Did I Tell You About The Time…

….my mother died and then I had a head-on collision a couple of days later?

Yeah, so that happened.

I think y’all have heard me gripe about our frat boy neighbors across the street a time or two, amiright?

Well, one of them got up close and personal with me the day we were traveling to my mother’s funeral a couple of weeks ago.

And I don’t mean that in a good way.  He hit me, head on, on our street as I was taking the critters in for boarding.  They are fine, by the way. Me, not so much, but I digress.

He was turning onto our street at a “T” intersection, and I was coming up to the intersection to turn off the street.  When he turned, he cut the corner really sharp and accelerated – as you do, when you’re 19 and too cool for school – when he looked up, and remembered this isn’t England a millisecond before his Beemer hit my Impala smack in the nose.  One inch to the right and my airbags would have deployed, likely totaling my car, but the gods of mechanical shit were with me and instead of totaled, the car sustained about $5K in damage.  He bent the frame when his little car went under mine or else it wouldn’t have been so much.

Amazing what an impact at 20 mph will do to a car and the bodies inside.

So, after he hits me I just sat there staring at him through the windshield and after a minute this big boy, covered in tattoos, gets out of his car..and he’s crying.

Crying.  There’s no crying in car crashes. But there he was, crying like a baby about having just had a crash “and it’s my fault” he kept saying.

Damn right it was, and I was pissed…and this is what happened next as I sat in the driver seat dialing 9-1-1 as he approached me.

ME: What the fuck? HOW did YOU  not see ME??

CRYBABY: I don’t know. I just….*sobs*

ME: Stop being a pussy, will you?  Are you hurt?

CRYBABY: *hic* No.

ME: Well, I am..my chest hurts and I’ve got the cops and fire department coming.

CRYBABY: *wails*

ME: Geez…you live across the street from me, right?

CRYBABY: *sniffle* Yes

ME: First, why the fuck do you think I want to hear your music all hours of the day and night?? TURN THAT SHIT DOWN!!

CRYBABY: *sniff* Okay.

ME: And that has nothing to do with this. I just saw an opportunity. Now, the police are coming, everyone’s fine, you just stay where you are.

*an aside, I’ve had dipshits try to run on me before – this is accident #7 and twice that’s happened*

CRYBABY: I’m not fucking going anywhere.

ME: Don’t you talk to me that way, young man!

CRYBABY: (stares at the profane old lady in the car)

So, the police and hunky firemen came (seriously, why are all firemen so damned cute?) and checked me out.  My chest was bruised, and I had a goose egg on my knee from hitting the dash.

I rode to my mother’s house with an ice pack strapped to my knee.  And every breath hurt.

I thought I was fine.

I’m cute when I’m in denial.

Last weekend, two weeks after this incident, I noticed a GIANT lump in my chest.  Looks like I’m growing a third tit, and it hurts a whole helluva lot.

What. The. Fuck.

My doctor took x-rays and said I fractured the xiphoid bone, and have a large hematoma (third tit) in my chest.

No worries, none of that is as bad as it sounds. It’ll heal on its own and the hematoma isn’t in a vein or anything.  It’s on the bone and surrounding cartilage.  It’ll just take time. Time and ice.  Really, ice seems to help a lot. But, I can’t go around with an ice pack in my bra at work.  Stupid social rules and shit like “propriety” get in the way.

Since the day of the crash, I’ve been trying to get Crybaby’s insurance to accept liability.  First, they had no copy of the police report.  Then, no copy of the report AND Crybaby was not responding to calls or letters. Then Crybaby said it was MY fault, and they were investigating.

THEN, this morning I went all bitcharoni on their asses in a pain-induced fit of rage. Lo and behold, they have their reports, they got his statement, and they are 100% sure they are accepting liability.

Hallelujah, holy shit, where’s the Tylenol?

 

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Posted on May 16, 2016, in Uncategorized, You Have Got to Be Kidding and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.

  1. Awwww…I was going to say I was glad this had a good-ish ending. But it doesn’t really… 😦 Sorry you had to go through all this with your Mom, and your third boob.and your bitcharoniness, but mostly your Mom.

  2. Hope you feel better soon. To hell with social convention! Make an ice bra, wear it proudly! Glad the insurance company came to their senses before you crawled through the phone and strangled some one.

  3. There needs to be a law that doesn’t allow parents to die. Within a week of my Mommy’s death, I rear-ended a dude in a car so new they hadn’t even removed all the little foam rubber blocks from its corners. He must have worked for the dealership, altho that doesn’t explain the kid bouncing around in the back seat. No injuries, thankfully, but my car was totaled, and being “at fault” hurt in more ways than one. Biggest issue was trusting myself to drive again, knowing that grief can grab you in a heartbeat, as it did, and you forget what you’re doing.

    I’m sorry you were injured, on top of everything else. Glad the insurance is going to pay, though. How are you holding up, otherwise?

    • And make no mistake, honey, although I was dealing with a lot this was NOT my fault. Dude was FULLY in my lane. His insurance is ponying up, got my car back last week and it’s fine. Me? The lump in my chest is slowly receding, so that’s a good thing. I’m so sorry for your loss and your loss and your subsequent fears. I hope this is long past you now. Hugs to you. 🙂

      • It’s nearly ten years, now, so it’s definitely “long past me”. I still mourn Mommy. I don’t think about always driving a manual transmission car because I rear-ended some other idiot in an automatic. Every once in awhile, I remember that the other driver had a kid unbuckled in the back seat, and I count myself incredibly grateful and LUCKY that I wasn’t help accountable for his inattention re: the kid.

        I just love driving a manual-transmission car, because it means I have to Pay Attention While Driving. Plus, I’m on my third Yellow Car, so, who knows? 😉

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