Blog > Stories > Fiction > Three Months In Hell – Part 2
Three Months In Hell – Part 2
Written by botox on Saturday, February 14, 2009
Jim returned with the board but the other one still kept examining me and asking questions, “Did you have a seat belt on?”
“Yes, but I panicked and crawled over here after the wreck,” I said, “Not too smart was it?”
“Just be calm and let us do the work. I’m Connor. That’s Jim,” said the paramedic, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Anise,” I said, “How bad is it? Really, I want to know.”
“Well, we don’t know but your legs looks fine, just a few scratches. You might need a stitch or staple but nothing to worry about. You may have other problems but you’re alive,” said Connor, “It can only get better from here!”
“I hope so!” I said with a sigh, “I don’t want to miss any work if I can avoid it. I just moved her and started a new job two weeks ago.”
The policeman asked me some questions, too! I told him I was buckled in and the car hit me in the side and spun me around. I was sure I had a the right of way since he was supposed to stop. He made some notes and asked how fast I was going. I thought I was doing the speed limit as I was nearing my turn.
Another officer came over and spoke to him but I didn’t hear him, only the reply, “OK, get him checked out and make sure they do a blood alcohol test.”
That was when I first thought the guy that hit me was drunk. The officer would not confirm it but did mention he was walking around after the accident, slurring his words.
Jim and Connor were still cutting away pieces of the car that were in the way as they worked to get me out of my car. The policeman helped them position me onto the backboard. It was incredibly and unbearably painful. I thought I was going to pass out as my legs flopped about, seemingly unattached to the rest of body in the normal way.
After what seemed like the longest and most painful event in my life, I was laying on a backboard on the ground, staring up into the night sky. Despite my horrific pain and suffering, it was a calming moment. That was when I thought it was going to be OK and I was being looked after.
Unfortunately, that was the only bright spot in my life so far. Since then my life has been miserable and I’m suffering from depression. I’ve lost weight and I was slim before the accident. They bring me food but I’m not hungry at all. The pain never goes away. I can only drive back the aches with heavy medication that just pushes it below the threshold of wanting to die.
On the way to the hospital, Jim drove and Connor stayed with me. He kept asking me questions like my birthday and what day it was. He also poked at me and asked if I felt it or not. Sometimes I don’t think he poked me at all to see if I was faking it.
We soon arrived at the hospital and I was swarmed by so many faces looking down on me that I thought I would smother. All of them talking, some yelling and others just observing. It was as if I was an alien to this world, and I was to the medical field. I’d never been in a hospital other than to visit a sick relative or friend until today. At 24 I thought I was invincible. I would soon learn how fragile life was and the difference between living and just surviving.
A nurse and a doctor proceeded to drape a gown over me as another nurse cut my favorite blouse off of me. I already knew my skirt had been cut up at the scene. Another doctor looked into my eyes and shined a light into them. Someone I could not see asked me to push on their hands with my feet. Yet another person said they were inserting an IV line. Not much of it was directed at me. It was mostly just medical chatter keeping the others abreast of things like vitals and my condition.
As quickly as they had come, all but a nurse left. Another person came and rolled me into a room labeled radiology. I was transferred, backboard and all, to something and they asked me to be still, as if I had a choice, while they scanned me. It turns out they did a full set of CT scans to check for internal injuries and broken bones. In a few minutes they rolled me back out to the trauma treatment room where it was eerily quiet and I could only see the white tile ceiling.
I lay there without any pain medication or anything. I was alone except for the nurse that said I could have some meds after the doctor looked at my images. They would not let me drink anything for fear I might need surgery. Then I had to pee, again. My clothes were already cut off and all I had on was a gown but I needed to pee badly. As a matter of fact, I could feel a trickle running down my rear even as I attempted to hold it.
“Ma’am!” I said, not able to see if anyone was even in the room, “Nurse? I need to pee!”
Tags: Extrication Collar, HALO, Hospital
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