Lens, Brush, Quill

We finally got the Police report from the Snohomish County Sheriff’s Department , and more time has passed.

Camille is sick of hunting for a car, but is getting close to settling on a choice… I think.

I deliberately wrote everything as soon as possible, knowing that I might be wrong about some details, because it is a beautiful chance to run a science experiment. How many things that I thought or observed would turn out to be incorrect?

The only incorrect conclusion I made was that the windshield was starred by the air bag, not by Camille’s head.  It turns out the passenger side airbag is designed to deploy up into the windshield and the be directed toward the passenger.

It’s been a week already since the crash!

We still have no police report, but we are both continuing to mend. The muscle relaxants are helping Camille, and the Vicodin is helping me! 😉

My mind still goes back to that last full second before the crash, and as time passes, it grows less powerful and less distinct. I find it very very interesting how our bodies and minds adapt to trauma.

My dentist tells me that I need to wait about three weeks to see what my body will decide to do about my teeth, and to allow all the swelling and bruising to fade away. There are no obvious breaks, so it is likely that they will both heal normally. If so, they will both need to be crowned. For the time being, it feels intermittently as if someone is shoving an ice pick up through my teeth, into my face under my left eye.

Vicodin works well, but it makes me really, really sleepy. In a few more days, everything should be fine, and I expect Tylenol to be adequate, gradually tapering off to nothing.

I have the bruises in the weirdest places. The one under my toe showed up the day after the crash, and I cannot, by any stretch of imagination, figure out how it happened.

At least it does not hurt.

Camille’s left side still hurts quite a bit, as does my chest and thoracic spine. Both of us dread coughing, sneezing or laughing. We are, however getting better every day!

Thanks again to everyone, for all of your love and good wishes!

This is a longish post, so here is:

The Short Version

We are both doing much better. I still feel like an elephant stomped on my chest, and like I’ve been slammed in the face with a tree branch, but other than that, it’s all good. (“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?”) For the first day or so I had a lot of trouble retrieving memories of the previous two days. Every once in a while, the headache is still thermonuclear.

Camille is MUCH better. In fact, you’d have no idea anything happened at all. To my surprise, I discovered that her head broke the windshield, so now I can make jokes about her hard headedness. Obviously, I’ll be watching her cognitive functions very carefully.

Many, many things came together by simple blind luck and the repetition of good habits to allow us to walk away from that crash. And we are very, very grateful to be here and able to continue to enjoy the love and care from all of you.

Now, for the Longer Version:

Forensics and Mental Chronometry

I slept very late Sunday, and awoke at 11:30 to see Camille standing over me, akimbo and annoyed, “C’mon! It’s almost noon!” She wanted to go car shopping, so I dragged my groggy self through the shower and off we went… Fortunately I was able to get a couple of hour’s rest later in the day. Everything that requires use of my arms if tough to do – putting on a shirt, shampooing my hair… I did not know that my neck hurt so much until I put on another seat belt – in my vehicle – and the shoulder harness really hurt me. Jeez Louise…

OK, maybe I’m just whining now. But make no mistake, I am grateful to still be here.

Monday, Camille went to work like always, and she called the Sheriff for the accident report (available in a few days), and the Hospital for medical records release. Meanwhile, I went to retrieve all of our personals from the Camry, and was shocked to see the windshield starred on her side – I thought her head must have hit the windshield, and we did not notice in the dark and rain on Saturday night. This explains her complaint of a bad headache in the ER. We all figured (the doc, too) that it was a normal by product of a whiplash injury, but it turns out she has a solid reason for a headache. She says it is going away steadily, and that she was aware of the pain being in her forehead that night.

An aside – you never realize how much crap you have in your vehicle until you wreck it. Everything that was squirreled away, or fell between the seats, gets blasted out into the open. ESPECIALLY if you roll it! Then, everything is on the roof! Wotta mess!!!

