By the time you read this, it will be Saturday. Yesterday was my 22nd anniversary with my dear Hubby. We had a low key celebration planned, given how fractured the children's work schedules are these days, we were looking forward to pizza, ten pm, our house.
God, or nature, or a certain yuppie dingleberry in a little car had other ideas.
My lunch hour was delayed a little yesterday because NBM had to run out and placate a customer. So while my initial plan was to stay in the conference room and edit, by the time 2 Pm rolled around, all I wanted was a McD's chicken sandwich. For a buck, it's a lovely little pick me up. I poured a Slimfast shake into my travel coffee mug and headed out.
Through the drive through, no problems. Stopped at the light, no problems. Got the green, moved forward, big gigantic problems.
I remember spinning. I remember landing on the opposite side of the intersection, on the opposite side of the road, unable to breath. I'd been T-boned on the passenger side at a high enough rate of speed that my curtain airbags deployed.
Oh, and there was Slimfast dripping from everything.
By the time I started to catch my breath a very nice lady in a green shirt came up to the car and told me the police had arrived. (It's a busy spot, I'm sure they weren't far away.) She then noted that I was covered in...something. She asked if I was bleeding.
"Nope, that would be Slimfast."
I was unable to find my glasses. The spinning or the impact sent my glasses flying and I seriously couldn't find them. I got out of the car, and got to spend some quality time with a police officer and a very, very nice fireman. The fireman came up to see if I was injured and he took one look at my khaki Capri's and asked where all the blood was coming from.
He had a good chuckle.
So I gave my statement to the police, and then the very nice fireman ushered me over to two very nice paramedics. (Under different circumstances, this would have been a banner day for me.) As we got into the ambulance, one of the paramedics asked if I'd been drinking hot chocolate.
He chuckled, and said I smelled chocolaty. Probably the nicest thing any could have said to me.
Hubby got me to the doctor's office, where several folks stared at me. You know how it is in those offices: you're bummed to be there, but you sort of check out who might be worse off. And then you think, "Well, at least I'm not that person."
I was that person. The people in the waiting area sort of looked horrified when I hobbled in. So I said to Hubby, "well, I'm super bummed that my clothes are covered in SLIMFAST."
That seemed to put everyone at ease.
We get to the exam room and the first thing the nurse wants to do is weigh me.
|"No, I'm not going to weigh you.|
Would you like some coffee?"
So I have to get weighed, which is when I remove my shoes. Normally I wear sandals to work, but my nail polish on my toes was looking a bit less than awesome. Since I was too lazy on Thursday to touch up the toes, I opted to wear some cute summer shoes without socks.
Which means my terrible nails were visible during my exam.
I'm home now, very sore in the neck, back, and right leg regions. I haven't a clue if they're going to total my car, so I'm on pins and needles about a few things, but nothings broken, no one's dead, so I guess it could have been seriously worse.
One other little "It can only happen to Sarah" sort of thing: Because of the anti inflammatory meds I'm on for my hands, I cannot take any Aleve or Advil, or Extra Strength Tylenol. I can, however, have a glass of wine. I asked my doctor that. He said, "Sure, but with food of course."
|"No painkillers, but it says here you can have |
all the wine you can hold...just be sure you
eat while you're drinking."
So, my friends, I guess it's true what mothers have said for years: "Always keep your toenail polish fresh because you never know when you're going to be in an accident."
And I'll add: Keep a tighter lid on your Slimfast.