Max’s car is totaled which I feel horrible about; but there’s nothing we can do. His dad advised him to only get liability so he did. I of course disagree with many things his dad tells him to do but no one ever listens to me. In fact, his dad wants to make him rebuild the car, not let him drive ever (he told my mom not to let him drive her car also), and pretty much rub it in his face. Don’t you think he feels bad enough about it all?
The backseat of the car:
Front of the car:
Side of the car:
Back of the car:
Driver's Seat:
The Passenger's Seat:
Car getting towed back to town:
Me the night after the wreck:
Max got away with a mild concussion (if that) and two scrapes. They didn’t even bleed. That night we came home and I cried over his bruise and scrapes because they could have been so much worse and I don’t even want to think about what I’d do without him.
I on the other hand have eighteen stitches in my left knee, several cuts and scratches on my right. I also have a grade three concussion; for those of you unfamiliar with this; a grade three concussion is where you blacked/passed out, are disoriented, confused for more than twenty minutes, and have memory loss. A possible broken nose but since it’s still in line the doctor couldn’t really say (and they can’t do anything about it), my glasses did a lot of damage. My nose was bleeding down my throat but not out, it’s bruised on the bridge, my eye is cut, and below my eye is lacerated. The bones in my face are bruised and there’s a significant amount of tissue swelling.
Now for the story; we were coming around a turn I know perfectly. I should have advised Max about it. I knew that turn; I grew up on these roads. I know them like the palm of my hand. I could drive along them with my eyes closed. But I’m a dumb a**. I was distracting him while he was driving. We were playing around, making jokes, I was making a video with my camera and these little gummy butterflies, we were fighting over one (playfully) and although he may have been paying attention to the road he wasn’t paying enough attention. And I was an idiot. It’s my entire fault. I’ll make him broke from all the expenses because of my stupidity and I’ve paid in my flesh and blood by the pound. In fact; the entire interior was splattered with my blood, so were my clothes, and his. We were going a little fast for the turn but most of all we weren’t in the correct angle to make the turn, that’s when a patch of gravel and sand was hit. It caused him to slide. At that point he tried to correct the angle; and if there was another 10 feet of road we would have been fine. The tires screaming showed we would not have rolled and would have stayed on the pavement. And if the guardrail hadn’t been there we would have just drove down the embankment. The car hit the guardrail at an angle frontally on the right (passenger) side. At this point we became airborne and I blacked out. My mother watched it in the review mirror of her car and both her and Max claim we did a corkscrew flip and then rolled once. I woke back at the point we met the ground, I remember metal and plastic screaming along the ground. We ended up on the hood of the car. No airbags deployed although they should have; I most likely wouldn’t have been banged around as much if they did. Thankfully we were able to get out easily. The front window was blown in and the back out. We were able to crawl out of the back window. The backseat was torn loose and thrown out the back window also. When I got loose form the seatbelt all I was worried about was my camera ($100), MP3 player ($90 gift for our two-year anniversary), phone, and how much everything will cost. I kneeled and crawled around in the glass trying to grab as much of our belongings as possible. At one point I kneeled on a piece of glass and heard a crunch; that’s when I realized how much blood there was. My knee was seeping blood. There were many onlookers; some directing traffic, others calling the cops and ambulances, and one made a compress on my knee out of my youngest brother’s shirt, my scarf, and Max’s nametag for work. I feel bad for covering the shirt and nametag with my blood. Panic and shock didn’t set in until Max decided to climb back into the car. We were going to drive back to Winfield on our own and then a cop spotted us a quarter of the way there and flagged down the ambulances. That’s when my hysterics and babbling started. They asked me so many questions that I couldn’t answer well or slurred my speech with; and to help it all I couldn’t remember anything that happened. When we went in the ER Max was talkative and charming to everyone. He was loud and himself. I had to sit on a stretcher for an hour and a half while they did a CT scan and everything. And those things aren’t exactly comfortable; I came out with more bruises from that than the crash!
Yesterday (Monday) was hell. I honestly wonder if I’m so irritated because of the concussion or not (concussions can change the makeup and how your brain works; causing irritation and depression). We had to pay the towing fees for the car, pick up the police report, and just sit around in the hot weather. Which normally would be irritating but I don’t feel like going anywhere, let alone sit around and be hot while in pain. On the police report they say they took pictures so I hope we can contact them and have copies faxed to the local police department. I’d love to see how the car looked crushed and upside down. Max also had to go file it with his insurance. I am kind of glad he has liability though; I don’t have the money for ambulance fees and emergency room costs, and everything! The medical card may pay some of it but I don’t know how much; and my new glasses were crushed between the top of my seat and the roof of the car. The lady at the optometrists tried to bend them back into shape… that resulted in them snapping in half.
The good thing is I can joke about what happened, and so can Max although he’s a little more stricken by it all. And we’re alive. I’ll have some pretty scars to show off and most likely some long term short term memory loss.
The stitches were the worst thing, I’m afraid of needles, sharp things, and surgery (including being sewed up). I sat the entire time holding a puke bowl over my face and whimpering. It only hurt when he stuck the needle IN THE WOUNDS to numb them. The stitches come out in a week (next Monday) at which point I can talk about seeing a neurologist.
