So there I am, fresh from Joann Fabrics with a trunk full of goodies for C's Baptism this weekend, sitting at an intersection, passing Lil' Crunchies back to The Hungry Monster who suddenly replaced my Happy Child. That's when I hear it. The toe-curling screech of tires and the blood-curtling crack of metal-on-metal and breaking glass. I look up to see two SUV's entwined in what looks to be a kind of T-bone collision. SUV number one apparently tried to run a stale yellow light (read: already turned red) while SUV number two was actually mid-left-hand turn on a supposedly fresh green light. Regardless, there were two drivers and two deployed airbags just a few yards in front of me. Crushed taillights and scraps of plastic car parts littered the road.
Within seconds my light turns green and I proceed to pull into the development across the street. I throw on my hazards, roll down the windows for Carter, grab a pair of Nitrile gloves from my glovebox and rush over to the first banged up vehicle. In my previous life, these gloves were used for hanging chemo. Now? They typically sit dormant in my glove box. Until today, anyways.
After making sure that each of the drivers was conscious, I dial 911 and place the emergency call as I head back to my car and grab my First Aid Kit. My Little Sidekick is hanging out in the backseat chowing down on the pile of Crunchies I practically threw into his lap, all while my adrenaline is rushing and it feels kind of good to be "back in the saddle" as they say.
The first driver, a young-ish male, has a broken nose and seat belt burn across his chest. His shirtless chest. I mean, doesn't everyone drive shirtless these days? Idiot. The second driver, an older male, is a bit more shaken up and after whacking his head on the driver's side window, hard enough to crack it (the window AND his head), might I add, made out with a pretty decent forehead laceration that most definitely could use a few stitches.
I throw some gauze at the boy, telling him to keep pressure on his gushing nose. This is around the time when I notice that I must've gotten a little bit of his... umm... blood on my brand new JCrew T. Okay, so my adrenaline is still pumping, however that sudden realization does have me feeling a bit vommy.
I head back over to the second driver and make sure he's coherent, knows where he is, knows the president, etc. after whacking his head on the window. He's clearly with it enough to crack jokes and even refer to me as his "attractive accident angel." Okay, buddy. Let's not make this awkward. I hand him wad after wad of folded gauze and instruct him to keep it held tightly to the laceration on his head.
While all this is happening, another witness steps forward and states that she'll hang around for the police to arrive and offer her version of the accident up for the police report.
Fabulous. This basically means that my work here is done. I hear the police sirens rapidly approaching and take that as my cue to depart.
As much as I loved the opportunity to throw my Nurse Hat back on for a bit, I don't think it's something I'd like to get back to wearing anytime soon. Sorry, Husband. There's just too many parties to plan, beaches to sit on, blog posts to write and Baby C's to raise. And to think, I almost thought I wouldn't have any good ol' fodder for the blog for today's post.
Now, if you'll excuse me while I take off this here Nurse Hat, there's a trunk full of vases and table decor that needs to be unpacked. And a brand new JCrew T that needs a little soaking. Vom.
What a day. Never a dull moment around these parts, Loyals! Happy Tuesday!