... on 10/01/2009. And I totally forgot to tell yal! 8D Or that might have been when my parents put K-9 on the computer... anyhow, I figured I'd inform the, what, 5 people who read my journals? Maybe? That I was in a wreck. My sister took a left turn at a bad time, and I was T-boned at 30 mph. Fun stuff. I went unconscious until the ambulance arrived, where I was out-of-body while they pulled me out of the car (which was smashed up against me), put me in a neck brace and on the stretcher, and then into the ambulance. I'm not sure when I realized that the moaning and screaming I was finding annoying was mine, but I quieted when I was in the ambulance. I called the guy I loved, in case I died, and my sister and the lady who ran into us rode most of the way in silence. The paramedic kept trying to keep my conscious by asking questions, so I wouldn't slip into a coma. I just wanted to sleep. I think I may have blacked out occasionally. I just remember moaning a lot, maybe rambling in french. I don't remember how long the ride was, jostling around, but I was in hell when they rolled me out of the van. Pain. Everywhere. And then they had to put me on the CAT scan thing. I cried as it felt like they... I don't even know. It was a dull, fierce pain. It gave me a headache. I nearly blacked out a few times. Then they rolled me into the hospital room. Cut through my shirt. But I wouldn't let them cut through my bra (60 bucks!), so they had to roll me over to unhook it. Oooooooooooow. They wiped the glass off of me, got me in a gown and on a morphine drip, and let my family see me. I immediately told my sister not to blame herself for the crash. They eventually let me sleep, but I remember having a hard time doing so. The morphine had to do a lot of work before I did. I don't remember when, but at some point I was transferred to ECU. The doctor told my parents it was a miracle that I wasn't worse, or dead. My seat-belt saved my life. I have 4 broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and a lacerated liver. The liver would heal better on its own, so I just had to sit there for a long time, hyped up on morphine and a catheter up my urethra, since I couldn't more. It hurt to breathe. OVER the morphine. I read. Babbled in french. Had the dude I was secretly dating stay for a kiss. I don't remember a lot of the morphine time. I remember the doctor not allowing me to eat for a good while. And I wanted my damned Waffle House chicken biscuit! I eventually got it. And I got the catheter eventually taken out when I could used the bring-over-potty. It huuuuuurt. I hated it. I eventually got moved to my own room. I was in there for 4 days, total. Sent off with a sling, opiates, and an approval to return to school when I felt ready. I tried the next day - Monday - but I was just too exhausted. I stayed home for two weeks, healing. Someone had to carry my bags for at least a month after I returned. I had the sling on for I dunno how long. I couldn't write or draw for a while. I'm all healed up now, but if I draw a car crash, or get in the position they found me in, it'll trigger PTSD, and I have a panic attack. Fun stuff.