Temping, Sideswipes, and Crooked Tow Truck Drivers Part #4

This is the Part four of a five part story. Read 1, 2, and 3 by clicking on the number.

I wish I could describe what it is like riding in an ambulance, but I do not think I can. I was strapped onto a board. The ambulance's shocks were shot. The only thing I can think to compare it to is when I played hockey. For the first couple of years I wore socks. Then I switched to not wearing socks. Without socks, you can actually feel the ice. The ambulance ride was like that. I could every single imperfection in the road. Everytime the ambulance veered off of the grooves that had been developed in the road I felt it. Every crack that had been filled in with tar, I felt. It was brutal. After two minutes, I immediately regretted taking an ambulance to the hospital. The trip took fifteen minutes, and for the second time in my life, I was admitted into a hospital. The first time was the day I was born, and this just happened to be the same hospital. Talk about coming full circle.

There is nothing exciting about being admitted to the hospital, except that they told me several times they did not want to see my insurance because I had come in by ambulance, and by law, they have to heal me regardless of insurance. This was cool, because I had no insurance. So they tossed me on a bed, and a nurse came by asking me where it hurt. She was not very attractive, so refrained from attempting to get a subtle hand job. I told her my hip hurt, and she prodded a bit, while asking if I was healthy. True to my honesty policy, I told her I did not have a healthy lifestyle. I told her about my love affair with sodium, cigarettes and beer. She gave me the eye, that I suppose other people would take as "You seriously need to re-evaluate your lifestyle." That was lost on me. I am incorrigible.

Then, I was rolled down to the X-Raying room so they could see if I broke my pelvis. The nurses were very respectful, turning away when I pulled down my pants, though I tried to get them to sneak a peek at my package. My package is not that impressive but I figured some witty banter would get them to look. I guess that my lines were all tired, so they ignored my advances (this was before I saw the Viva La Bam episode where you could see his junk in the X-Ray. At this time, I had no clue what came through, I figured it would just be my bones).

After the X-Rays, I was taken back down to my room. The only thing I really remember about my room, was that the person in the closed off section next to me was a hypochondriac. The staff was telling her that there were no problems at this time, but if such and such happened she should come back. They talked to her like they knew her, and like she had been in many times before.

Eventually the doctor came in to see me. He said that he was going to look at my X-Rays. I said thanks, let me know if you find anything. He left, and this was the time I realized I would need a ride home from the hospital. I reached into my left pocket to pull out my cell phone, and when I pulled it out, I saw that it had been crushed. It had taken the brunt of the impact of the crash, and the crystal face had been shattered. Remember when your calculator broke and the stuff inside piled up in the corner? My phone was like that. I could turn it on, but could see nothing. It even made the noise when I turned it on, but it was really worthless. I would not be making anymore calls from that phone.

The doc came back and told me that nothing was broken and gave some pain pill prescription. I asked how to dial out on the phone. He said dial eight and left. I called my parents on the phone, and thankfully my dad answered. Remember, my parents were hosting a party that night. I told my dad that I had gotten into a car accident and was at [this] hospital. He said, Ok, and he would be right there.

It was nearly 11 at that time, so there was no valid reason for my Dad leaving the party. He told me that he told my Mom, I will be right back, and left it at that. It is amazing what a trustworthy relationship allows you to do.

So my pop came and picked me up, discharged me from the hospital and we headed back. At first, the people at the party were shocked to see me, but after explaining what happened, they understood, and all agreed that I needed a drink. I agreed and had several beers over the next couple of hours.

Thankfully, I did not have to drive home, because my sister, the cheerleading coach, was also my roommate. She drove me back home, and I passed out, not wanting to know what the next couple of days would bring.

To be continued . . .