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This is totally off topic for me today.  However, it has brought up feelings that I’m all too familiar with.  Rage, sadness, and way too much empathy then is really good for me.  So, I’m writing about it.  This is another one of those “my therapist said blog about it so I’m blogging about it” posts.

I have a condition called Interstitial Cystitis which is currently in high flare.  Which means a weekly trip to my Urogynocologist.  Since the treatment I am undergoing is painful in and of itself, hubby has been driving me.

Last thursday, on our way to the doctor, traffic was being pushed into the left lane.  So, we got over and crawled our way to whatever was causing the holdup.  We reached the accident and what we saw was seriously disturbing.  A motorcycle (possibly a moped) had slid under the back of the car in front of it.  The rider was on the ground, under the car bleeding profusely from the head.  No helmet.  Gasoline poured from the bike’s gas tank.

I become immediately hyper agitated.  “Where is the damn ambulance????” I yelled at my husband, who of course had no control over it.  “It just happened, Les” he tried to rationalize with me.  “The hospital is a mile away!  That guy is bleeding out on the road!”  Now, I’m close to tears.  And my anxiety is skyrocketing.

We reached my doctor’s office, which is about 1/4 mile on the other side of the hospital and heard sirens.  Ambulance, police, fire.  I felt a little better.  At least someone was on their way to help.  But I knew that the image of the man bleeding all over the road was one that would stick with me.

When the nurse took my blood pressure, I warned her that it would be high, and I told her why.  And it was high.  Very high.  I promised a valium when I got home.

I did my best to relax through the treatment.  It’s never fun, it’s never painless, but high anxiety will make it that much worse.  Thankfully, it doesn’t last long and I was on my way.

Hubby and I jumped in the truck, and while I concentrated on not peeing my pants, he took us home.

As we reached the accident site, the first thing we noticed was the ridiculous number of police cars.  There must have been 10 of them.  Plus the firetruck.  Plus the ambulance.  Wait.  Why was the ambulance still here????  And then I heard my hubby.  “Oh no” and I looked closer.  Underneath the back bumper of the car, where the body had lain bleeding, not 45 minutes ago, was a tarp.

And I flipped out.

Crying, yelling about how if the ambulance had gotten here sooner the guy might have been ok.  “If only he’d been wearing a helmet!!” “Oh my God, how is that girl ever going to be able to drive that car again.  It’s obviously not her fault, but still…a guy died under her back bumper!”

Hubby tried to reason with me.  And then he just let me cry.

The next day, we read in the newspaper that the man had abruptly switched lanes (he was behind a semi) and didn’t realize that the right lane was stopped.  And that is how he ended up in a slide that ended under the car’s rear bumper.  And because he was not wearing a helmet, he died.

I’m not ok with this.  Every spring I read the facebook posts and billboard signs telling us car drivers to be aware of motorcycles.  And every year I agree, but think…shouldn’t they be looking out for us as well?

And now I know that the answer is that everyone needs to look after everyone.

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