What is wrong with me?
First, let me tell you the story.
About 2 and a half years ago, Dan (my boyfriend at the time) and I went sledding. Well, in short, he has a small sled, while I have a larger one that you can steer. So, in the time that we were sledding, we finally went up to the ‘big hill’, and switched sleds.
I took his crappy disc (like the ones you buy from Wal-Mart) and went down the hill first. At first it was joyful, the below-freezing wind whipping my face like so many times before.
I was reaching top speed, but all of a sudden, I was looking up the snow-covered hill instead of down — my sled had spun me around! I turn my head to see if anything was behind me, and what’s there?
A tree.
I hit the tree with the total force going into my back, going at TOP speed, near the bottom of the hill. I had the breath knocked out of me. At first I was laying on my stomach in the snow, trying to suck in breath into my winded lungs. Luckily Dan came down and flipped me over onto my back, but did no more. I probably would have passed out from lack of oxygen if he didn’t because I seemed to lack the capabilities of flipping myself over after I hit that tree.
I had to ride in an ambulance to the hospital, use a walking stick, take MASSIVE pain-killers, etc.
Let’s just say that it was the worst (and most) pain I’ve ever been in — EVER.
So — today I was at work, and somehow Perry and I got on the topic of accidents and something that would be really painful to experience.
Perry, not knowing my story, immediately says, “Well, besides getting into a car wreck, I think that anything that happens in the snow would probably hurt.”
“Yeah…” I say thoughtfully, remembering.
“Have you ever gotten into an accident, Jillian?” Perry asks, eyeing the look on my face.
“What? Well, I don’t like telling people, really…” I say, avoiding his eyes. I try to switch topic, but Perry keeps on badgering me.
Finally, I tell him the whole thing. He wouldn’t let me off until he had all the details (Guys like that stuff, I don’t know why) like exactly how much pain I had been in and how I had to use a walking stick and how I couldn’t even walk down the hallway to my room without getting winded when I first returned home. Yeah.
“Why don’t you like to tell anyone?” Perry asks after I tell my story, looking both shocked at how much pain I must have been in and impressed that I made it out without breaking my back or something.
“I dunno’, I guess I don’t like to re-live that much pain, you know?” I say, trying to jump off topic.
But it was too late.
I don’t get it!!! I practically yell at myself, laying in bed sweating after waking up at 3:34AM.
I don’t know what it is, but it seems that anytime someone asks me to explain my little “Snow Accident” it is always that night (and, sometimes, the nights following) in which I have horrendous nightmares.
The thing is, I don’t even dream about the actual accident. I dream about my sledding accident being ten-times WORSE than it actually was. Even MORE pain, being on crutches, having to go into life-threatening surgery, etc, etc.
I know it sounds stupid, but if you woke up at 3:30AM sweating and breathing like a winded rhinoceros, you would think the same way.
But the thing is, it only happened once before, on the one-year anniversary of the accident (or around the date, I mean). I practically told the entire school (high school) about my accident the week afterwards, but why would it come back now? It’s almost been three years!
I don’t get it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I have another nightmare, tonight.
Sorry I’ve been sounding kind of cranky, lately — At least my brother is being nicer to me (he got yelled at by my mother yesterday).
It’s not the “wahhh my life sucks” type of entry. It’s the “Please make it stop, anyone” type of entry.
