Nichole's Accident
May. 26th, 2005 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaToday was a weird day.
I went to school, and Nichole wasn't there, and I didn't think anything of it, thinking she was late, which she often is.
Yet then I go into second hour, and Alex is going on about the car crash he saw outside his neighborhood. I'm not paying attention, as usual, until I go, "Wait-- what? Who is this?" and they're like, "Nichole; I think it was her car. It was the kind she drives. Do you know if she was in an accident?"
I was like, "NO!" because I had no idea. I asked Alex if he remembered if the bumper was tied on with rope and duct tape. He said he didn't remember. Mrs. Kasa then went down to find out what was going on, from the office, if they knew. She said Kristina would know. I was like, "Unless Kristina's psychic, she's not going to know, either."
That had to be about the scariest part of the entire day. We didn't know if it was Nichole or not, but I had a very deep suspicion it was, and, considering the epidemic of teenage car-accident deaths (the Ginthers and Felicia and John and Natalie . . . good God . . . I thought for sure she was gone to join them . . . ), I figured there was a very, very good chance she was dead.
She got hit by a fucking dump trunk. ON THE DRIVER'S SIDE.
. . . and her bumper stayed on. Go figure.
All at once I started wondering if she were actually dead, and what I would do, and how this reminded me SO MUCH of The Great Gatsby . . . she would be remember as the girl who died tragically in a car accident, and everyone would associate cars and her teenage-ness with her, and completely overlook the real theme in her life, the same way everyone thinks The Great Gatsby is all about "the American dream" and rich people and class issues (which, in case you haven't gathered, it is not . . . there is much more than that, honestly . . . ).
Luckily, life doesn't always work out the way it does in books. Normally, this can be a bad thing. Yet, today, it was good.
So Mrs. Kasa came back up and told us it was indeed Nichole, and she was alive, but she had four broken ribs and was in intensive care. She was conscious, because when they told her that she wouldn't be returning to school this year, she mentioned being worried about her Physics grade.
Apparently Mrs. Tramel called Mrs. Brenneman, though, and she was trying to call Kristina all morning. So Mrs. Kasa let Kristina stand out in the hall and talk on her cell phone during class when she had her, third hour, and, while receiving nasty reproaching looks from Mrs. Hook (lol . . . ), she found out that Nichole also had a collapsed lung. She told me this at lunch.
So I spent the entire day stressed out, just feeling useless and waiting until I could go to Nichole. I knew I wouldn't feel satisfied or secure or safe until I actually saw her-- which could make things better or worse.
So Kristina and I took off for Kristina's house right after school, and then followed Kristina's mom and grandmother to the hospital. I saw Tiffany's mom as I was going upstairs, and so I told her what had happened, and she told Tiffany, who called me all concernedly later.
We got her a pink elephant-- that was probably meant for newborn babies-- named Ermengarde Belladonna (Ermengarde because the trippy elephant in "Winnie the Pooh and The Blustery Day" reminds me of Ermengarde, and this elephant reminded me of the heffalumps in those movies, lol . . . and Belladonna, because Kristina suggested that she have a middle name, and a hickish one, named after medicine, like Morphine, and I said we should make it pretty, and so it was Belladonna . . . ), and an angel figurine holding a bowl of fish, for our fish girl ^_^
She looked all sick when we first came in, because the nurse was adjusting her. We had to wait outside for a while while she did that. She cheered up, though, according to her dad (who was there devotedly by her side), when we came in and talked to her. She looked exhausted and stuck, so attached to so many wires, with readings reading out on a computer screen up above the beside of her bed (and when we told her things which made her scared or nervous or excited, her breathing would pick up a lot and the numbers would turn red and the machine would start beeping, which really scared me, and made me wonder if the nurse would come back in and kick us out for distressing the patient). Though, for a hospitalized person, she looked pretty good: She wasn't all sunken and purple or anything, just very pale, with two concentrated flushes of red in her cheeks. She couldn't laugh (like me in my appendix surgery), and she couldn't move one hand, because it hurt so much, and, though Nichole loves morphine (hey, she gets ONE good thing out of it all . . . *grim laughter*), she couldn't have as much as would make her comfortable because it was dangerous for her lungs. Kristina felt ill being in the hospital, particularly when I asked Nichole about any surgeries she had coming up, and we had to get her an emergency drink of water and help her to sit down before she fainted.
Nichole's not going to be returning to school this year, unless maybe for a brief visit (if I were her, I would force her to, since I am so sentimental and all), but she can walk at Graduation. I was like, "If worse comes to worse, come in a wheelchair, and I'll push you across the stage. After all, I'm directly behind you in the alphabet, anyway. We'll get ours together. It must be destiny!"
Speaking of destiny, there has to be some reason she lived. The people who took her in the ambulance said she was very lucky to be alive; looking at the car, they said, they never would have guessed the victim was a survivor. Nichole said her last thought before she hit was "I dreamed about this . . . "
I'm so thankful she didn't die. I feel guilty, on one level, though, since I have my friend still here with me, when so many other kids didn't make it this year, and so many others are suffering because of it. Yet . . . there are reasons for everything. So all I can really do is be so, so, so happy that I still have Nikoli, and hope that whatever purpose she was allowed to live for will be fulfilled. I hope it's a good one.
