Friday Night Musings

It's a gorgeous Friday evening here in the Centennial State, and I'm staying in for the night because my body demands it. I keep discovering new bumps and bruises on my head and arms. Soreness continues to settle into my neck and shoulders. I have a headache that comes but mostly goes. I'm pretty sure I don't have a concussion, but I need to be careful regardless. Moral of the story is, I need rest...not that I really need an excuse to sit in the backyard and watch the sun set, knees hugged to my chest, cup of tea in hand, blankets at the ready to ward off the chill.

A few people have (jokingly) asked if my life flashed before my eyes yesterday. I wish. I wholeheartedly would have welcomed a slideshow of memories to distract me from the horror of being tossed around like a rag doll. I felt like I was locked inside a giant cage that someone had tossed off of a cliff, and I wanted desperately for the shaking to stop. Yet I was strangely calm during and after the accident. When the truck finally stopped rolling, my first thought was, "Well, I guess I'd better get this thing off the highway and onto the shoulder." Except that I couldn't because three out of four tires were shot to hell. My second thought? "Shit, I can't believe I just crashed my father-in-law's truck. I hope I didn't make his insurance premiums go through the roof."

When the Good Samaritan ran over from the gas station and asked if I was alright, I said somewhat matter-of-factly, "Yep, I'm fine." "Do you need to call someone? Do you have a phone?" he asked. "Oh, right," I answered. "I do have a phone. Somewhere." And when the medics came to check me out, I also told them I was fine. I felt fine, I thought I was fine, I even made a few sardonic jokes...but maybe I wasn't fine.

I think it a little strange that I don't cry or become upset when something traumatic happens to me--case in point, when I was robbed in Peru. I worry more about how my trauma affects others than how it impacts me--I hate to inconvenience people, for one thing. Maybe my calmness is also a subconscious defense mechanism. Or maybe it's ego, a need to be strong and not show weakness. Maybe it's all of the above. Whatever the reason, I need to make sure that I recognize when something is wrong and not be stoic about whatever ails me. Because that's a recipe for disaster, especially when it comes to one's physical health and well-being.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts on the matter, random or otherwise--a near death experience will shift your brain into high gear. But as much as the hamster would like to keep running on the wheel that turns in my mind, I should force myself to relax and get to bed at a decent hour. Who was it who said "I'll sleep when I'm dead"? I'd like to disagree with whoever it was, respectfully of course. I was very nearly dead and I'd prefer to sleep so as to live another day, a better day. Good night all, and have a pleasant tomorrow.