On Thursday I was talking to a fellow Mazda fan about their Mazda 3. Blah blah blah, I want to upgrade from our Mazda 2 one day to a Mazda 3, but not the current design because that’s fugly, I want the design from the same generation as our 2, blah blah blah. This fellow Mazda fan and I kept blabbering on about our love for Mazdas (except the design of the current generation) and I offered to, one day, buying her 3 off her. When you know someone looks after their car so well, you’d be crazy to not at least put that idea out there.
I went home quite chuffed with myself for thinking of such a brilliant idea.
On Friday afternoon, I was driving home after a frantic day in the office, singing along to Roxette’s best-of album and sucking up the sunshine-y air. I was looking forward to getting home, changing out of my work gear and going with Dan to a home-cooked meal at Jarod and Liz’s place.
And then this happened:
My second not-at-fault accident in five months. Only two blocks from where the last accident happened. Courtesy of a tosspot named Kelvin who drives a 2011 BMW on a company lease. I had right of way and he claims he didn’t see me. Which translates to didn’t-look-right-after-looking-left-when-about-to-turn-at-a-t-intersection.
The car spun about 90° from the impact and I was pretty shaken by it.
Not again! My poor car! What a farking moron driver! This is why I never trust BMW drivers! How long will it take to get fixed! NRMA better not screw this up like last time! How do I get to work from the new place? What the hell is my address? Why does my neck hurt? Kelvin better not be giving me a fake mobile phone number! My poor bloody car!
I may or may not have bawled like a 12yo missing out on tix to a Justin Beiber concert. I blame the shock of the accident and PMS.
BUT! Dinner was loverley and was a great antidote to get my mind off the bloody accident.
On Saturday, with a sore neck, I went to find a doctor to get checked out.
Protip: if you are in an accident [or injure yourself] while travelling to/from work, it’s covered under Worker’s Comp [well, it is in NSW at least; check your state to be sure]. So even if you’re a bit sore or whatever, but you know it’s nothing major, GET IT LOOKED AT ANYWAY. If anything crops up as a result of the incident later on, you’ll get all treatment covered through your work’s insurance.
Now, my love of my GP, Dr Joe is pretty well-known. I’ve been seeing him for about five years and has been my first regular GP since I was a kid. But Dr Joe is very popular and it was impossible to get in to see him on a Saturday. Instead, I popped along to a medical centre near Dr Joe’s practice, one that I’ve been to before for a tetanus shot.
I waited patiently, without an appointment, and after a measly half-hour wait (I’ve waited 2+ hours to see Dr Joe, even when I have an appointment), I met Dr Edward.
He quickly diganosed me with mild whiplash and processed all the Workcover paperwork. Then Dr Edward started randomly chatting with me about “female health” and was giving me different answers to questions I’ve asked Dr Joe over the last few years. Suggested tests, recommended vitamins, discussed theories, quoted research.
Move over Dr Joe, Dr Edward is my new favourite GP.
I haggled him for a list of practices he works in and he just happens to have a practice in the city – in the very same building where I had my first “proper” full-time job after finishing school.
That’s just weird/random/funny/serendipitous.
After finishing with Dr Edward, we popped over to the local discount chemist to save pennies on expensive prescriptions and grabbed a pastry from the bakery Dan and I used to go to every Saturday morning when we used to live nearby. We plonked ourselves down on a bench and scoffed our flakey goodies and washed them down with Coke Zero (me) and strawberry milk (Dan). I looked up and discovered we were sitting outside a Thai massage centre that I’ve been meaning to try out. We got a flyer in our letterbox last month (even though we live 3 suburbs away) and I put “go get a massage from this place” on my mental to-do list.
And there I was, sitting outside. When I could really do with a massage. Don’t worry, I didn’t actually get a massage, whiplash needs to heal naturally [how boring and painful].
I’m really sorry for the boring, long-winded, dear diary-style post, but I just found the chain of events to be really freaking weird. I didn’t have a sense of deja-vu, but something along those lines. Is there an equivalent phrase to describe a series of events that were seemingly meant to happen?
Since you’ve made it this far down the page, here’s a pic to make you smile: