Wednesday started as a good day but turned sour as the day went on. We had a little earthquake (5.0) after I did my post, and then I made my way to our old neighbourhood, since my hairdresser and aesthetician are still in the West-Island. My hairdresser was chattier than usual and was running late by thirty minutes or so. We were supposed to pick up some friends for a dinner out for 6pm. I was still on Ile Bizard at 5 pm, which wasn’t a good thing – traffic heading back to town is always bad at that time.
I was about to cross the bridge back onto the island on Montreal, was simply waiting in line, for the red light to turn green when I got rammed by a big white SUV. Hard. He was going at about 50km/hr and never hit the brakes. This is second times it happens to me: I’m waiting at a red light and my car is used as a stopper. It’s really not a pleasant experience. Actually it is quite infuriating; especially when the driver who just hit your car says things like: “I have many things on my mind, and wasn’t really paying attention”. Seriously? You’re driving a one-ton vehicle and can afford to have your attention other places than on the road? His truck only had a few scratches, my rear is really messed up, and my front bumper too cause I hit the pick up truck hitch who what in front of me at the red light.
Here's what the rear of my car looked like ...
Here's the front of my car, can you see the little square "inprint" from the hitch?
My husband always says: “watch out for the morons” when I leave the house. He is right, they are out there, in great numbers and I have a feeling he might be right about them being out to get us!
I don’t know if it’s the shock of the accident, or simply because I’m short fused, or in need of a vacation, but this whole experience is making me see them more… For example; after the accident I was taken, by ambulance, to the hospital because I had a sore neck and lower back (which I still have), strapped on a backboard with a neck brace the whole shebang. Given our current medical system’s situation, the process ran fairly well. I got hit at five, by six I was at the hospital and by eight I was going home.
I waited about ninety minutes before being seen by a real quack. He couldn’t decide if he was talking French or English (I have a French name, but spoke to him in English because it seemed easier, and that just confused him), then he asked weird questions like if I had been sick before… WTF? Hello, I’m here because I was in a car accident! I tell him that by lower back hurts and I really needed to pee. He undid the straps tying me to the board, told me to get up and go to the washroom, just like that. I could hardly move at first my back was so locked. I made my way, by myself, and came back. He was nowhere to be seen. He popped up a few minutes later, asked me to sit, touched my neck and my lower back and said he was sending me for tests.
They came and wheeled me to x-rays, where they only took films of my neck. I asked the technician (who was a friend I hadn’t seen in over five years) if they were also taking some of my back: nope, no films were ordered. I was sent back to the emergency and waited for the quack to come again. When he did, he simply said: “Nothing’s broken, you can go”. I was fuming (I admit it, I was rude at that point), here’s how it went down:
S: Why didn’t you order some films for my back?
Q: “You don’t need it”
S: But I’m in pain, I’ve told you that earlier, and said I had a slipped disk…
Q: “I checked you and you don’t need it”
S: You checked me?! When?
Q: “I did. When I asked you to sit and touched your neck and back”
S: Wow, you’re a real quack! You have x-rays fingers or something? You touched me as if you were choosing a fruit at the supermarket, give me a break!”
Q: “Why are you upset?”
S: Why? Because I said I had pain in my back and belly and you didn’t even ask for x-rays while I’m here…
Q: “Doctors are supposed to do what the patient want?”
S: No, doctors are supposed to listen to what the patient says and maybe go from there…
Meanwhile, an orderly who had helped me get off the board, quietly slipped away, and Hubby watched the scene. At that point I just wanted to get out of there, but the sides of my bed were up and I couldn’t go anywhere, and I needed to pee again.
The quack then asked, again, if I wanted something for the pain, to which I answered: “You’ve asked me that when you first saw me over one hour ago, I had said yes and haven’t got anything yet, so forget it, I’ll take some Advil when I get home!” I asked (or told, more likely) Hubby to help me lowered a side and I made my way to the bathroom.
During that time that darn quack wrote me a prescription for three different meds, one of which was a narcotic. Hubby reminded him I was allergic to morphine and that it should be in my file. The quack looked in my file, and sure enough it was there, so he said “oh” and scratched off that med.
...and I'm supposed to trust him with my life or at least my health? Yeah right!