My brush with death

sad-man2

Near the end of summer 2014 I was hit by a van. I was cycling down a hill on a bright day and it turned and didn’t see me and hit me. It was ironic because it was a private ambulance turning into the  private hospital and I resent them for not just taking me in. This is how it has been explained to me because I don’t remember anything about being hit or the ambulance or getting to the hospital. I was knocked out for about 30 seconds, but my short term memory clearly wasn’t working the way it was supposed to because I asked if it was Wednesday over ten times a friend later told me.

The first thing I remember saying to my friend at the hospital: ‘Is it Wednesday today?’ To which he laughed mostly because it was funny but also because it was unnerving, seeing as when I was like this was only when I was incredibly drunk, not with pretty deep cuts weeping all over my face. But that time I was sure that I was right and I laughed and didn’t ask again. It’s very easy to be funny and laugh in the hospital when you’re the one in there because everyone’s super tense and you have the license to make light of it and it’s better to as well because other wise it’s boring. Also being able to laugh at yourself is useful.

So they went to the nearest hospital and asked for me and it turned out that they got there before the ambulance did, sleuths.

I’ve been in the hospital a couple of times for an arm I’ve broken twice so I wasn’t too worried about what happened and my parent and friends were there. Which was weird when I questioned it because how did they find out? A guy on a bus told a person who told my friends that they saw someone who at least looked a lot like me all bloody and shit. So they went to the nearest hospital and asked for me and it turned out that they got there before the ambulance did, sleuths. The first thing I saw when I came out of the blackout stage was one of them drinking milk from one of those single pint cartons that you get from the garage because he loves milk.

A friend was at his grandma’s house when he found out and she was convinced that I was dead and prayed for me which was surreal when I found out because it’s weird to think that someone actually thought I was dead.

Then they strapped my head into these foam bricks to immobilise my neck and give me an MRI to see if there was any damage, which there wasn’t so that was good. Then I was discharged from the emergency room and went to a different emergency room to get stiches, which took less time than you would think because I was still very covered in blood and everyone said that I should just go first.

My two biggest regrets apart from having the actual accident is that I didn’t get any gnarly pictures of me all bloodied up and I didn’t keep the tshirt I was wearing

My two biggest regrets apart from having the actual accident is that I didn’t get any gnarly pictures of me all bloodied up and I didn’t keep the tshirt I was wearing, which was a really nice thick cotton one which looked so punk rock because of the rips and blood stains.

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