I went to school, and Nichole wasn't there, and I didn't think anything of it, thinking she was late, which she often is.
Yet then I go into second hour, and Alex is going on about the car crash he saw outside his neighborhood. I'm not paying attention, as usual, until I go, "Wait-- what? Who is this?" and they're like, "Nichole; I think it was her car. It was the kind she drives. Do you know if she was in an accident?"
I was like, "NO!" because I had no idea. I asked Alex if he remembered if the bumper was tied on with rope and duct tape. He said he didn't remember. Mrs. Kasa then went down to find out what was going on, from the office, if they knew. She said Kristina would know. I was like, "Unless Kristina's psychic, she's not going to know, either."
That had to be about the scariest part of the entire day. We didn't know if it was Nichole or not, but I had a very deep suspicion it was, and, considering the epidemic of teenage car-accident deaths (the Ginthers and Felicia and John and Natalie . . . good God . . . I thought for sure she was gone to join them . . . ), I figured there was a very, very good chance she was dead.
She got hit by a fucking dump trunk. ON THE DRIVER'S SIDE.
. . . and her bumper stayed on. Go figure.
All at once I started wondering if she were actually dead, and what I would do, and how this reminded me SO MUCH of The Great Gatsby . . . she would be remember as the girl who died tragically in a car accident, and everyone would associate cars and her teenage-ness with her, and completely overlook the real theme in her life, the same way everyone thinks The Great Gatsby is all about "the American dream" and rich people and class issues (which, in case you haven't gathered, it is not . . . there is much more than that, honestly . . . ).
Luckily, life doesn't always work out the way it does in books. Normally, this can be a bad thing. Yet, today, it was good.
So Mrs. Kasa came back up and told us it was indeed Nichole, and she was alive, but she had four broken ribs and was in intensive care. She was conscious, because when they told her that she wouldn't be returning to school this year, she mentioned being worried about her Physics grade.
Apparently Mrs. Tramel called Mrs. Brenneman, though, and she was trying to call Kristina all morning. So Mrs. Kasa let Kristina stand out in the hall and talk on her cell phone during class when she had her, third hour, and, while receiving nasty reproaching looks from Mrs. Hook (lol . . . ), she found out that Nichole also had a collapsed lung. She told me this at lunch.
So I spent the entire day stressed out, just feeling useless and waiting until I could go to Nichole. I knew I wouldn't feel satisfied or secure or safe until I actually saw her-- which could make things better or worse.
So Kristina and I took off for Kristina's house right after school, and then followed Kristina's mom and grandmother to the hospital. I saw Tiffany's mom as I was going upstairs, and so I told her what had happened, and she told Tiffany, who called me all concernedly later.
We got her a pink elephant-- that was probably meant for newborn babies-- named Ermengarde Belladonna (Ermengarde because the trippy elephant in "Winnie the Pooh and The Blustery Day" reminds me of Ermengarde, and this elephant reminded me of the heffalumps in those movies, lol . . . and Belladonna, because Kristina suggested that she have a middle name, and a hickish one, named after medicine, like Morphine, and I said we should make it pretty, and so it was Belladonna . . . ), and an angel figurine holding a bowl of fish, for our fish girl ^_^
She looked all sick when we first came in, because the nurse was adjusting her. We had to wait outside for a while while she did that. She cheered up, though, according to her dad (who was there devotedly by her side), when we came in and talked to her. She looked exhausted and stuck, so attached to so many wires, with readings reading out on a computer screen up above the beside of her bed (and when we told her things which made her scared or nervous or excited, her breathing would pick up a lot and the numbers would turn red and the machine would start beeping, which really scared me, and made me wonder if the nurse would come back in and kick us out for distressing the patient). Though, for a hospitalized person, she looked pretty good: She wasn't all sunken and purple or anything, just very pale, with two concentrated flushes of red in her cheeks. She couldn't laugh (like me in my appendix surgery), and she couldn't move one hand, because it hurt so much, and, though Nichole loves morphine (hey, she gets ONE good thing out of it all . . . *grim laughter*), she couldn't have as much as would make her comfortable because it was dangerous for her lungs. Kristina felt ill being in the hospital, particularly when I asked Nichole about any surgeries she had coming up, and we had to get her an emergency drink of water and help her to sit down before she fainted.
Nichole's not going to be returning to school this year, unless maybe for a brief visit (if I were her, I would force her to, since I am so sentimental and all), but she can walk at Graduation. I was like, "If worse comes to worse, come in a wheelchair, and I'll push you across the stage. After all, I'm directly behind you in the alphabet, anyway. We'll get ours together. It must be destiny!"
Speaking of destiny, there has to be some reason she lived. The people who took her in the ambulance said she was very lucky to be alive; looking at the car, they said, they never would have guessed the victim was a survivor. Nichole said her last thought before she hit was "I dreamed about this . . . "
I'm so thankful she didn't die. I feel guilty, on one level, though, since I have my friend still here with me, when so many other kids didn't make it this year, and so many others are suffering because of it. Yet . . . there are reasons for everything. So all I can really do is be so, so, so happy that I still have Nikoli, and hope that whatever purpose she was allowed to live for will be fulfilled. I hope it's a good one.
