Friday, May 9, 2008

Car accidents: Part II

I'm back to share my second car accident story. (Here is the first story.) This second accident took place in August of 2006.

I was eight months pregnant with Kaitlyn, and had just moved to having weekly appointments with my OB because we were nearing the end. Mike attended most of my OB appointments - we would drive separately so we could both go straight to work after the appointment.

On this particular August morning we started off, exited our neighborhood, drove past the park, and approached the hospital. My appointment wasn't at the hospital, but we live quite close to it and always drive past it when heading anywhere west of our house.

The part we have to drive around is weird. There is this strange, quasi-intersection, where traffic could come from three directions, but only two of the directions have a stop sign. There is also a lot of pedestrian traffic, and a parking garage entrance right when you come around the curve. Traffic consists mostly of people coming to the hospital or to the park, so it's not a busy intersection by any stretch of the imagination.

I was driving our Grand Am and Mike was behind me in our Nissan Sentra. (Thank you, Lord, for two cars with great gas mileage!!) I came around the curve by the hospital and had to stop short because a pedestrian was crossing the street. And I generally try to avoid hitting pedestrians. (Unlike other members of my family. I need to clarify some details on a particular instance that occurred and maybe get permission to post this story sometime.)

Mike, however, did not see that I had stopped. I don't blame him for this, because, as I mentioned above, this is such a strange intersection.

This is when Mike rear-ended me.

Yes, I was rear-ended by my own husband. Here is what went through my mind in the five seconds that followed:

Oh my word. Mike just ran into me!

Am I ok? I think I'm ok. I feel ok. No harm done.

Ok, so I need to pull over because there has been an accident.

Wait, the purpose of pulling over is to get the other person's insurance info. We have the same insurance info.

So... I guess I don't need to pull over.

During this thought process I had slowed down, stopped for a second, started to take off, slowed down again, and finally I just drove off.

In the meantime there were a lot of confused people standing around. Here is what they probably said:

Person #1: "Did you see that??"
Person #2: "Yeah, that was a hit-and-run!"
Person #1: "Wait, is it really a hit-and-run if the person who got hit is the one to run?"
Persons #1 and #2: "What the....?"

Mike and I immediately connected via cell phone (what did we ever do without cell phones?!) and I assured him that I was ok. We proceeded to the doctor's office where we assessed the damage and realized that, aside from a small dent in our seven-year-old Nissan, there really wasn't anything to worry about. We went inside the office and checked in.

The appointment was going normally - see the nurse, get weighed, pee in a cup, check the blood pressure.

Hmmm... The blood pressure was up. Well, Mike just rear-ended me, so that certainly could have caused an increase in blood pressure.

This is where we had to pause and tell the nurse our accident story, because she couldn't believe it. She, of course, laughed and said that yeah, that was probably the reason for the increased blood pressure.

Then the doctor came in, took a look at my chart, and furrowed his brow. (I wouldn't normally use a phrase like "furrowed his brow", but it fits so well here. I think I'll keep it.)

He said, "Hmmmm. I'm a little concerned about your weight."

I thought, "back off, buddy. I may have gained another pound but you must remember that I am eight. months. pregnant!"

Then he said, "I see you've gained seven pounds since your last appointment." It had been ONE week since my last appointment.

I said, "WHAT? SEVEN POUNDS? There is NO WAY I've gained seven pounds in a week!"

Then he looked at my blood pressure and expressed more concern. I explained the car accident, but it was too late. He already had it in his head that we might have a problem on our hands. He decided to check my swollen feet.

The problem with checking my swollen feet is that they had been swollen since Memorial Day. I had horrible, horrible, horrible sausage feet from Memorial Day until a week or so after Kaitlyn was born (which was the day before Labor Day). I wore the same, ugly, brown pair of sandals for the entire summer. Literally, every day I wore those things. (Not that I harbor any bitterness about this. Nope. No bitterness whatsoever.)

I don't know what the doctor hoped to accomplish by checking my feet. I don't know how he could gauge whether they were more or less swollen than the week before. It would be like looking at a beach and trying to determine if there was more or less sand than there was the week before.

I once again voiced that there was NO WAY I had gained so much weight. He decided that maybe the nurse should re-weigh me.

She did, and lo and behold I had not gained ANY weight. She just happened to have a lapse in brain activity when she wrote my weight down and for whatever reason had added SEVEN pounds. SEVEN!!

This explanation, and the explanation about the car accident, did not quell my doctor's fear of pre-eclampsia. His first impression of a huge weight gain and high blood pressure had already pushed him to be concerned about my condition, so he insisted that I go for additional testing.

Because when you're pregnant, what you really need are more doctor's appointments.

Thankfully, the test came back negative. (Or maybe I mean positive. They came back negative for signs of pre-eclampsia, which was a positive thing.)

And some day we can tell Kaitlyn the story of how Daddy rear-ended Mommy while she was still in Mommy's tummy.

Moral of the story: I'm really not sure what the moral of this story should be, but my last car accident story had a moral, so I feel like this one should also end with a moral. As much as I try to come up with one, it's just not coming to me, so I have to ask you to go forth and make up your own. And if you come up with a really good one, please let me know and I'll consider adding it.

2 comments:

Heather S. said...

You are an excellent story teller - I laughed out loud as I read your post.

Sara Luke said...

Does it make you wonder how many times before you were weighed and they got it wrong?