As I write this post I am reflecting on the weather outside and how vastly different it is to two years ago today. Not in a climate change sense (it's real), but in the sense that two years ago at this time I was having the time of my life at the first ever home MLS game for Minnesota United. And it was snowing. Like a lot. I had known it was going to snow, but I was determined to make it to the game and be able to say that I had been to the first ever Minnesota United home MLS game.
Today, the weather is dreary. It's raining (I can hear the pipes gurgling in the background). But that is a welcome change from the feet of snow we've had piled on in the past few weeks. Honestly, I welcome the rain. But I wouldn't mind some sun. Soon I have to trudge up the hill to go to a staff meeting. But if I were transported to where I was two years ago, I would rather trudge up the hill.
The game was amazing, I do not regret going at all. And I don't blame anyone except the weather and myself for what happened. Now that that's out of the way, I'll get to what you came here for: how I ended up on bedrest my freshman year of college.
I drove myself up to the game that day and the roads were fine. Maybe a few flurries of snow here and there, but nothing an old seasoned Minnesotan driver (of almost three years) couldn't handle. I didn't even think twice about the weather. I pulled into Surly (a brewing company near TCF bank stadium that will forever hold a dear spot in my heart) and enjoyed the game (even though we absolutely got destroyed).
The plan was for my dad to drive me from Surly and drop me off at my car at the Mall of America--where parking is free and abundant--and I would drive home myself. No problem, right?
Wrong. Not even ten minutes into my drive back to St. Peter (ya girl had a 9am the next day) I could tell the drive was going to be less than ideal. And that my hands would be sore from clenching my steering wheel for an hour, or more. But I figured that would be the extent of "injuries" to stem from that particular drive back.
Wrong. Fifteen minutes into my drive a car in front of me on the four-lane freeway slowed down in front of me--and for context, we were going about 30, maybe 35 tops--causing me to lightly press the brakes. Lo and behold I decided to press them at the exact time my car was traveling over black ice.
The next thing I knew I was in the world's worst edition of the Teacup ride at Disneyworld and spinning across four lanes of packed traffic. And then I came to a stop backwards directly facing oncoming traffic. Ideal, right?
Wrong. I look up through the wave of tears that were already descending to see a car headed straight at me. The driver and I make eye contact and simultaneously say: "fuck" as his car comes barreling into mine.
After the impact everything begins to blur in my memory. But I remember bits and pieces. Like how I called my dad before I called 911 (classic Ella move). How an off-duty police officer stopped traffic completely to make sure my car got off the road (it was totaled). How the other driver, in a car that wasn't totaled, stayed while we waited for the police officers. How my dad helped me through everything. How I couldn't stop shaking. How it took what felt like years for the police officers to get there (if my memory proves correct, it was actually about an hour and a half). How I felt like I was floating. How I felt practically nothing.
As I rode back to school, upon leaving my car at a gas-station auto-repair shop conveniently right off the freeway, I was convinced I would come out of my car accident virtually unharmed. Maybe a sore muscle here or there.
Wrong. As I walked back up to my dorm room carrying a light plastic bag my back began to spasm and I had to lean against the wall of the elevator and take deep breaths to make it back to my room. As I collapsed on my bed I could tell that things were going to get worse.
And worse they got. The next morning I woke up and I could not move my neck. I'm talking, if someone was behind me I wouldn't be able to turn my head to look at them. And my back wouldn't stop spasming. On top of that, the insurance companies of both parties wouldn't stop calling. I recognize that legally I'm an adult, but does an 18 year old girl really understand the ins and outs of her auto insurance policy?
No. I waited a few days to see if pain relievers would do anything. And if minimizing my movement helped at all. And did it?
No. After a few days I was ordered to make a doctor's appointment and go I went. Well, I had to have my roommate drive me in her car. Because I couldn't (a) drive because of my back and (b) my car was totaled and sitting off a freeway in the cities.
As I made my way through a decently long doctor's appointment that included a few x-rays (one indicated I could have fractured my neck--I didn't) and a few doctors taking a look at my back, I learned through nonverbal cues that I wouldn't be doing much of anything for the time being.
Specifically, I would be on bedrest for two-ish weeks and going to weekly physical therapy appointments. As someone who enjoys being active (approximately three times a week) it was these were not welcome restrictions.
But luckily, my back "healed" fairly quickly, although I do have some back spasms every now and then these days, though they are few and far between. I wasn't able to lift things heavier than my backpack for about three-ish months, I was happy enough to go for walks longer than a mile upon my "graduation" from physical therapy.
I could go on and on about what my car accident taught me, but I'll spare you the details (for now). But if I could give you one takeaway it would be this: look at the weather before taking a drive, it might save you a few doctor's appointments and car shopping.
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