While I was there, I saw the Jetta sitting nearby, and just before I left the impound area, the other driver (an 18 year old) showed up with his mom to clear out their car. Contrary to what I thought I heard while strapped to a back board in the aid car, he says he was driving, so I will be waiting to see the police accident report to figure out whether I misunderstood what was happening, or if there is some legerdemain going on. In either case, it is moot. Their insurance carrier has already conceded full liability.

Next, I went back to the crash site and took some measurements and photos. The pavement is only 20 feet wide, (one lane each way) with no shoulders, and ditches on both sides that are about 4 feet deep.

If there had been a shoulder, I could have dramatically lessened the impact with an evasion, but people in the NW don’t seem to mind primitive, poorly developed infrastructure. Many of the roads here are poorly lit, poorly labeled, and have no shoulders or guardrails.

Daytime image of 236th Avenue NE with crash photo superimposed.

In chatting with local residents, I was told that the State Patrol write 18 tickets per hour when they set up on this road, for speeding as much as 92 mph, and DUIs; that it now has an average traffic load of 300 vehicles per hour, and that litter and drunk driving collisions are rife – all of this as a result of opening the Angel of the Winds Casino down the street.

So it turns out this is a very unsafe road, and that the Casino has made people here pretty unhappy.  Upon that, insult to injury – the Governor granted a tax break, so all of the repairs and improvements that were made, and will continue to be made, are at taxpayer expense with no offset from the tribe.

236th Avenue NE is straight and relatively flat, with nothing impeding the view for at least a mile. Saturday night, it was dusk and raining lightly. I was driving a white car, and passed under two functioning street lamps as I approached the intersection. I saw a car waiting to turn (the turn signal was on), and I was approximately 54 feet away from the intersection when the other driver initiated the left turn into my lane. At 35 miles per hour, our velocity was 51.33 feet per second, and with a “choice” reaction time of about 390 milliseconds, we traveled about 20 feet while my visual cortex processed the images sweeping across my retinas. Headlights. Turning into my path. Not good.

Psychologists have named three basic kinds of reaction time experiments: simple reaction time, recognition reaction time, and choice reaction time experiments. Visual reactions are the slowest, Auditory are faster, and tactile are nearly instantaneous. I was presented with a visual “choice” problem that was “no-win” – almost a paradox, actually, as it had no obvious solution, nor would there have been a solution in memory, had there been time for me to search. I’ve never been faced with that particular Hobson’s choice before.

Interestingly, when we are presented with a problematic stimulus, we often freeze and waste long seconds searching the cerebral cortex for a memory of a similar situation on which to base a decision. That is why we freeze. We are searching in our memories for an answer. In my case, events unfolded too quickly for that luxury. (In post crash tests, my simple reaction time averaged 214.5 ms.)

The function of martial arts, military, and police training is to shunt that time wasting memory search by encoding responses to likely situations in the limbic system – “reptile brain.” I remember watching a NOVA program where bags were put over soldier’s heads in training exercises, and when the bag was abruptly removed, the soldier had to make an instantaneous friend or foe decision based on whatever was in front of him. Sometimes it was an attacker, sometimes a tourist. It is done over and over until the soldier has incredibly accurate and rapid responses that promote the likelihood of his survival in urban combat, while minimizing “collateral damage.”

Kinetic Energy

It seems to me that a head-on crash is actually the best way to wreck in a Camry. The air bags worked wonderfully, and I am guessing that I would not have any damage to my teeth if the crash had not involved two separate decelerations. The initial impact (almost perfectly head-on, as the other car’s license plate is imprinted in reverse next to our plate on the front bumper) probably dissipated 75% of the kinetic energy, and the rest was absorbed when we went into the ditch.

Out of curiosity, I did the math. At 35 mph, with a gross vehicle weight of 3,130 lbs, there was 128,873.40 foot pounds of energy available for mass destruction. About 48 tons of that went into plastic deformation of both vehicles and linear displacement of the other car (I was correct – it was pushed about 32 feet back and rotated 90 degrees counterclockwise), and approximately 16 tons of force went into the mud. I have no idea how much was dissipated through the brakes, because I have no recollection of how hard I pressed, or if I even pressed at all. Because the pavement was wet, there are no skid marks from either vehicle.

