So the picture above describes exactly how I'm feeling right now. It's 6:35 a.m. EDST or EST however you want to put it, and I can't sleep due to the pain I'm experiencing from the accident. For those of you who have never been in an accident (I'm jealous) let me describe it to you.
Doug and I dropped his mother off at home. We headed toward interstate and got on the entrance ramp. Doug was driving. We were talking and minding our own business when suddenly, we seen what could only be described as a large pile of what was left of a tire that could have only escaped from an eighteen wheeled semi truck. I managed to scream, "Oh God," followed by more screaming as we careened about the two lane highway. The car finally came to a stop in the grassy area in the middle. The tires were smoking. I could smell the rubber burning off of them. The next thing I knew Doug was out of the car with a small flashlight, surveying any damage. A police car pulled up behind us, and the officer gproduced his own flashlight to check on us. (He was a really nice man compared to the police officers we have dealt with in the past.) He and Doug went around the car several times and neither of them could see anything wrong. The officer instructed us to notify the insurance company if we find any damage to the car or ourselves, then he made sure we could actually drive off before he returned to his vehicle. Luckily, the car was fine for driving, so Doug got us safely back onto interstate, and we proceeded to the 29th street exit. We took route 60 all the way home, both of us in shock, pain, and on the way home, I find out that the force was hard enough to make my nose run profusely. (I thought it was bleeding.)
I stepped inside our apartment while Doug remained outside to do another inspection of the vehicle. I did the usual routine, checked on the kitties, went to the loo, then to the bedroom to change into my pajamas. I saw some change that had fallen out of my jeans from the other day, so I scooped it up to put it into my wallet. I grabbed the wallet and noticed that there's blood all over my hand. Naturally, the first thing I do is check my body to see where the source of the bleeding is. I spun around in front of a full length mirror, but was unable to find a source to explain the blood. At first, panic rose from deep within me. I did my best to remain calm. I took a seat and decided to look through my purse to see if I bled on anything else. I started pulling things out of my purse. Everything was covered in it, but as I got to the bottom of my purse, I realized what had happened. There was a red pen inside my purse that had exploded. I'm not sure if the force of the vehicle careening wildly on the interstate caused it to explode or if it was just coincidental because the ink was dripping off of the items in my purse, which is why I thought it was blood. I did not stop to think the red substance was anything else. I did not note that the substance lacked the consistency of blood, nor was it particularly warm or sticky. I was still under the effects of trauma.
As for injuries, Doug has a bruise on his left side from where the seat belt locked up as he hit the brakes. He is complaining of pain in that general area. My seat belt did not lock, which was surprising, and I felt myself sliding in and out while the seat belt was still buckled around me as we careened into the grassy area. I have a horrible headache and my upper back, shoulders and neck hurt. I also think I sprained my left ankle, and I'm having trouble writing with my right hand. And we didn't even hit another car. Ironic, isn't it?
I may try to work on my book or maybe read a few pieces on the Houston Chronicle's Good Mom, Bad Mom blog with Mindy Sterba and Jenny Lawson until I fall asleep. Whatever I do, I just hope neither one of us has to end up going to the ER later. Looks like I'll be riding that Tylenol pony once again.