A couple of months ago I took a CPR and emergency training course in order to clear my teaching credential. I learned a lot of great things in this class, including just how hard you have to pound on someone's chest in order to resuscitate them and just how silly it is to put butter on a burn. One of the last things the instructor said to us before the class was over was, 'If you're in an accident and someone is hurt, don't move them, whatever you do. Keep them still and call the paramedics.'
Check, I thought. Now let's just hope I never have to use any of this.
Fast forward to yesterday.
For the last few days L's Dad has been kind enough to let me use his car (his rental car at that) while I've been without my own wheels. Yesterday afternoon, while I was sitting at a stoplight singing along to Britney Spears (don't judge me), I felt that oh-so-familiar slam from behind that a woman in her thirties has probably felt before while minding her own business on the road. I was rear-ended.
Murphy, of Murphy's Law, must have gotten a great laugh at my expense. I can just picture him saying, 'You know what would be awesome? See that woman in her thirties who just moved to a new state, is up to her eyeballs in prep work for the new school year, and driving her father-in-law's rental car while his is in the shop? Yeah, watch this.' I hope you liked it, Murphy. P.S. I hate you.
After the first five seconds of thinking to myself, 'Am I dreaming? Did that happen? Please tell me that didn't happen,' I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that the woman who'd hit me was hurt. I jumped out of the car and ran to her door, where the person who hit her was already standing with his head in his hands looking as though he had just totaled his parents' brand new Honda Civic. The woman was trying to move, but couldn't.
'Are you hurt?' I asked her. She said yes, her neck was hurting. And her knee, which had just been replaced a few months ago, had hit the undercolumn of the steering wheel when she had been hit from behind, causing her to hit me.
'Don't move,' I said in my most assertive Dr. McDreamy voice. 'I'm calling the paramedics. Stay as still as you can until they arrive, okay?' She did.
And that, my friends, is how a woman in her thirties handles an emergency situation.
The good news is that I'm fine. The better news is that neither L's Dad nor I are responsible for the damages to the car. The best news is that it takes a lot more than Murphy's Law to get a woman in her thirties down. In fact, Murphy tends to set me up with some pretty great stories. Until next time, I'll be keeping a safe distance.