"Once Upon A Mattress"

At least he didn't wake up dead!

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.....

Saturday was a dreary, gray day. Very un-Florida like, but we did get stuff done. And, in my usual enthusiasm for new beginnings, the New Year has me determined to get the house ship shape this year......There are those who would yawn, and wink knowingly at that. Yeah, yeah. Unbelievers all.

It was a dark and rainy night. Not good weather for our usual walk, so the OC let me off the hook and went alone to visit his father. About the time he should have been getting home, the phone rang. I'd been indulging in a mad moment or two, dancing around the newly spruced up living room to the strains of Chocolat. I picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"M! Come out to 19 as fast as you can! My car's on fire!"

"What?" My brain reeled. But the word "Fire" registered. He obviously wasn't in a mood to furnish details, so I yelled for the Bean, who was buried back in his room, fortunately home for the weekend. We hurried off in his car, neither of us knowing what we would find, knowing only that it was urgent.

As soon as we turned onto the main highway we saw the flashing lights ---red and blue and yellow, flashing, dazzling, hard to miss. The Bean kept his cool while I was losing mine. He made a u-turn and we pulled up on the same side of the highway as all the commotion. Aghast, we realized the vehicle in the ditch, with fire hoses trained on it, was the OC's Explorer. One of the firemen told us he was OK, that we'd find him in the fire rescue truck.

The fire rescue guy was filling out a form, getting details of what had happened from the OC, who was, to my practiced eye, as mad as a wet hen. He has a very low tolerance for foolishness, stupidity, carelessness, both from himself and others. But he was co-operating, answering all their questions, and, amazing as it seemed,
he appeared to be unhurt.

He had been driving along in the dark and the rain. Less than a mile from the turn to our house, he moved into the right lane to be ready to turn. And suddenly, at fifty five miles an hour, there was a rolled up mattress in the middle of the road. He tried to avoid it, but it was too late. He hit it and it sent the car spinning towards the median. He didn't want to risk crossing the median and colliding with southbound traffic, so he struggled to move to the right, but had no traction on the wet road as he careened onto the shoulder. The tires dug into the soft sand but the momentum had to go somewhere and he ended up rattling around as the vehicle rolled not once, but twice. Then the fire started under the hood; and people started yelling at him to get out; told him they had called 911. He waved them away [typical!]. That's when he called home. The people who'd tried to get him out backed away as the fire got bigger; the driver's side door was jammed; but, deciding that the better part of valor might, indeed, be to get the hell out, our hero got it open with a mighty kick.

We spent several hours out there in the rain and the dark. He couldn't leave the scene of the accident until the sheriff arrived and made his report, which, when he finally arrived, he did very slowly. The OC declined to have them take him to the emergency room, claiming that he was "fine." My plan was that we'd go home, shower, get some dry clothes and then go to the ER.

But. He wouldn't go. Stubborn. As. A. Mule. I told him if he woke up dead in the morning, he needn't come crying to me.

Yesterday he worked all day. Because if he took some time off to lick his wounds, the company might just grind to a halt. And we couldn't have that. No siree.
But today two friends of mine came by and gave him a tongue lashing. And his co-workers up north told him to get himself to a doctor, and a nurse friend yelled at him to go to the ER and tell them she said he needed a CAT scan. Just to make sure he doesn't wake up dead.

So now, he still wont go to the ER because he thinks the whole ER scene is a circus. But maybe, maybe he'll go to the doctor. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, he's reliving it over and over in his head. Trying to analyse what he could have done differently. And if he could find the person who carelessly allowed a mattress to fall out of the back of his pick-up, heads would roll!

He grazed his head, the same one that, not long ago, had to be stitched up after a tumble from his bicycle. He has several mysterious bruises. His back doesn't feel great, so he will be going to see his chiropractor. And the whole experience has not improved his disposition, which wasn't exactly sunny to start with.

But you really can't blame a guy for feeling like Superman when he can walk away from something that looks like this. [Pictures taken in the cold light of next morning.]

Ouch!



And Ouch!



And more ouch!