She's fine, still runs fine, just a halfway demolished bumper. My head hurts, and that's all.
I was stopped at the light for like 15 seconds before the girl smashed into me. I didn't even see her in my rear-view mirror when I stopped.
Sometimes I feel like the world is pooping on me.
It was my mom's birthday today, so I went straight from getting rear-ended to my grandparents' house. I called ahead to tell my folks about the accident so I wouldn't have to tell my grandparents too. My grandpa always asks about my car, and I told him tonight as always that it's running fine.
Our family's dog is sick with spinal stenosis, the same back problem my dad had surgery for a little while ago. She was on pain meds until today, and now she's back to lying around looking miserable.
I sat alone in the living room for a while reading O Magazine (Oprah materializes when I need her). When my brother got there, he sat down next to me, threw his arm around me, and told me he was sorry about my car. Then he told me how he doesn't care when people get sick but that seeing our dog in pain makes him feel awful.
Yeah, he knows about my vulvodynia. Theoretically. I told him about it in an e-mail a little while ago but never heard back.
It's hard for me to get mad at my brother. He has a gentle, loving heart, and he's a year and a half younger than I am which means I'm his protector. But I want so badly to be mad at him, to really fiercely be insulted by his oversight.
At dinner I showed my mom the raw cashew pudding I made, and she dug her cake fork into it to take a bite. She does this often, sticking her gluteny utensils into my food and thinking nothing of it. I told her yet again not to do that, ever. She started to say to my dad "be sure you don't breathe on---" and I told her again, with the impatience that comes after getting rear-ended and then having a gluteny fork stuck in your food, that I get serious pain if I eat gluten. She said she just forgets sometimes.
We talked about health care and I mentioned my $400 q-tip test at the vulvodynia specialist. My dad said "but that includes labs," and I told him that it didn't, that it was just a q-tip. He looked surprised even though I've talked about it ten times before.
I sobbed all the way home in my crunched-up little car. I shut off my phones and laid in my bed feeling alone. Then I got my brain together and called the insurance company with a barely there voice.
I can't help feeling so god-awful alone when the three most important people in my life don't seem to remember what I'm going through every day. When it's safe for me to write this here because none of them reads my blog.
I just want to run away for a while and go where no one knows me and where I know no one. Then maybe it won't be so hard not to have anyone to rely on.