Last Thursday started out as a good night. My husband, a coworker, a friend and I went to see the
Body Worlds exhibition at the Manchester Museum of Science and Industry. It was fantastic seeing the bodies, though we giggled at the reproductive organs and marvelled at the size of the obese. We were surprised at how little lung damage there was on a smoker without cancer and the room of fetuses made me a little melancholy and introspective.
We ventured off to the
Retro Bar to do some liver damage and decided to go at a respectable time. 10:16pm, to be exact. I remembered thinking it would give us enough time to drop our friend off, swing back and drop off the coworker and get home at a reasonable hour.
We must have hit the border between Manchester and the Curry Mile between 10:20-10:30. We were talking about something, I was twisted around and looking in the back seat. Then, suddenly, BANG out of nowhere. We'd been hit.
It took me a minute to realize what was happening. I remembered shouting 'what the fuck was that?!' I had a lit cigarette in my hand and Philip shouted at me to stub it out. Ben shouted to get out of the car. I circled the front and looked at the right wheel, it was bent almost sideways. I started to cry.
My head swam with shock until I saw my coworker bleeding. I shouted obscenities at no one in particular and went to call an ambulance. The dispatcher barely listened to me. The entire call took 4 minutes, with her not understanding we were in the
middle of the road. A female police officer that saw the whole thing helped me give her directions. Though we were around the corner from MRI, I didn't want my coworker to have to walk.
The ambulance didn't take long, they must have been informed of the accident. Stretching back into the distance into Manchester was a queue of 11 buses. The others must have got the notice. The camera phones came out, the police took statements, other witnesses came forward and were angry for us. That made me feel better. I didn't want to leave Philip, but my coworker was hurt. We decided to go to the Manchester Royal Infirmary after everything was taken care of.
The police were bemused, annoyed. They weren't particularly friendly, but were very efficient. And we had to figure out what was going to happen to our little car. The only thing I could think about was how I was getting to work in the morning. Things wrapped up, statements were taken and information exchanged. The kid that did it was borrowing his friend's rather nice black BMW, but was blessedly insured on something else. He actually apologized. I was stunned by what I interpreted as nerve. I wished him a sarcastic good luck and told him I was off to A&E to see my coworker. The one he'd sent there.
We spent 4 hours in MRI waiting for my coworker and Philip to get seen and made a trip to a pizza place next to Big Hands. My friend told me that he thought life was what you made of it, was what you expected. And I know how it sounds, but I told him it's easy to think that when you're young. But after a while you realize life just sucks and you have to make the good things happen. When we went back a mother, waiting with her sons, asked us where it came from. We gave her directions. We listened to a hysterical homeless woman describe an assault and being kicked out of her home. Then was told to shut up by someone else, ruining our entertainment. I fell asleep on my bag which was full of tapes taken from the glove compartment.
Eventually the coworker ended up with a leaflet explaining what a Minor Head Injury was, complete with contact information for some NHS sponsored ambulance chasers on the back. Classy. Philip just had some muscle strain. I crashed badly and kept wondering why this had happened to us, now. Our time here is so short and our luck is so poor. Why had this happened now?
I rang my manager and told him what had happened. I was sore and tired and only wanted to sleep. We stayed at our friend's in Rusholme, surprised at how close it was to everything. I received a text message from our receptionist asking when I'd be in so I could fix a projector. I had already told her about the accident. I almost hit delete but instead told her I'd be in for an hour, but he'd have to work it out.
I did a few things at work. Still shellshocked and sore. We went home and Philip started with the insurance companies while I slept. It cost us 220 pounds to get the car from impound. It's sitting in front of our flat now.
This was a week ago. No one has yet to come see our car. No courtesy car is forthcoming. On Tuesday when the trains went haywire, I had no one to call to come get me. Since Monday my back's been spasming. I thought I could cope but it's been 4 days. I'm relying on my Father in Law to take me to and from the train station so I can get to work. It's like I'm 16 again and calling Mom from the Minter Bridge and TV Highway bus stop.
All of this because some stupid kid borrowed his friend's car and couldn't wait to get around a taxi. I don't want to hate him but I do. Our lives are all kinds of messed up now and the stress is really grinding me down. We have to spend time and money taking care of something due to someone else's recklessness. I'm angry, also because it wasn't even his car that was totalled. He still has his and given the way things are, he'll probably get off with a suspended sentence.
Our insurance company is useless. And right now I'm wondering what the point is of purchasing 3rd party insurance at all. All of our queries are met with a 'it's his fault, he has to accept liability.' And apparently them taking a week is absolutely no problem. I shouldn't be thinking about these things. A chapter of my life I've been trying to force closed for the last 2 years is almost done.
And I keep wanting to see the bright side. People keep saying 'at least no one was seriously hurt.' And sure, that's fantastic. I'm very happy Philip wasn't killed. But then the reality sets in and I just cry out of frustration and anger. And then I can't stop.
