Some of you, if my inbox is any indication, are quite worried about me, wondering why I haven't posted in several weeks. I regret the necessity. Here's the reason.
On the afternoon of August 28th, after a very pleasant solo lunch out with friends, I was hit by a drunk driver who ran a red light and plowed into the left rear quarter-panel of my car at an estimated eighty miles per hour.
The casualties: a totaled car, multiple cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, sprained back, wrenched knee, some damage to cervical vertebrae, minor bumps and abrasions and one truly astounding bruise on my chest from the seatbelt, and most importantly, a severe concussion bad enough to keep me in a sleep so deep it was near a coma for about two weeks. But, astoundingly, nothing permanent, maiming or disfiguring, or lasting, and nothing that's going to leave any scars. The doctors and nurses who've been taking very good care of me say I must have an angel watching over me. I didn't see any reason to argue that I'm an atheist, because I figured they might actually have a point.
The police say it could have been much worse but he only struck me a glancing blow. The problem is that at eighty MPH, even a glancing blow is pretty damn bad. I have no memory of the wreck, but witnesses say that I almost managed to get out of his way (thank you, reflexes) or he would have plowed straight into my side, and then things could have ended much worse for me. As it was, my car spun around almost 720 degrees and rolled.
I was out, out, like a candle, for another two weeks. I'm told I drifted in and out but was never "up" for more than five minutes at a time. When I swam back to consciousness for good, it was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Not a very happy day to awaken, but paradoxically so for me. When the green ripper has had his swing at you and missed, any day is a happy day. I spent several more days in the hospital for observation and came home on the afternoon of the 15th.
Fortunately for me, there will be no legal wranglings from this because the other driver died at the scene after going through the windshield (not only was he so drunk he had a near-fatal BAC of .42, but he also was stupid enough not to wear a seatbelt). He was also insured (thank you, fates) so his insurance company, rather than my own, is paying for my two-week hospital stay and is giving me a fairly generous settlement for my beloved car (and my smashed cellphone, which happened to be on the seat alongside me and thus wound up rather the worse for its traumatic battering). They will also be paying for my doctor visits for my neck injuries, which will require some therapy for an undetermined time.
So I got back online yesterday and found a blizzard of messages in my inbox wondering where I was and whether I was okay. So, yes: I'm okay now, or will be soon. My neck hurts, my ribs hurt, my knee hurts, my wrist hurts (they say I should get the cast off in another couple weeks -- at least it's not my dominant hand), and I still get killer headaches about once a day -- but I'm alive, and hanging in there, and getting better every day. My partner has been taking very good care of me and doting on me hand and foot. I'm lucky to have her, and luckier still that she wasn't in the car with me to be victimized as well.
So, now you know (as Paul Harvey would say) The Rest of the Story. There will be a new FFF challenge next Monday, but until then, be of good cheer, love each other, and don't fucking drink and drive.