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Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 25, 2005 || 11:11 am

Still battling the tractor.

No pain meds for a couple of days, woo! Kind of throbby today, but pretty unwilling to compromise. Besides, the vicodin sucks ass. It’s unpredictable; sometimes it makes me drowsy, sometimes it wires me up, sometimes from out of nowhere it makes me itch like the devil. Pardon my ignorance, but I kind of thought the whole major accident/injury thing merits ‘THE MAN’ allowing you to choose your own meds. I would have liked to pony up to the pharmaceutical bar and hollered, “MEPPERGAN, MY GOOD MAN, AND MAKE IT A DOUBLE! LET’S GET OUR SWERVE ON, AR-AR!”

Tractor Drivin’ Man called me at the end of last week. I picked up the phone, someone with a kind voice began to inquire as to my well-being, and after a couple of minutes I still wasn’t placing him, so I was like, “Wait, who is this?”

He told me his name and I began to cry, because even though I’d been told he was perfectly alright, I guess somewhere inside of me I was tenative and falling-apart emotional where he was concerned. We spoke for a long, long time, and several interesting things came from that conversation.

Come to find out, he was a foster kid, and he was adopted by his fosters at a very young age. So here I found myself on the phone with the guy whose tractor I’ve somehow demolished even though it was supposed to be bigger and more solid than my own chariot and he’s telling me how much he appreciates what it is I do. It was a powerful, powerful thing.

Also, he told me of how it was that he was not even thrown from that damn machine; the bigger tractor (read: more deadly to me and mine) that he’d really needed to use that day was being ‘looked at’ by his brother-in-law and was having some minor repair.

“Crazy thing,” he told me, “I’ve never had one lick of trouble out of that piece of machinery ’til that mornin’.”

So he got out the smaller tractor (which, in my mind’s eye, still looks pretty fucking big, if you ask me) and started to put it into service when he noticed a problem with the seat. He fiddled and futzed with the seat and gave it a quick fix, as he was already late starting his day. The manner in which he had to put it on caused it to squarely catch his pants to it, a fact he was unaware of until he was not thrown clear of the tractor when I hit it.

I’ll pause while you all say “Holy God, man!”

There were a lot of factors in this wreck that make it miraculous that I still sit here and no one else atall was harmed, but my leg and foot are intent on screaming now and that wears me out quickly.

I’ll close telling you that I experienced a setback in attitude, and also a tiny episode of screaming frustration, when the insurance man told Mazim yesterday that they may not cover what little (little, hell, five-kay is a LOT to us) medical that they would have otherwise. This ‘maybe wrench’ is thrown into the works because I happened to be in the course of a work-related activities while driving my vehicle. Fucking leechtastic asspuddles (but I will save the rant about working our asses off and STILL not being able to afford eight-hundred dollars a month for health insurance)!

But, I touch back on the facts from the paragraph before last and I remember to whack all that nonsense back into perspective. At a time when my ex has decided (you all haven’t heard this gory, sordid tale yet) that he will become a neglectful father, Maxim could be turning over custody of Sam and Scout to him while trying to find funds to have my remains torched. I still feel lucky and I still feel touched (even if it is in the head).

I’m a warrior, baby, and I remain in the fight. Smail some-a dat.

1 worked it out »

  1. Lisa 5.25.2005

    An amazing story. (Dave sent me, btw.) Best of luck to you while you heal and with your insurance stuff.

     

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