Recovery

 

 

I've spent the past week mostly sleeping as I set about the task of recovering for having been HIT BY A TRUCK.

I'm still kind of amazed at the whole thing. I keep looking for evidence that mitigates what happened, that I was slammed into by a big, red truck that was barreling toward me. But there is nothing. We recovered the bike and the steel frame is bent. As Lindsay points out, when I was hit, what was between that frame and the truck was MY LEG.

I remember the impact -- it was that BAM you see in movies -- Jackie Chan does it best. I thrown more than 10 feet, and I didn't break anything. I took the full impact on my hip and the entire area is sore: the muscles are torn, my right shoulder which was hit second is less sore, but it pretty achy. Moving is kind of hard and slow and driving really hurts my hip.

The road rash is healing quickly, but the aches and pains are just now emerging. My right knee feels as though I have ground glass in the joint, even when I'm sitting. I'm sure other problems will emerge. One thing about accident like this is the effects take a while to emerge.

I keep wondering if I'm supposed to be getting some kind of sign from the heavens or something, I mean it is nothing short of miraculous that I was spared broken bones, or even a good laceration. Rob chalks it up to me being one "tough bitch," which Dave concurs.

It doesn't FEEL all spiritual-awakening or anything. It feels like some dumbass hit me with his truck because he was driving like all of those assholes with oversized trucks do -- aggressively and stupidly. These guys never seem to think the rules apply to them and they are constantly causing accidents like this. Too bad I can't start an anti-asshole in a bigass truck who drives like shit campaign. At least rising gas prices are driving some of them off the road.

So I'm wondering if this Christmas instead of "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer," which is Dave's new favorite song because he's a funny guy that way, if they'll sing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Red Truck."

At least -- sniff, sniff -- Grandma will BE there this Christmas -- unless, of course, a blood clot from one of my bruises comes loose and ends up in my brain and I have a massive aneurysm and die.

On that note:

The food that's emerged from this whole ordeal is Toad in the Hole. Actually it's Toad in the Hole in V for Vendetta, a movie Rob and I consider to be highly under-rated BTW.

The real British Toad in the Hole is more sausage in a Yorkshire-type pudding, but this one just screams out comfort. I cut a hole in the bread with an inverted wine glass and fry the bread in butter. I crack the egg into the hole. Cook until starting to set and flip, cook some more and serve. This is a dish everyone makes and I can see why. There's something so comforting about the egg nestled in the bread hole; the whole thing browned in plenty of butter, which smells so good cooking. And the taste of bread, egg and butter is the right kind of bland but good for when you're feeling bad. It's kind of like a hug from mommy on a plate.