Rhonda is dead

 

RIP Rhonda

Shortly after I graduated high school, a classmate I was acquaintances with got into a car accident. The version of the story I heard was that after the fender bender, she decided she was sore, but otherwise fine and went home. Then she died the next day from undiagnosed internal bleeding. It shook me because we were so young and at the peak of feeling invincible. It seemed like such a freak incident. But yesterday, as the firemen and EMTs were loading me into the back of an ambulance to be checked out, that story was the only thing I could think about. 

We had a very full Saturday. We went to look for peaches at the farmers market (not yet), shot some family pictures, and ended the evening celebrating Z's birthday with his cousins and grandparents. On our way home, I was driving and we were stopped at the front, at a red light not even a mile from where we started out. One minute, we were talking and suddenly, out of nowhere, it felt like there was an explosion. My ear was ringing, cinematic slow motion activated and we realized we had been rear ended. The passenger side airbags all deployed and the car was filled with the instant smell of burning metal. I told V we had to drive out of the intersection. We couldn't be those people who had a small fender bender and blocked traffic. As I tried to drive Rhonda to the side street, she gave a solid nope and stayed stalled in the intersection. V was comically (looking back, not at the time) trying to move the side airbag to look in the side mirror? Open the door? Like, seriously what was he doing? Head injuries are hilarious. 

It was clear this was not a small fender bender. I was furious.

Like a responsible parent, I heard my kids talking and instead of turning around to ask them if they were okay, I was out of the car marching back toward the car who hit us ready to exchange some very strongly worded conversation. The windows of the car were tinted and I could make out a woman who looked like she was looking around for something. Maybe her license or phone? I crossed my arms and waited for her to get out of the car. Her car was rocking slightly and I thought she was looking for a way to drive away from the scene. As I contemplated grabbing her door handle and opening the door, the most small town man you can imagine walked toward me. Sleeves cut off his t-shirt, wearing flip flops and smoking, he slowly approached me and stood next to me as I contemplated whether or not I was going to pull this woman out of her vehicle. He took a drag of his cigarette and said "Yeah, she's not conscious." He said it like he could have also said, "Looks like it's going to rain soon." I focused my attention back on the woman and saw she was indeed unconscious, swaying in half circles back and forth in her seatbelt.
"Shit!" I tried to call 911, but it was connected to my bluetooth in the van and I couldn't figure out why the call was clocking but I couldn't hear anything. (Head injuries...) I asked bystander if he could call 911 and he nodded sure and moseyed back to his car.
Turns out every person who saw the accident had all called 911 and emergency responders were there before the man even got back to his car. 

I headed back to the car to tell the responsible parent and actual doctor that the woman was unconscious and saw the boys crying in the backseat, the youngest saying "who is going to fix our car?" I snapped out of my rage and went into mom mode. We talked to police, were ushered off the road and told we needed to be checked out. The boys said they were okay, no pain anywhere and V felt fine minus an air bag burn on his arm and ringing in his right ear where the air bag had deployed. I felt okay except my right ear ringing and the back of my head hurting. I was thinking of my high school classmate and told the EMTs about it, and yes, cried a little. They suggested we go to the hospital to be checked out due to the length of the intrusion on the car...it measured and classified as a trauma protocol. 

I absolutely wanted to be checked out...I wanted a full body scan to make sure there was no bleeding anywhere, but I said "But, like, should we go in an ambulance?" The EMT asked what I meant. I tried to explain that I heard you should never take an ambulance ride if you could get there on your own, you know, because of the cost...
He reminded me (without an eye roll) that I could actually not get there on my own since Rhonda was absolutely dead.

Valid.

In true our family style, if there's money to be spent on something we don't actually want to spend money on, we're going to do it up big. We took TWO ambulances to the hospital, Z and me in one and Alex and V in the other. It poured rain on our way and I wondered how I missed it even looking like rain 5 minutes before as I remember seeing the sunset light. What should have been a dream for Z, riding in an ambulance and getting some very concentrated one-on-one time with firemen and police, was shadowed, you know, by the car crash. 

I was the only one on a gurney since I was the only one who complained about head pain and freaked out about my possible bleeding brain. The seatbelts for the gurney were very straight jacketesque and they were talking and explaining everything to me like I was 4. Z held my hand and kissed it a few times. Who was parenting who in this scenario?

I imagine most people wheeled into a trauma center from an ambulance are not with it enough (or at all) to take in the scene. I became very embarrassed at the sight of the large crowd of doctors and nurses ready and waiting to save my life. I asked why there were so many people working on a Saturday night. V was glad he was not with me. I'm always embarrassing him in front of his friends...
I thanked everyone profusely for not making any grunting noises as they heaved me from the gurney to the hospital bed and explained I was feeling self-conscious about my Covid weight gain and confessed that I had consumed a cupcake pre-wreck. They asked if it was okay to get Z a cookie and let him hang out at the nurses station while he waited for V and Alex. 

When he was gone, I asked the nurse if the other woman was alive. Did she have a seizure? A stroke? I felt guilty that I was ready to cuss her out and possibly fight her. The nurse quickly told me I should not feel any guilt. V later told me that the smell of alcohol was overwhelming when they opened her door to get her out and I think they found bottles in her car. 

As I laid very still for the CT scan, I was counting all my blessings and begging the powers that be to not let this be the end. 

Everyone checked out clear and was discharged shortly before midnight. V's brother had driven up for support. Our dear friend left her house and came up to the hospital to drive us 30 minutes home in the torrential rain, doled out medicine for everyone and drove all the way back to her house well past midnight. 

I am so thankful that things turned out the way they did. Going back to get things from our car today at the disgusting, swampy impound lot, I saw how bad the damage really was. Things could have been much worse. 

After the longest 24 hours I can remember in a long time, I'll leave you with this:

Dearest Rhonda,

We hurt your feelings a lot in your time with us. We complained about our choice to drive a mini-van, called you a white whale, made fun of your big butt and acted embarrassed every time we had to find you in a parking lot.
We spoke of the dream cars we would one day get when the kids were older...while driving you! I drove you into gates and scraped your sides on the garage. I cursed you when your doors started sticking and not closing correctly, even though it was pretty much my fault. I most recently repeatedly asked what the hell your problem was when we couldn't figure out how to get your "check emissions" light to turn off. 

I'm sorry I called you the b-word...more than once. I'm sorry I let the kids wash you in the driveway instead of paying for the carwash. I'm sorry I never used the "professionally clean the seats" service I paid for when we bought you. We both lost on that one. I know you can't feel pain anymore, but I'm also sorry we had food in the trunk at the time of the wreck and it exploded all over the back, inviting racoons to feast on leftover Mexican food and cupcakes in your stinky, soggy, final parking spot.

The truth is, you were perfect for our long car trips and adventures, roomy for taking extra friends and family in one car, and never stranded us anywhere (though you tried that one time, politely, at a Target).

In the final act of your life, you performed every safety measure you had and kept us all safe in an impact that could have had serious repercussions. We were able to walk away from your wreckage because you did your job. You kept my children safe and I later witnessed Alex being the best big brother, offering comfort to his little brother. Z has cried several times that we need to find someone to fix you. He just can't believe that someone would wreck you. You and I both know, there's no coming back. 

Thank you for your service and bravery. Wishing you smooth drives on open roads in the sky.

Love, 

Me