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In which I practically talk myself into a coma, or at least into therapy.

I am constantly amazed how quickly life can change, aren’t you?  One minute you’re chit-chatting about nothing in particular, the next minute Everything is Serious.  One moment you’re texting a friend, the next you find out Bad News.  One day everything is completely normal, the next it’s Chaos.

Well, a year ago today I was just traipsing back from the airport to pick up a friend (and, for the record, NOT texting) minutes later my life was literally spinning out of control. Serious.  Bad News.  And Chaos.

So, there I am, driving Miss Daisy–may she rest in peace–chatting with my friend Nate about his trip to Washington, D.C. and all of a sudden I am literally spinning through the intersection.  A man who was being chased by three different police departments (see all the cop cars with the twinkly red and blue lights…ok, so they aren’t actually twinkly, don’t judge, ok?) zoomed right through a red light going approximately 55 miles per hour and slammed into me, T-Bone style.  I spun out of control, he kept going and, according to the 3 different officers who told me about it, a half-block later he got out of his vehicle, started running on foot, and was chomped in the gut by a ginormous German Shepherd named Blade or Shark or Monster, or something ferocious-sounding like that.

And then I was on T.V. wearing my pajamas with smudgy mascara and no bra, because, at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday, that’s how I roll, yo.  Too bad I couldn’t have had a picture with the German Shepherd; we could have been on talk shows as the terrible two-some who caught that particular Bad Guy.

I was really lucky, I walked away.  Granted, I was hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf, but I was walking.  I wasn’t bleeding.  I didn’t have bones sticking out of my body.  I didn’t have cuts on my face or hands or shattered glass embedded in my scalp.  I wasn’t splayed out on the asphalt in pieces.  Nate & I both were remarkably lucky.

Mostly.

Except…well, “lucky” is a relative term, right?

Here’s what…I ended up with a lot of skeletal and muscle damage that I still feel every. single. day.  I had class 4 (out of 5) whiplash and was in neck-traction for weeks to try and keep my neck from compressing into my spine.  I had a couple of bulgy disks in my spine, and in case you have never had bulgy disks in your spine, those suckers hurt like crazy.  Non-stop hurt.  The muscles in my back were so stretched and torn that my ribs kept popping out of place; my muscles were not strong enough to keep them lined up neatly in my rib-cage.  Have you ever had a rib popped back in?  What about six or seven?  What about six or seven twice a week?  Gaaaah!  It is something I hope and pray every day I will never have to experience again.  I had perpetual bruises on my back and my chest from my physical therapist working my ribs back in place.  Hello, torture.  I’m telling you, Guantanamo could learn a lesson or two from my P.T.

Besides having an achey-brakey neck, shoulders and back…I had some major issues with my hips.  Apparently, when I spun-out my pelvis twisted farther than my body, or my body twisted farther than my pelvis…at any rate, they did not twist together and the end result was my pelvis sitting wonky on the base of my spine.  Wonky Pelvis, people.  Your pelvis is supposed to be a nice triangle, not a freaky trapezoid.  Do me a favor, make a “gun” shape with both your hands; index and thumb fingers out, pinky, ring and middle finger folded into your palm.  Are you doing it?  With your palms facing you, touch your thumbs together and your index fingers together.  You should have a nice little triangle, yes?  Now, this is what your pelvic bone is supposed to look like under normal, non-wonky circumstances.  Now take your left hand and rotate your hand counter-clockwise until your palm is facing the floor…that’s what happened to my pelvis.  Big. Trouble.  HUGE. Trouble.  One leg was shorter than the other, I didn’t sit flat, I didn’t stand straight, I couldn’t lie down without being in pain.

The good thing is this particular brand of Trouble is fixable without surgery.  I went through–and am still doing–physical therapy to move my pelvis back to a nice, even, triangle shape.  The easy part is a set of 20-ish stretches and strength-training exercises done only on my left side, to help those muscles.  The excruciating part is cracking your pelvic bone.  Not like Crack! broken.  But like cracking your knuckles…did you know your pelvic bone can crack like your knuckles?  Yeah, I didn’t know that either.  And when my physical therapist did her voodoo magic and cracked my pelvis I screamed, and then I swore, and then I cried.  It kind of feels like having a flat-head screw driver attached to the front of a freight train thrust upwards through your skeleton.  I needed this torture treatment done at least once a week for months.  A freight train, people, a freight train.  Shudder.

All that being said…the physical side-effects of my car accident were not most difficult.  The physical stuff was a beast–and in some ways still is–but the Life As I Know It stopping without warning was the worst.  I couldn’t work, I couldn’t exercise, I couldn’t do anything of any real value to me–at the time.  I hated driving, I hated doctors, I hated having to be packed in ice for 12 hours a day.  I was depressed.  I gained a ton of weight.  I felt like I had stopped Life cold turkey and I went through major withdrawals.  It was terrible.  Months went by and my physical body was starting to heal but I was still a complete wreck.  I hated myself, I hated what I had become.  I had been full of energy, bounding along full-speed ahead.  Doing Things.  Going Places.  Being Someone.  And then it all stopped, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to make it come back.  Ugh, just thinking about all this again is giving me anxiety.

I didn’t talk about it much.  It’s hard to explain how everything was so different when I looked exactly the same.  I wasn’t in a cast, I didn’t have physical scars on my face…I looked fine.  And perhaps that was part of the problem.  No one would guess that just under the slightly bloated surface I was absolutely drowning.

Every time I see a yellow VW bug I feel sad.  Part of that is because I miss Miss Daisy, she feels like a real life friend (and I’m totally wearing yellow shoes today to remember her).   But I really miss Life Like It Was Before My Car Accident.  In so many ways it was just…easier.  Sigh.  I feel like I’m okay, 12 months have come and gone; I’ve been to over a hundred doctor appointments and racked up thousands and thousands of dollars in medical bills (Thank you, Insurance!*).  I’m not “back to 100%” and I don’t know if I will ever be at 100%.  But I’m still progressing, physically and emotionally, and that is what is important to me.  It is difficult not to fall back into that depressed, stagnant, deep black hole.  I keep trying to remind myself to look ahead instead of backward.  It’s a daily struggle.

A million thanks to those of you who constantly supported me over the last year; but particularly to Handsome and Lurch who took the brunt of my sobbing and wallowing and who always responded positively and with undeserved encouragement.  I could not have made it through this without you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

*Do me a favor, will you?  Call your auto insurance company and request your PIP be increased to the maximum, allowed amount.  PIP is your Personal Injury Protection.  This is the dollar amount your insurance company will pay for your medical bills.  Minimum requirements vary from state to state, but in Utah the minimum is $2,000.  Which means that unless you change your policy, if you get hurt in a car accident, your auto insurance company will only pay for $2,000 of medical care.  $2,000 will buy you one ride in an ambulance, a few hours in the E.R. and a bandaid.  The maximum available PIP coverage varies by insurance company, some max out at $25,000, some at $100,000.  Make the call, find out where you are at and request the maximum amount of coverage.  The extra $5 a month could not be better spent, I promise you.

**Also, if you have a friend/family member who has been in a serious car accident, or, heaven forbid, they get in a serious car accident, please try and remember that it takes months and months to heal.  Be kind.  Be considerate.  Call to say hello.  Invite them to lunch.  Listen to them chat/vent/cry.  And then gently remind them that there is an end, it’s a long way off, but it’s there.  Can you do that for me?

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