My experience.part 5

V. The first day of college

I will never forget my first day of college. It was a bright, saturated August day in Alabama. My first class of the day was chemistry. I remember sitting in the lecture hall, hearing my professor discuss her surprisingly generous cell phone policy, and thinking just how much more freedom I would have in college, away from the tightly regulated atmosphere of my high school. The realization made me apprehensive, because in the absence of externally-dictated constraints, I composed my own regulative canon. I decided to forego eating that day until I had gotten through my next two classes, to minimize the anxiety caused by the loose structured college setting. I made it through philosophy, and then calculus, with the aid of six diet drinks that deceptively filled my empty stomach.

By the time I had gotten out of calculus, it was about 1:30 PM and I was dangerously weak. I decided, however, to push myself one step further and stop on the way home to get school supplies. I made it in out of Wal-Mart rather proudly, having passed the self-imposed tests of the day with flying colors. Yet as I approached the left turn at the four-way intersection that I had to make on every return home, I began to grow anxious, as I always did. Driving had always been one of my major anxieties, and I found this particular turn quite harrowing. I did not like yielding, because I was not that good at gauging speed and distance of approaching vehicles and was always more inclined towards cautiously waiting. Yet, I was often jarred into turning prematurely due to the aggressively impatient honking of cars behind me. Made anxious by impatient drivers and somewhat blinded by the intense sunlight of that afternoon, I pulled far out into the intersection, thinking that the truck I saw coming in the right lane with his blinker on was turning. Too far out to go back, I saw too late that the driver of the truck had changed his mind and was coming straight towards me. I accelerated into the turn, sure that I would still make it before the truck. It was then a speeding car in the left oncoming lane that I had not seen struck me at 70 mph on the passenger’s side.

When the car struck me, I had been listening to classical music on the radio. At that almost indescribable point of impact, I thought that the music sounded angelic. I did know at first whether I was dead or alive, but I will never forget what I thought at that uncertain moment. “I hope that I am dead,” I thought, wanting the pain of anorexia to end. But that fraction of a second was quickly replaced with reality. I found myself covered in a burning powder, shaking uncontrollably. A man came to my car door and told me to come out. “It’s okay,” he said, and he held me while I sobbed. “I’ve called the police.” I shook in his arms and slowly looked around. There was an unnatural green fluid oozing from my car down and down the road of the blocked intersection. I remember focusing on that green fluid, not sure what it was, but feeling that it was awfully surreal. Then I noticed just how much my face and arms were burning. I just held them up to the strange man and said in between sobs, “I’m bbburning!” I also noticed that my right hip was throbbing from a tremendous bruise caused by my seatbe;t buckle.

The firefighters got there first and told me I should not have gotten out of my car. I thought to myself, how on earth could I have stayed in there? They told the Good Samaritan man he could go, and I just said, “Thank you so much.” I really did not want to see him go, and I will forever be grateful to him for being there at the most horrifying moment of my life. One of the firefighters gave me his cell phone and told me to call my parents. I called my mother first, who was teaching at school, but her phone was turned off. I started to really panic because she was really the only one I wanted, but I called my father. He picked up and I did my best to get out the words that I had been in a wreck. He asked me if I was going to the hospital, and I asked one of the firemen. He said yes, and that an ambulance was on the way. My dad sad he would meet me there, and I hung up with my heart pounding through my chest. The haze of the surreal moment was replaced by a growing realization of what had happened. I realize now I never did look at my car, and when I later found out how much damage there was and close the impact had come to a lethal angle, I am glad that I didn’t.

Right before the ambulance arrived, the police told me that the woman who had struck me wanted to see me. I felt not an ounce of blame towards her, and I was passionately afraid that she might be hurt. When she came running towards me I was relieved to see she was fine, and we sobbed into each other’s arms. She just told me over and over, “I am so sorry; I am so sorry.” I told her, “It’s okay; I am the one who’s sorry” and I truly meant it. I harbored no resentment. Later I was told that I should not have said I was sorry, because that implicated me as the one at fault. I do not regret apologizing though, and I would do it again. The police then asked me a few questions about the wreck, but I honestly do not remember a word of what I told them.

I do not remember much about the ambulance ride except that I felt unfairly judged by one of the EMTs. She asked me to show her my driver’s license, which had been handed to me by the police, and said, “You’re awfully thin, aren’t you.” I felt further accused of being anorexic (the crime which I felt she judged as the cause of my wreck) and also commented on the prominent veins in my arms and wrists. I just told her it was because I worked out a lot, but truthfully they had been like that ever since I gotten so thin. I have never felt as alone as I did in that ambulance. I did not have my family with me, I did not know if I had been seriously injured, and I felt mistreated by the EMT. As much as I will forever thank that man who was there in the first moments of my wreck, I will never forgive that woman for treating me so indelicately.

Thanks to God, I had no injuries other than a deep bruise on my hip and some slight burns on my face and arms from the air bag deploying. In the days following the wreck, I was very sore and was told to stay off of my feet. Yet, even though I had come close to dying my greatest anxiety was not being able to complete my eating and exercise routine. If I had had my way, I would have been back to the gym the day after my wreck. I was used to living in pain, and I even found solace in it. Besides worrying about missing my first week of college, my sole concern was whether or not the lack of exercise was causing me to lose weight. It wasn’t until later that the full consequence of my wreck became apparent.