Consequences of the Crash

The theme is anger.

I was still at the hospital. It was 2:30 in the morning. I had not made it home from work. I had just finished the end of the ER visit. I am injured. I called the various taxi companies I found on my phone, with no answer. I called, gulp, my parents for a ride home. Given the fact that they are the ones that landed me in the ER in the first place, this was no small feat. I was seriously swallowing my pride to do so, humbling myself.

My dad says, “Call a cab.” Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that! Seriously?! They were going to leave me there!

I explained as nicely as I could that I had already tried that approach. Eventually, they did come and get me, with Dad behind the wheel, thank goodness. Dad was a professional trucker. He had a possible cracked rib and could not lie down anyhow. I do not know if they have seen a doctor since the crash.

I talked to my friend Sherri. I told her what happened. She has a son in his early thirties. I remember him being born in 1988 or 1989. She asked if my parents had stayed with me in the ER. No. She said that if it had been her son, she would have made certain he at least had a ride home. I think this might be how normal-ish families operate. Care. Concern. She also stated that I could have called her and she would have gotten me. My other friends said the same thing.

Part of me is just being petulant. At the ER, the doc asked me who my primary care doctor was. When I gave him the name, he was like, “He died a few months ago.” My doctor is dead. This day just keeps getting better and better. Honestly, this is what I get for last seeing a physician 5 years ago. The last time I went was because I thought I might be moving Barry and myself to West Virginia because WVU has a Huntington Disease Society of America accredited neurology department and I was less than impressed with MSU’s at that point. I figured I should at least get a check up before I leave Michigan. I feel like saying, “Look what you made me do. Now I have to go get and see a doctor!” I now have a new-patient appointment on the 25th at the same practice with someone else.

The bruising is almost gone, but I now have tissue ridges. I assume it is internal scarring. My abdominal fat is what stopped me from having a nicked bowel.

I don’t think my parents are deliberately evil or anything like that. It’s just all about them. That’s all. First, they could have killed me. Then, when I am still stranded at Sparrow Hospital and have yet to get home from work, they are ready to just leave me there. The difference between now and my childhood is that today I can speak up for myself. My parents see me as an almost ideal child because I did not complain much as a kid. I was angry alright, but I aimed my anger at myself, tearing off my fingernails and toenails. I hated myself. I am still dealing with these issues to this day.

Someday, they are going to be sick and in a nursing home or hospital. I’ll decide at that point whether or not it is convenient for me to visit them. This is not about revenge. This is about priorities. I don’t think I have ever been a top priority for them and it is hard for me to think of a reason they should be at the top of my list now. Honor goes both ways. I have never experienced it and am uninterested in learning about it now. I wash my hands of them. I so give up.

The “next” day, Wednesday, Chuck’s Garage called to say my vehicle was fixed. Once again, I called the cab companies and no one answered. The lack of response was due to the cab companies going belly-up rather than the fact that I had previously attempted to call at 2:30 a.m. Unwilling to call my parents and not knowing when or if the cab companies would get back with me, I walked all the way to pick up my car. Talking to my cat-owning friend later, she said she was actually on my end of town when I needed that particular ride. Once again, I missed my chance for normal human assistance. Asking for help is not second nature to me. It just does not occur to me. People marvel at how “independent” I am. As if I ever had a choice.

The next time I need anything, I will call on my friends. And I forgot about Uber completely and they are probably why there are no longer any taxis in Lansing.

It is a new world. It is as if everything has changed while, simultaneously, absolutely nothing has changed. Or ever will.

About cdhoagpurple

I live in Michigan. I was Greek Orthodox (and previously Protestant), but now am more Buddhist than anything. I am single now (through the till-death-do-you-part clause of the marriage contract). My husband Barry was a good man and celebrated 30 years in AA. I am overly educated, with an MBA. My life felt terminally in-limbo while caring for a sick husband, but I am free now. I see all things as being in transition. Impermanence is the ultimate fact of life. Nothing remains the same, good or bad.

One response to “Consequences of the Crash”

  1. Ninasusan says :

    I’m sorry your parents treat you the way they do!

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