Oh wait, that's because I WAS hit by a truck! Dad's truck, to be exact.
No really! Monday evening I took E to the Conservation Area to walk the paved trail and the road to the trail is all downhill. We've had snow but the roads were mostly clear and there was only a light dusting on that road so I thought it would be fine. Oh, how very wrong I was. It went from light dusting of snow to like 3 inches of snow the last 1/8 mile or so and of course that's the steep part where there's nowhere to turn around . I said fuck it and we went for the walk anyway--we knew we wouldn't make it back up the hill so might as well get some exercise, right?
So we finish the walk and attempt the big ass hill. It didn't work and the van almost went off in the ditch. I put on the emergency break, left E in the van with the heater running, and walked far enough up the hill to get a cell phone signal to call Dad. He brought out his 4wd truck and chains to pull us out. So he's parked probably 50ft. in front of the van with his E break on and I'm up under the front of the van looking for a place to attach the chain. The next thing I know, here comes the damn truck flying backwards at me . I was screaming "STOP! STOP!" but he couldn't hear me and he couldn't stop anyway because somehow the Emergency break had disengaged on it's own. It's a damn good thing I have fast reflexes or I'd be dead right now. I grabbed on to whatever I could find under that van, hauled myself back as far as I could, and swung my legs up alongside me. The front of the van is all dented but the damage is all cosmetic.
I WALKED AWAY from that. Well, crawled then walked. It tore the fuck out of my right knee and I don't even know how many stitches I needed, but it was so bad they had to put me under GA and call in a surgeon to do it. The ER doc wasn't qualified. I ripped through tendons, ligaments, muscle tissue, and severed an artery. Lost a lot of blood but not enough to need a transfusion. The contrast of the white snow and the bright red blood pouring out of my leg was actually quite pretty. There was no way an ambulance could've made it down there so Dad helped me get into the front passenger seat of the truck, buckled E (who isn't hurt at all) into the backseat, and drove me to the ER. These fuckers made me wait in the waiting room for an hour before taking me back, then made me wait another, oh, 5 or 6 hours before doing the surgery. They didn't even clean the wound for 2 hours. I got here aound 6pm, they took me back at 7pm, cleaned it around 8pm then did x-rays (nothing's broken), the ER doc looked at it around 10pm and the surgeon wasn't notified until close to midnight. WTF. I either have the worst luck in the world--since weird shit like this happens to me--, the best luck in the world--since I haven't been killed or permanetly disabled from the weird shit--, or a combination of both. I should be dead right now, not typing about it on the internet and making jokes.
No really! Monday evening I took E to the Conservation Area to walk the paved trail and the road to the trail is all downhill. We've had snow but the roads were mostly clear and there was only a light dusting on that road so I thought it would be fine. Oh, how very wrong I was. It went from light dusting of snow to like 3 inches of snow the last 1/8 mile or so and of course that's the steep part where there's nowhere to turn around . I said fuck it and we went for the walk anyway--we knew we wouldn't make it back up the hill so might as well get some exercise, right?
So we finish the walk and attempt the big ass hill. It didn't work and the van almost went off in the ditch. I put on the emergency break, left E in the van with the heater running, and walked far enough up the hill to get a cell phone signal to call Dad. He brought out his 4wd truck and chains to pull us out. So he's parked probably 50ft. in front of the van with his E break on and I'm up under the front of the van looking for a place to attach the chain. The next thing I know, here comes the damn truck flying backwards at me . I was screaming "STOP! STOP!" but he couldn't hear me and he couldn't stop anyway because somehow the Emergency break had disengaged on it's own. It's a damn good thing I have fast reflexes or I'd be dead right now. I grabbed on to whatever I could find under that van, hauled myself back as far as I could, and swung my legs up alongside me. The front of the van is all dented but the damage is all cosmetic.
I WALKED AWAY from that. Well, crawled then walked. It tore the fuck out of my right knee and I don't even know how many stitches I needed, but it was so bad they had to put me under GA and call in a surgeon to do it. The ER doc wasn't qualified. I ripped through tendons, ligaments, muscle tissue, and severed an artery. Lost a lot of blood but not enough to need a transfusion. The contrast of the white snow and the bright red blood pouring out of my leg was actually quite pretty. There was no way an ambulance could've made it down there so Dad helped me get into the front passenger seat of the truck, buckled E (who isn't hurt at all) into the backseat, and drove me to the ER. These fuckers made me wait in the waiting room for an hour before taking me back, then made me wait another, oh, 5 or 6 hours before doing the surgery. They didn't even clean the wound for 2 hours. I got here aound 6pm, they took me back at 7pm, cleaned it around 8pm then did x-rays (nothing's broken), the ER doc looked at it around 10pm and the surgeon wasn't notified until close to midnight. WTF. I either have the worst luck in the world--since weird shit like this happens to me--, the best luck in the world--since I haven't been killed or permanetly disabled from the weird shit--, or a combination of both. I should be dead right now, not typing about it on the internet and making jokes.
I came home last night (2/16) and am doing pretty good considering. I literally couldn't move this morning when I woke up because my entire body was so sore, but after I got some Percoset in me I was good to go. I can get around the house ok on my own and only need help getting in and out of bed, on and off the couch, and washing my back. I can't get the wound wet so I have to take sponge baths. YUCK. Better than being dirty and oily, though. I have a badass JP drain hanging out of the wound and a Franken-knee. I hope it leaves a permanent scar because that would be awesome as hell. I love scars. They make a person seem so much more interesting because there's a story behind every one. I have a hell of a good story to go along with this one.