The air bags deployed on initial impact, and were already deflating when we experienced the second sudden deceleration as we went into the ditch. That is when I hit the steering wheel, and Camille’s head broke the windshield. It took me a while to puzzle out that we actually had two impacts – one with the other car, then another when the ditch absorbed our leftover velocity.

Our bodies went through two separate g-force moments, the first of approximately 7.7 g’s, mostly dissipated into the airbags, and the second of about 2.6 g’s. Humans have withstood more than 46 g’s.

Many, many things came together by simple blind luck to allow us to walk away from that crash. I cannot praise Toyota enough for designing a car that protected us when we needed it the most.

No much room in here anymore!

Thanks to all of you, from Camille and I, for your thoughts, prayers, positive energy, and kind words.

Every  day  is  a  gift…

Comments:

Serena: I cannot bear to think about how much differently this scenario could have played out. I am SO glad you and Camille are here, alive, and doing better.

P.S. I KNEW it! You really are a Math geek at heart! 😀

Auntie “M”:  Mike – I am so glad both of you are OK, headaches aside. I have a question – wasn’t anyone in the other car injured? You said an 18 year old guy came to get the car but you thought it was a 16 year old girl driving. Either way, how could they not be injured?????

Me:  I really don’t know about the other people…  We STILL have not received the police report, and the night it happened, I didn’t want to talk to them, because I could feel that I was simmering.  I was angry that some motard had nearly killed us both, and totally destroyed Camille’s car, and if the other driver had said just one stupid thing to me, I was likely to lose control and deck him/her.  So I stood aside and waited for the police to do their job.

Their passenger, a girl of 17 or so, had a bloody nose, and my guess is that she hit the backside of the front seat (she was probably sitting in the back.)  I saw their car at the impound yard, and their dashboard air bags were also deployed, so like us, the technology probably saved them from serious injury, too.

All I can say with certainty is that everyone was walking around under their own power right after the accident, and only the girl from the Jetta had anything obviously wrong (nose bleed).

Auntie “M”:  This is where we differ – I would have just gone over to their car and probably ended up in jail for foul language and whatever else I would do. I have absolutely NO patience with stupid drivers, especially kids. Ask Kenny how I talk about the “cowboys” on the road. When I let out one of my outbursts he just pretends we are on the way to Florida and says “Only 1300 miles to go.”   Hope the soreness is going away.

Me: LOL!  Well, I understand and agree…  it’s just that out here, I’d be in jail.  Don’t need that.  Plus, my temper is still pretty hot, even after all these years.  I really don’t want to kill anyone in a fit of rage, and I believe that is an actual possibility…

I’m feeling better, but Camille is having a crappy day – she’s had a kind of delayed reaction, and her left side is really hurting a lot today.

My dentist tells me we have to wait three weeks to see if my body heals the teeth or decides to kill them.  In any event, I need 2 new crowns up front.  In the meantime, it feels like someone is shoving a knife up into my sinuses.  I’m thankful for Vicodin!

Dave:  Glad to hear you both were able to walk away with minimal injuries.  Send Camille our best wishes too. These are a few pix of Jeanne’s three year old Camry after she was T-boned by a woman who ran a red light.  It occurred in late May last year.  She was fortunate to walk away as well, but for some reason the airbags never deployed.  She initially felt fine, but an MRI revealed two herniated discs in her neck for which she is still in physical therapy.  Again, just glad to hear you’re alright.  Life is fragile and one or both of you could have easily not walked away at all.

Peter:  Someone once told me,   “things…[like smashed-up cars]..are just things… and can be replaced”

But people are different.  So the fact that you guys are alright is the important part.

On our way to a banquet for Fire District 7, a sixteen year old girl decided to wait until I was less than 50 feet away and closing at 35 miles per hour to begin her left turn in front of me.

