left hip to see if there was any bruising. There was none but the skin was ballooning out and quite swollen from the impact! It was really gruesome. It was like a bag of liquid hanging from the lower hip closer to the buttock (not on the side but a little toward my backside) down to mid-thigh.

I staggered back to my gurney and no one was there… I got into bed and waited. At one point the nurse stuck his head in and asked if I had gone for my x-rays. I nodded. A few minutes later, there was Ray in the door. Ma appeared with Luis. A moment after that, John Bellamy came in. John had driven Ray and Ma to the hospital and there they were! Safia was back at the house with the baby. The doctor came in to report no broken bones and that I had the all clear to go upon being released by the nurse. He came in after a few minutes and gave me some paperwork to sign and look over. I also got some pain meds for the night and a prescription.

The nurse came in with water and gauze to clean my knee. The cold water he used to lavage the knee was excruciating. The rubbing of the gauze over the injury did not help. I was not yelling but I gasped and gripped Ray’s hand like I was going to die! The water was quite cold and that was shocking and then the rubbing of the gauze was just horrendously painful. I asked if there was glass in there – that was what it felt like when the gauze was rubbed over it. He tried using warm water to flush it out and I still wanted to scream. He recommended I find out when my last tetanus shot was and maybe get it again. Finally he gave up and instructed me to clean it out.

I was signed out and released and staggered out, clutching the dress, which was unfettered and billowing around me. I looked just awful. And I walked very slowly and deliberately and looked as though I was 80 years old. Ma, John and I waited in the vestibule, feeling a little cold while Ray and Luis went to get the vehicles. I got into the car with Luis and they got into the van and went home.

We left the hospital at 1120. What a long night. Once here I took some medication, a shower and did my best to clean out my knee cuts. They still hurt and this morning everything aches a lot."

It's very strange to read this now. For one thing, I wasn't an EMT then. I have been really great with patients involved in MVCs and it isn't hard to figure out why. I was there on the receiving end once. And I can recall that with vivid clarity. All I could see was the ceiling and it's nerve-wracking and uncomfortable. (That was Car 65 that got me - my accident occurred about 200 feet from their squadhouse.)

Sometimes I dream about it. Sometimes - not often anymore - I will be doing something and suddenly the vision of headlights coming toward me will pop into my head. I almost always need to be the driver... very few people are acceptable drivers to me. I used to be extremely jumpy in cars and it still happens now and again - but not as much as it used to. I drive an ambulance now - took me over two years to reach a point where I was even interested in trying it. For a long time, I would not consider commuting to work (ironically, although statistically correct, the accident was only about a mile from home - and yet commuting was an issue). I was definitely scarred much more psycologically than physically.

If I was wondering why I am so fond of the police, this is it. The Parsippany police and Officer Carson were wonderful. They were all very solicitous and caring and they were the highlight of this whole thing. Sure they aren't so wonderful with drunk drivers or negligent drivers, but I'm not terribly sympathetic to their plight either and why should anyone be?

I came away from this with permanent damage to my fifth cervical vertebrae (which seems to be mostly OK now after about three years of intensive chiropractic care), a misaligned hip, the swollen pouch there that will never go away, and a bit of scarring on my knee. I have a lot of back issues from this, though, and suffer from back spasms when I overdo it (usually riding or sometimes from extended periods sitting). But I am ALIVE and grateful to be so. Every day above ground is a good one. I suppose if I tour a cave I'll have to recant that statement! That's OK, I can live with that sort of underground.

It was a learning experience, as are most things in life. I wouldn't trade it in (that sounds strange, doesn't it?). This is a part of the whole, something else that makes me me. I learned my mortality that night. That yes, I really can be killed (quite easily, in fact). That running out of gas is much more dangerous than one would think. That if you have better car insurance rates, this is considered "frivilous" and can't sue (not that I could have anyway - the kid that hit me was totally broke, dumber than week old box of rocks and already a career criminal - and I was not inclined to try going after his parents - not their fault this idiot was out with a vehicle with no valid license, no registration, no insurance... he did not live at home).

However, this was very much wrapped in the most unbelievable wrapping!