I loves me some OU. I do, I do, I do.
The "Twig" is treating me pretty damn good. My 3D-slash-photography prof, Craig "Larry" Fetherolf, is my new hero.
I've been proclaimed the "groper" of the darkroom in photo class... so all six of you sharing that space with me, beware! Bwahaha.
And Jeeeesus bless cheap, in-state tuition and small classes and actually having friends and not hating life. Yay!
--
In other news, car wrecks suck. I would finish that sentence with "so don't get into them," but as Rickey and I know well enough, they're often not avoidable. For all of you who think you're fine to drive when you've had a little (or a lot) to drink -- FUCK YOU. I don't give a goddamn how fantastic of a driver you think you are, driving drunk is one of the dumbest fucking things you could do with a vehicle.
Anyway, for those of you who I didn't tell (which is pretty much everyone, because I haven't felt like talking about it at all,) Rickey and I were driving home from Ashland on 52 at about 10 in the evening on March 9th (yes, Josh's birthday) and this drunk fuck ran the stop sign at the beginning of Old 52 and plowed right into the passenger side of our car. At this point I was knocked unconscious, so I don't know exactly what happened after that except for what Rickey's told me. So yeah, he knocked us clear across the highway into the other lane, but for some reason (involving physics, which I didn't take in high school [lol],) the car managed to pull itself back across the highway so we didn't get plowed by a semi (which almost did happen, for the record.) According to the people that stopped to help and the cops, the guy got out of his truck and
took the fuck off. Yeah, he ran. (Only reason he came back a while later, apparently, was because he crushed one side of his chest in the wreck and wanted medical attention.)
So they took us to Cabell, which fucking SUCKS by the way, where they pretty much ignore Rickey's injuries (his face was split open by the air bag) and they x-rayed my left ankle (thought it was sprained) and right leg (thought it was broken) and CT-scanned my head (and abdomen) to make sure I didn't have any trauma since my forehead was sliced up, probably from hitting the passenger side window.
Oh, yeah, and it took them like three fucking hours to let me pee (the chick who did my CT-scan looked at me and was like, "You've really got to pee, huh?" since my bladder apparently looked like it was going to explode on the CT.) When they finally did send someone, they sent this poor, confused male nurse who had to finagle my pants off of me over my busted-up legs and get a bedpan under me -- while I'm still stuck in a fucking neck brace (which was uncomfortable as hell, btw.) So yeah, had to pee so bad I overflowed the sucker... and what does he do? Throws a piece of paper under me and leave me in a puddle. Gross.
They didn't find anything broken, and didn't think my head needed any stitches, so they put my gigantic ankle in an air cast and gave me crutches, which I could barely use because a) I fucked up my left thumb in the wreck (which they didn't bother to check on) and therefore couldn't sufficiently grip one of the crutches, and b) they expected me to support my weight on the leg they had originally thought was fucking
broken.
So yeah, almost a month and a half later, and though I'm worlds better than I was right after the wreck, I'm still not quite functioning correctly. My thumb still gives me issues, though I had an x-ray of it the other day and it's not fractured or anything (though they did see a fracture in another finger, ie., the one I fucked up at band camp in August '05 that Cabell didn't see a fracture in and told me was "probably sprained". Yeah.) My left ankle is still swollen most of the time, and its range of motion isn't too hot, but I'm going to physical therapy for it three days a week and I've got an x-ray of that on Monday just in case there is a fracture in it that Cabell missed (since it should be calcified by now, it'd show up better.) My right leg is probably giving me the most trouble -- I've got this lump on my shin that my doctor is pretty sure is a hematoma, and if I'm on my feet for very long, my whole leg swells up. I'm getting that x-rayed on Monday, too, just in case the hematoma is overtop a fracture in my tibia. Oh, and the cuts on my head still have pieces of glass in them, so I have to wait for those chunks to work their ways out. I pulled one chunk out a few weeks after the wreck that was probably half a centimeter across, and the sad thing was that it was just sticking out of my head, covered in a little dried blood, and neither I nor the ER doc at Cabell noticed it. Yeah, I kept that one.
For those of you who are wondering why the hell I haven't said anything about it to you... well, there are a few reasons, none of which have to do with how much I looove you or anything personal like that. Pretty much, between relaying the story to doctors, PTs, insurance agents, and concerned people who notice I look a little mangled, and filling out insurance forms and going to PT and doc appointments and not being able to sleep and having flashbacks to the moment of impact worrying about legal odds and ends and just being in pain all the damn time... I really haven't wanted to talk about it. Buuut, at the same time, I've felt horrible for pretty much cutting myself off from people and being a hermit. And I'm in a bit of a manic mood at the moment and, well, ramblings like this happen then.
And for anyone who's curious, the cat that hit us got a slap on the wrist, and would have gotten less had Rickey, my mom, and Rickey's mom not spoken up and protested the original sentence (which in places other than Lawrence County probably would have gotten them charge with something... but no. lol)
In summation: Don't go to the Cabell ER unless you have to, because they're a lawsuit waiting to happen. Oh, and don't drink and drive. And if you have to go to court for your sentencing, don't strut in like you're the shit in an old Cleveland Browns t-shirt, acid-wash jeans, combat boots, and mullet -- in a normal court (ie., not Lawrence County Municipal Court, Chesapeake, Ohio,) that's just asking for it.
Also, friends don't take their gimpy-and-on-crutches friends to buffets. Unless those friends are Tristan and Evan. So maybe that sentence should read, "Friends
shouldn't take..."
Yada, yada, yada. I'm done now. I probably said too much.
<edit 9:54pm> Forgot to post the link to the photos of the car and stuff, so yeah,
here.