I was about to say, “You’ve GOT to be shitting me,” but the words never made it out.

I pulled toward the right to try to make it a glancing collision instead of a full head on [our car is damaged in the left front, her entire front end is demolished]. There was nothing to do – it was over with too quickly.

In any unexpected and rapidly unfolding event, it is amazing what you are aware of and are able to recall, compared to what you know must have gone on but you have no recollection of.

I remember a single, loud “whump” of the initial impact, and being aware of decelerating into the air bag – whereas I know there must have been a cacophony of skidding tires (the impact forced the other vehicle back along the road about 30 feet from the intersection), of breaking glass and crumpling metal, dislodged wheel covers rolling to a stop, the spray of shattered parts raining onto the pavement…

I heard none if that. Right after the single loud sound of impact, I heard nothing at all for what seemed like a full minute or more as my mind coldly raced between observations and questions:

Sitrep. Alive. Stunned. Listing severely to the right, are we still moving? The cabin is full of a horrible stench and thick dust, we’re in a ditch – we might fill with water, my mouth is full of shards of some sort, broken teeth? Why don’t I feel any pain?

I used the last air in my lungs to say aloud, “we need to get out of here – now,” and held my breath as I struggled to push the door uphill to get out. Although I struggled to recall, I could not remember the active ingredient in air bag propellant, and I did not want to sit there inhaling it.

Camille opened her door, which startled me.  Because I had thought about the possibility of filling with water, I had expected her to climb out my door. But she stepped out into a foot of muddy water, and I turned back to struggling with my own door.

In my head: Safe to exit? Could cars come alongside? No, don’t think so. Fuck it. Let them take the door.

Notice the air bags that protected my knees (!!!!).

Push, shove, struggle, freedom. Raindrops, cold air.

I got out, stood up, and turned back toward the door I just exited, leaned against the car and moaned in pain. My entire chest locked into a spasm, and I could not breathe. Voices behind me:

“Are you alright?”
“Are you alright?”
“Is everyone all right?”

When the spasms stopped, I began panting. Ah, yes. My old friend, adrenaline.

In my head the training kicked in: Call 911.

I turned to look for someone to give that order to and saw someone calling, overheard that it seemed to be a call to the Sheriff’s Deputy. “Are you calling for the Police?” I called out.

To my right, another voice, “I already did. They’re on their way.”

Funny thing that I automatically sought to delegate the phone call. In first aid training, I was drilled that the first thing you do is call for medical assistance. For every accident I have attended, I was busy conducting triage or giving first aid and directed someone else to make that call.  But in this scenario, I was the victim.

A passenger from the other vehicle said her nose was broken. Didn’t look that way to me, but what do I know? I was in shock. I am not trying to go all erudite, here, but I’ve read quite a bit about how the brain processes information, and whenever I get to be the lab rat, I am open-mouthed in astonishment at how poorly we (I, we, all humans) perform in crisis.

In my head: Get some photos before anyone moves anything.

Camille suddenly appeared at my left and was asking me to do something, and I said, “not right now. I need to make some pictures.” Strangely, she thanked me. I opened the back door, got my go-bag, pulled out a camera and began documenting the scene. Already, the road had a long line of cars in both directions, as both lanes were blocked by the VW Jetta. (It was only 5:30 PM.)

On the far right, Camille (in a burgundy coat) is retrieving her purse.

I tried to retrieve the car keys, and could not, because the car was still in gear. I struggled to put it into park, and my recollection is that I was unsuccessful.  (Four hours later, I found the keys in my coat pocket, so my recollection was completely wrong. I had actually succeeded in my mission – on autopilot.)

Our perceptions of time, spatial relationships (distance, proximity) and responsibility are completely distorted. It is the force of habits, burned into neural networks, that carry us through safely. I have no idea where Camille was for most of the next five minutes or so (maybe even longer – who knows?) while I studied the scene in a daze. It never occurred to me to check her condition. I think that the fact that she was wandering around and appeared to be OK was all the reassurance I needed. It is impossible to say. A passerby asked us if we wanted to wait in his vehicle (out of the rain). Trembling with nervous energy, I declined, but told her to go ahead. He stood outside with me, eyeing me with concern, while Camille sat with his family in a warm SUV, and I paced in circles intermittently.

