It wasn't anything poetic like in the movies. No slow motion. No white lights. No seeing my life flashing before me in a beautiful, fading out series of slides.
It was much more confusing. The movement of a deer across the road creeping into my peripheral vision. Hitting the brakes - certain that the deer was going to dash in front of me and hoping that by hitting
the brakes I could avoid hitting
it. And then hearing the thud to my left and feeling the glass in my lap and on my neck and at my feet. And the sensation of something cool and round on my thighs that I didn't have the courage to look at until I had pulled over to the side of the road. I remember thinking that if it was my own blood, I was going to be okay. If it was part of the animal that had just t-boned my car, I was going to lose it.
I've never been so happy to see a side view mirror in my life. No longer attached to the driver's side door but resting in my lap as if the deer had left it for me as a present.
Slowly I drove to the side of the road, the pieces of glass making horrible crunching noises every time I turned the wheel, moved my body, or shifted gears. And finally, I turned the car off and everything stopped.
And thus began what I thought was going to be a routine Tuesday morning with a swim practice at Lost Creek followed by a day of work and then a core + spin workout in the evening. I never made it to the pool. Well, I did, but only to shower and go to work. I actually wanted to swim once I got there - there was so much adrenalin pulsing through my system that I felt like swimming would calm me down. But thankfully, I listened to Jess (which I'd been doing since the accident) and showered and cleaned up and drove to work instead. Which was probably a good thing because as the sun rose and I saw my car in the parking lot as I got in it to go to work, the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Which was a sign that I'd been in a small state of shock up until then. I'm not sure why, but the tears didn't actually flow until I sat at my desk at work and picked up the phone to call the insurance company again after talking to Catharine on the phone, getting a text from Laurie, and sending a quick email to Jess. Well, I know exactly why I didn't cry until then - that's my usual m.o.: hold it together through the crisis and the "must-do"s and then let the emotions flow as soon as everything has been done.
It's a funny thing, the stages that you go through when something like this happens, especially if you see it coming and know you can't really do anything about it. I've never been in a wreck where things shattered and parts of the car that belong on the outside end up on the inside. I've never really had a moment where I thought, "Well, this could be it" while I was driving. I've been lucky. And actually, I got lucky again on Tuesday. For all of the millions of pieces of glass shattered around me and in the road, for all of the force with which the deer hit me, for all of the deer hair that was on my car and in my car, I really was okay. A tad shaken. In need of a good, clear-thinking mind (enter Jess). But okay.
I'm not sure if you believe in guardian angels or in people being at the right place at the right time, but if ever I were a doubter about those things, Tuesday would have made me a believer. For all of the ways in which I thought I was in the wrong place at the wrong time (r.e. the deer crossing the road), I was in exactly the right place at the right time to have Jess right behind me on Lost Creek Blvd. I'm usually behind her somewhere because she's usually running early/on time and I'm usually running on time/late-
ish, but today we were both on time. Which was serendipity in and of itself - I knew that as soon as I saw another car pulling over and noticed it was Jess. Calm and reassuring as always, she confirmed that I was okay (that there wasn't some massive cut I couldn't see!), gave me a big hug, reminded me to breathe (evidently my heart rate was a tad high), and starting running through the checklist of what I needed to do. (After answering my questions, including one about the deer. She confirmed it had run away...which probably deepened my shock!) Jess called 3-1-1 to tell them about the glass in the road. I called my insurance company to start that process. And we both stood in the dark for what seemed like hours but was actually about 20 minutes. (As I think about it now, especially as I realize just how closely Jess was following me down Lost Creek, I'm amazed at her calm state of mind. She didn't act rattled at all at having been a witness to the accident. I don't know if I could have mustered that. I'm forever grateful that she did.)
It's funny how life goes from everything happening so quickly that you can hardly take it all in to moving at the speed of a turtle. And in those quiet moments, that's where the processing begins. The questions: what could I have done? how did this happen? just how bad is the damage? how does glass fly all the way to the very back of your car? how many months will I still be finding glass in my car?! is my bike okay? how did the deer really survive that? what if the deer had hit the windshield? what if that glass hadn't been safety glass? what if? what if? what if?
Those questions could go on endlessly. And somewhere in my subconscious, I think they are still being asked. But the tasks of the day - insurance, rental car, work, expressions of thanks, food (FYI - adrenalin makes you HUNGRY!), second workouts of the day, phone calls to mom and dad (because at age 36 I still felt the need to tell them about this) - had to be accomplished and there's actually some comfort in returning to the norm after something so out of the norm.
I was told this past weekend that I wasn't actually a very good Scorpio because I wasn't terribly dramatic (or a lot of other things!) and I don't want to negate that observation, so I won't become terribly dramatic about this whole incident. But there are a few big picture reflections I must make:
- when I think about how much worse it could have been, I get really scared...and feel very humbled and grateful
- although she'll never really let me place this title on her, Jess
was my guardian angel on the scene right when I needed her...I will never be able to appropriately thank her or repay her
- I'd rather get my early morning rush from swim practice than a run-in with a deer (all of you Lost Creek deer hear that?!)
- if the inventor of safety glass ever needed a blood donation, a monetary donation to some fund, or pretty much anything, I'd give it...willingly and gratefully
- life is precious and fragile and if you ever forget that, take yourself back to a moment when you thought "this might be the end" and you'll start to put things back in perspective
- surviving something like this relatively unscathed (well, surviving it at all) makes me think, "
Hmmm...guess I'm meant to be around a little while longer. Guess there is some purpose to my being here. Better be the best person, living the best life that I can be."
And on that note...I best get on to doing that.
P.S. Credit to Jim
Opre for the title of the blog!
And within a few hours of applauds and words of praise, the Class of 2010 was off.
Graduation is always a bittersweet day. So proud of what our students have accomplished but mostly of the young men and women whom they have become. It's lovely to have good grades, win lots of trophies, receive many honors, but the students of whom I am the most proud are the ones who have really grown into young adults over the course of their time at St. Andrew's. The ones who recognized that high school wasn't only for learning grammar and Physics and Spanish but also for learning about themselves, about others, and about the world around them.
