Month: March 2016

The drunk driver was driving on the wrong side of the highway.

But wait, it’s more fun from my perspective.

I’m in the center lane, doing approximately 65 mph. A semi was in the right lane, in front of me. The semi puts its left turn signal and starts moving into the center lane. That’s too close to me, so I move into the left lane. Suddenly, headlights are coming around the truck and I have two options; turn right, into the semi (that’s a strong “fuck no”) or turn left, into the grassy median, risking guard rail and cement barrier. Grassy median, it was. I start to turn left when the impact occurred. If I wouldn’t have done so, I wouldn’t be typing this, right now.

I was hit on the passenger side. My vehicle rolled at least once. I don’t know. It was about 2:00 am. It was dark. I know, the vehicle ended up on its side. No airbags deployed, that I am aware of.

During this time, I leaned in toward the passenger seat. When the vehicle came to a stop, The driver’s side was on the ground. The passenger side was smashed. The windows were all shattered on that side. The doors were smashed shut. Once I realized that this really happened, I unbuckled my seatbelt and surfaced through the passenger side window. I hopped down and looked around, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. I saw a couple of cars pulled over. One was definitely the car that hit me. Someone rushed over to see if I was okay and told me how they had called the police. They had been following this person, on the correct side of the highway. They gave witness statements.

The ambulance came and made sure I was okay. To be perfectly honest, I’m extremely shaken, but not a scratch. I have a bump on my right shin. I have a bruise on my left thigh. My lower right ribs are tender. I was shaking glass out of my hair and pulling it out of the crack of my ass. I don’t even want to think about that, ever again. EVer.

They asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I’d told them no. I probably shouldn’t have. I will be going there in the morning after I wake up. I probably should have the ribs checked.

One thing I will say- I have some pretty bad-ass survival instincts.

Anyway- fucking drunk drivers. Just. Don’t.

Fuck.”

I’ve since been recovering, having been prescribed pain killers, muscle relaxers, and high doses of ibuprofen. I haven’t yet picked up any instruments. My wrist is not ready for the bass, nor do I think I’d be comfortable spreading my fingers to play keyboards.

I can sing, though. I can fucking scream- at the top of my motherfucking lungs. I want to- I really do.