NOT FUNNY

"I ran into an old friend the other day….literally!"  ("Ba-Boom"-- rim-shot sound).

Nope, too soon.  Not funny yet.  Probably not funny ever.

I was in a car accident a week ago today.   One minute I was driving on a familiar city street a couple miles from my house, looking for the laundromat I knew was around that stretch of road somewhere. Our washer had broken down and I had about two weeks worth of laundry in my trunk.  I spied the laundromat on my left, just one building in on the cross street.  I must have started my turn….

Then I felt the impact, heard the metal-on-metal crash, felt my car spinning in the street and landing 180 degrees in the opposite direction, airbag deflating in front of me emitting the powdery propellent that in my dazed state I assumed might be smoke which might mean fire which might mean my car would explode.  This thought was formed in slow motion, as I pondered so amazingly calmly, "Maybe I should get out of the car"…but my body sat perfectly still sort of mulling over this suggestion.  I reached in slow motion for my cell phone and tried to push the numbers to call 911, but I noticed my hand was shaking and I couldn't put my fingers on the right numbers.  Then I heard someone screaming behind me and noticed people rushing from houses and businesses and soon a woman standing next to my window asking me to open my door.

I did.  And this calm presence, a woman I now call Angel Sarah, took charge.  She assured me 911 had been called.  She took my phone and called my husband, called my insurance company, and never left my side, reassuring me and telling me the other car's driver and passenger were OK, letting me know everything was fine, fine, fine.

But I didn't feel so fine.  I was stunned, but aware.  Time seemed to have slowed down, but I was oriented, answered all the questions appropriately.  I had bumped my head on something, but not badly.  My chest was sore and raw from the seat belt and airbag which had done their jobs.  I was told an airbag hitting the body is like being punched.  It felt like it.

Hub showed up and took charge of the tow truck decisions and the hospital decision (we decided against -- he would monitor me at home).  He cleaned out my car thinking it might have been totaled and I'd never see my precious Prius again.  He also talked to the investigating officer, who said no tickets needed to be issued; it was simply an accident.  I didn't see the oncoming little VW bug in the rain; maybe he was in my blind spot; maybe he had just pulled out from the curb….lots of "maybes" still hanging out there a week later and the insurance companies are figuring it all out.

My body is mostly recovered, I think.  Still a sore chest and bruising there and a little back tweak now and then.

My heart is slower to recover.  I want that split second back, that moment of not seeing his car.   Then there was the shock of looking at the driver information and realizing I knew the driver of the VW -- he is a childhood friend of Son-One.  He is the little boy I met when his mom and I stood in line on the first day of Kindergarten, weepy and happy, and started a friendship that would last all the way through middle school, and while not as close, still with fondness and caring, through high school.  But I've not seen him or his mom in 10 years.  Still….

I had to reach out to him, so the next day I did.  His compassion for me was equal to mine for him and our brief exchange was healing.

Yet, I am still reliving the moment.  The shock of the impact, the sound of the crash, the surreal aftermath of a sudden jolt from the mundane to the extraordinary.  I have spent a week in deep sadness, lots of tears, roaring anxieties, some moments of calm and grace, a lot of introspection and newfound compassion for anyone who experiences trauma of any kind.

I also notice I feel embarrassed, even ashamed, about my part in this accident.  I am truly fuzzy on the details even yet, but I know I was turning left and he would have had the right of way.  If there is "fault" to be laid, it has to be at my feet, right?  It's hard to get past this.

I have been driving for 47 years.  I can remember only three traffic tickets - running a yellow light; going 40 in a 30 MPH zone; turning up a street in my neighborhood closed to turning traffic between 7 a.m. - 9a.m.  I've been in three traffic accidents -- one going so slowly in a parking lot that no damage was done, one consisting of hitting a pole in a parking lot, and this one.  I'm a safe and cautious driver.

But now I don't trust myself.  Every other car looks like a missile to be avoided.  I'm jumpy and tense. Hub has been doing "ride-a-longs" with me in our rental car and I am getting better.  Yesterday we drove back to that laundromat, taking the same route.  I felt pretty calm and actually curious about what could possibly have happened.  At the intersection we noticed there is a huge blind spot where a car could get lost and I was grateful, again, that my rate of speed on impact was likely about 10 MPH as I slowed to turn.

But ultimately none of that matters.  It matters that it happened.  It matters that thankfully no one was seriously injured.  It matters that I have some work to do now to regain my confidence, to feel the same compassion for myself that I would offer to others in my situation, to look at what I can learn about myself, about life, about grace.

At least, that's the view from here… ©