The International Market has just collapsed, as have my hopes. I have the aptitude and personality for management…but the economy has tanked…and what corporate employee really wants to report to a twenty-year-old manager with no corporate experience?
After 2-1/2 years of fruitless job searches, I return to school. I’m taking leveling courses in preparation for the Master’s in Counseling I had investigated years earlier. Adaptive technology can now provide me with a means to read, record and share case notes.
I enroll in grad school an hour away and commute for a semester. Commuting works, but it’s stressful. I move just off of campus to lessen the stress. I’m enjoying my classes and feel more in control of my destiny. I have excellent orientation and cane skills, and walk practically everywhere. Life is good.
There is a major thoroughfare, with a big hill running through campus. I take this road daily, to and from class.
One windy afternoon, near the end of my degree program, I pause at a four-way-stop on my way home. I listen carefully. It’s clear, so I begin to cross.
Out of nowhere, tires screech loudly to my left. Before I can react, I feel the vehicle impact my body.
Oh crap! I’ve been hit!
Time slows waaay down, as I realize I’m riding this guy’s hood…for what seems like a couple minutes.
It’s truly amazing, what goes through your head at a time like this: “Wow, this is either a fairly late model car, he keeps it in the garage, or he has a great wax job.”
With a jolt, I fly from his hood as his brakes finally kick in.
I land on all fours. With onlookers asking if I’m okay and offering assistance, I climb to my feet. Sensing that all eyes are on me, I wish for invisibility. I feel the slight sting of road rash on my knees and the heels of my hands, my face starting to flush…and the stabbing pain of a seriously bruised ego.
Remember that rather robust swearing habit mentioned in an earlier post?…It kicks in about now.
“This is bull ___! Why the ___ were you going so ___ fast? Do you think you could’ve watched up ahead and maybe slowed down a little before you got there? Maybe next time, you’ll be a little more ___ careful!”
I must be in shock, because I don’t wait to file a police report or ask for the driver’s insurance information. As a non-driver, I’ve never contemplated being involved in a wreck as a pedestrian. I feel like a spectacle (exacerbated by my disability), and want to escape as quickly as possible.
Not trusting my own judgment, I ask my boyfriend to walk me to and from school for the next few days. When we pass the accident site, he says the guy must have been traveling at a pretty high rate of speed, because the skid marks go for a long way.
I’m a little apprehensive about crossing the street for a very, very long time.
Maybe a guide dog is a good idea…Even though I’d still be responsible to know when to cross, if it were windy, and hard to hear an approaching vehicle, the dog would see that it was unsafe, and simply refuse to cross.
To be continued.
Copyright (C) 2014 Donna Anderson. All rights reserved.
