Acciversary

One of the things I told myself in the days immediately following the accident was that in a year it would be just another one of those things in the past that we forget about unless we stumble across a reminder.  That thought was really comforting to me at the time, when I was having trouble processing the entire event.  Although I felt unable to form a reaction at the time -- was I angry? scared? upset? relieved it hadn't been worse? -- I felt immeasurably better knowing that at this point next year, the whole thing's effect on me would have passed.

It made me feel better at the time, but it wasn't true.  That accident still affects me a great deal.  Mostly it's my knee, which still hurts.  I think the surgery helped, but it's hard to tell.  Instead of feeling irritated all the time, my knee just turns bright red and runs its own personal fever at seemingly random times.  It's hard to sit through a movie if I can't put my leg up on the seat in front of me.  I have to ice it several times a day, both at work and at home.  It's not ruining my life, but it's enormously annoying and a huge source of frustration.

There are other things, too.  My driving has suffered.  I hate making lane changes on the highway, especially at night.  I cringe whenever I hear squealing tires.  I annoy Joel, who I still make do almost all of the driving even though my knee is capable of working the clutch now, by flinching when I think he's following too closely behind another car.  In short, I'm afraid.  I feel constantly on edge thinking that another crash could happen at any time. 

Maybe a dose of fear is healthy when we're talking about two-ton heaps of metal traveling at highway speeds, but I think that's more than counteracted by my loss in confidence.

It could have been worse.  I know that, and it's a consolation. 

At this moment last year, it hadn't happened.  I wish there was some way to reach back in time and not get in that car.  To choose a different night to go out, to pick a different theater.  To miss or make one light along the way.  To make some small change, any change that would put us somewhere other than in front of that kid's car.

I hope that at this point next year, it will be something I don't think about anymore.

Comments

[RA]

Wow, you have to ice your knee every day? That is significant. Is it safe to assume that physical therapy is out of the question? Otherwise, I assume everyone does it.

I think a good perspective on how cars can be dangerous is healthy and all, but it stinks not being at ease. Isn't there a middle ground between carelessness and paranoia?

[Nothing But Bonfires]

Oh man, I know how you feel. I mean, I SORT of know how you feel: I've basically stopped driving as a result of an accident I was in more than FOUR years ago. It was only a fender-bender but it sucked out my confidence completely. Of course, being in San Francisco doesn't help (driving here isn't exactly FUN; especially on a stick with all those hills) but I rarely, rarely drive anymore, just because I'm way too scared to. I guess...I sort of have no advice or anything, just wanted to offer some empathy. And I get the thing about trying to comfort yourself: after my accident, the only thing that made me feel better was making EVERYONE I ran into tell me about the accidents they'd been in. There's a tendency to feel so isolated in situations like this, and it helped to know that other people (basically everyone I talked to) had some sort of accident story to tell.

[Mrs. D]

I'm so sorry that the accident is still a major part of your life. Here's hoping that this year will bring a dulling of your pain, fear, and memory of the event.

[OM]

Yikes... I just read that for the first time. Well, who knows... Who knows how many accidents your fear has made you avoid, right? I do believe doing a few spins on a wet highway when I was a teenager has saved my life because I've been more afraid and careful since then.