Almost road kill.... I got hit by a car tonight. There's no real damage done, but of course there is a story. And here it is.→[More:]

I'd had to work over an hour late, and was walking home from the subway station. It was about 6:15, and not quite dark. I was just across the street from my house, and seeing a car heading west on the street that crosses mine, also began heading westward across my street.

But then the car that would have passed me harmlessly stopped, and another car headed eastbound the cross street turned north onto my street, and hit me. There was a kaleidoscopic stream of impressions of the car, lights, houses, and pavement, and I heard myself screaming with as much detachment as though it had been someone else — though I knew it was me, I wasn't conscious of doing the screaming. My only coherent thought was, "So this is how I meet my death."

It felt like I flew through the air, but I think I merely fell over, and even managed to brace myself so I didn't hit my head. Over the next few moments I gathered that I didn't seem to be seriously hurt, so I got up and staggered over to the driver's side of the car in a rage. He meanwhile had rolled down his window and was saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! All you alright? I'm sorry!", but I screamed "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"

Then, mindful of all the times I'd been outraged by some account of a hit and run and sworn that I'd never let a driver get away with that even if it meant I gasped out the license plate number with my dying breath to the ambulance attendants enroute to the hospital, I staggered back to the front of the car, whipped out a pen and the little memo notebook I always carry in my bag, and jotted down the license plate serial number — though guiltily aware of the fact that I was holding up traffic meanwhile and despite the fact that the driver was assuring me he just wanted to pull over.

Then I walked back over to the sidewalk on the side of the street opposite to my house. I felt okay at first. I took down the driver's name and number. The driver apologized again and again, and explained he was looking at that other car and not at where he was driving. He asked me was I hurt, did I need an ambulance. I said I didn't seem to be hurt, just bruised. Someone, possibly the owner of the little convenience store there, set out a milk crate for me to sit on. I sat on it.

And then I think I had a mild episode of shock, because I seemed to get increasingly worse. In a few minutes I was unable to get up and walk across the street to my house as I wanted very much to do. I began to feel nauseous. My head spun more and more. I could barely see. And then I was unable to sit up anymore, so I lay face down on the cold wet pavement. The driver kept urging me to get up, asking if I wanted water, asking me if he could help me across the street, asking if I wanted an ambulance. I kept saying, "Just give me a minute." A woman repeatedly asked me for my name, asked me if I was okay. I wished they would stop talking to me as it took so much effort for me to answer and I just wanted to rest.

The driver finally just called 911. But I started to recover, and in a few minutes I was able to stand up and remain standing, feeling quite normal.

The emergency crews came. A firetruck was first on the scene. Three firefighters approached me and asked me what happened. I said, lightly and matter-of-factly, "I got hit by a car." They blinked, and the one fireman said, "Not too many people can say that with a smile."

The ambulance was next on the scene. A paramedic approached me and introduced himself as Matt. He asked me to come sit in the ambulance for a minute. I did, and he took my pulse and blood pressure, and said they were fine. We agreed I did not need to be taken to the hospital, and I was asked to sign a disclaimer saying I had decided not to be taken to the hospital and the risks of not doing so had been explained to me. Matt handed me the little laptop this disclaimer was on so that I could read it, and I read it back to him, slipping in little fictional additions such as, "I agree not to blame Matt if I drop dead in half an hour's time" and "Matt did such a great job he deserves a 300% raise," which Matt seemed to find very entertaining and even a worthy addition to the form. Then I signed the thing on a Etch-a-Sketch type screen, comenting that I had to resist the urge to draw little hearts and flowers after my signature.

The police had arrived meanwhile, and one cop got into the ambulance and took my statement. Which was, "I was crossing the street and got hit by a car." She got the giggles and assured me it was the shortest statement she'd ever taken.

She said that the driver wouldn't be charged unless they could prove he'd not stopped at the stop sign, which she didn't think they could do. I said I thought he shouldn't be charged, and that the city should put in stop lights at that corner, which is quite busy.

And that was pretty much it. Once I clambered out of the ambulance, the driver again approached me and apologized and I told him not to worry, no harm done, it was just an accident.

I ate supper, cuddled and petted Trilby, who despite being outraged by the lateness of his supper was as game for hugs and petting as he always is, and hunted out another clean jacket (the one I was wearing got very dirty when I was lying facedown on the pavement) so I could walk to the library to return some DVDs.

I'm going to have some bad bruising and stiffness on my left hip and thigh and some mild bruising in a few other places, I have a scrape on one knee, and the pair of stockings I was wearing got a tear in that knee and are garbage. But that's nothing compared to how bad it could have been. My main feeling is one of relief that my family did not have another death to deal with, after my brother's death last November. And that I really must get my will written. This was a resolution made after Charlie's death, as he had no will and his affairs are in a mess. I was working on it just today and consulting with a lawyer at work, but I still don't have anything ready that would be considered a legal will.