My mind was spinning. It never occurred to me to get insurance information, which I would normally do reflexively. I was more impatient for the arrival of Police. I asked about the speed limit. “It’s 35 along here.” OK, I thought, I wasn’t speeding. Fact is, we were half an hour ahead of schedule, so I was very relaxed and driving a little below the speed limit.

The aid car arrived and got stuck in the maze of drivers who could not figure out that they needed to move aside to allow the big shiny trucks with sirens and flashing lights to get through.  Suddenly, a man in full fire gear appeared at my left, asking me if I hurt anywhere. I was beginning to seize up – my neck and lower back… my chest was aching, a thermonuclear headache. I figured I might have cracked a rib at the sternum. “I’m sure it’s nothing” I told him.

Next came the neck brace, the back board, and lying on the pavement without my jacket in rain at forty degrees Fahrenheit. It makes no sense at all to strap someone to a back board to immobilize them, and then leave them in a place where violent shivering aggravates the condition. Oh well. Fact is, the aid response was professional, courteous and as efficient as it could be, given that they did not know that there were 6 casualties.

A short ride to Cascade Valley Hospital, then 300 questions, poking, prodding, x-rays, and a benediction. Take these painkillers if you need them, then go forth and sin no more.

Camille was scanned for internal bleeding, because she had pain in her lower left abdomen. Nothing unusual. She got the same meds and benediction as me.

It took three hours until I realized which teeth were broken, four hours to realize I had Camille’s car keys and had not lost my notebook, and seven hours to discover a deep bruise in my groin.

I just can’t wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Comments:

Khog: Holy shit man.  Please keep us updated if you are able.  At this point, all i can say is ‘glad you’re alive’.  Fuckin A, that sucks!  How are you and Camille, what about the other car passengers?

Randy: OMG. Are you two ok?

Marlene:  Mike – I’m so glad you and Camille are OK. Don’t you just love young drivers?  I hit a snow bank of solid ice last week but only damaged a wheel. I can’t imagine anything like what you two experienced.

Me: They give a license to anyone that can fog a mirror.  Out here, they don’t even make you prove you are a legal resident.

Jonathan:  Michael, I’m very sorry to hear the news. Life is so tenuous. I’m glad to know that you and Camille are not seriously injured. Thank God for air bags. Jocelyn and I are thinking of you too today and hoping you have no lasting injuries. It will take time to get over the trauma. One day at a time. Love to you all, Jonathan

April:  Holy shit Michael. I’m glad you were able to write. Thank you for that.  Will be in touch soon.  All my love and hugs to you both.

Teri:  We are both so grateful you and Camille are alive!  What a horrendous thing to happen. Take very good care of yourselves and take no chances. If it hurts, don’t ignore it.  Our thoughts are with you.

Paul: WOW!!  Let me know if you need anything?  Not like I’d actually follow through, but just pretend I would 😀  Just Kidding, anything let me know.

David:  It sounds like you may or may not be injured badly? let me know if I can do something.

Paul:  …glad you are ok, was the other driver on the phone?  Glad to hear that you both are okay. I can’t imagine what that experience would be like. As usual, you found a way to pass it on.
Kipp: Glad to hear that you both are okay. I can’t imagine what that experience would be like. As usual, you found a way to pass it on. I am looking forward to you waxing poetically when you describe the experience of passing into the spiritual world. You will find some way to pull it off, I am sure of it.

Carisa:  Wow!  By the grace of god you both are alive and not paralyzed or anything. I am so sorry you had to go through that. Maybe there are hidden blessings, or maybe the accident kept you from some other fate. Anyway, everything happens for a reason I am told. I hope you both are recovering well. Best wishes.