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Drift back to the slope.
Long story cut to the end: my friend was out of the ER and home by 11:30. Back in time for curfew.
Long story with the beginning and middle: I'd met up with her and a few other people to see Ready or Not in Brooklyn, at the old movie house converted into a Nitehawk cinema chain. (I said I'd never seen a movie there, but I'd seen the painting.) Afterwards, her, me, and someone else went to get pastry nearby, and then walked a while through Prospect Park, where a skateboarder was going down a hill too fast to stop and my friend couldn't move quick enough to get out of the way. She rolled, he skidded, her glasses went flying and somehow didn't break, and I called her an ambulance. I rode with her in the back, me on a seat and her in the gurney, and she stayed in that gurney until they moved her onto a hospital bed.
In the ER, she got x-rays, painkillers, water, a tetanus shot, a plaster cast, and the information that it was a fracture, not a break, and that hopefully a plaster cast is all she'll need. A plaster cast, rest, and presumably PT afterwards. The third person with us left after a few hours because he had to get back to Long Island. I stayed, because God knows I wouldn't want to be in an ER by myself for longer than it'd take to use the bathroom, and I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be for someone in so much pain. So I stayed, giving clean jokes about penguins and bleak ones about bad timing of emails and generally doing my best to keep her company.
(The third person with us joked that because the skateboarder only suffered road rash and left under his own power, he got away "skate free.")
A friend of hers from her building came by later, and I sort of became a proximal friend to them as well, due to the extenuating circumstances. We talked food and old jobs, joked with the physicians, and did our best to make sure she wasn't ever left alone.
I stayed through the car ride to her building, during which I got a view of the moon through the sunroof, skittering in and out of sight through the trees, and a clear view of it all the way along the far side of Prospect Park. In her apartment, I met her dogs, and to everyone that says dogs respect boundaries: I have yet to meet such a dog.
It was late when I got back to Manhattan. I'd wanted pizza, but the pizza places were closed - that was how late it was. My Sunday was eaten, and my Monday's been catch-up, and I'd do it again without any regrets. Because there honestly wasn't anything better I had to do.
Long story with the beginning and middle: I'd met up with her and a few other people to see Ready or Not in Brooklyn, at the old movie house converted into a Nitehawk cinema chain. (I said I'd never seen a movie there, but I'd seen the painting.) Afterwards, her, me, and someone else went to get pastry nearby, and then walked a while through Prospect Park, where a skateboarder was going down a hill too fast to stop and my friend couldn't move quick enough to get out of the way. She rolled, he skidded, her glasses went flying and somehow didn't break, and I called her an ambulance. I rode with her in the back, me on a seat and her in the gurney, and she stayed in that gurney until they moved her onto a hospital bed.
In the ER, she got x-rays, painkillers, water, a tetanus shot, a plaster cast, and the information that it was a fracture, not a break, and that hopefully a plaster cast is all she'll need. A plaster cast, rest, and presumably PT afterwards. The third person with us left after a few hours because he had to get back to Long Island. I stayed, because God knows I wouldn't want to be in an ER by myself for longer than it'd take to use the bathroom, and I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be for someone in so much pain. So I stayed, giving clean jokes about penguins and bleak ones about bad timing of emails and generally doing my best to keep her company.
(The third person with us joked that because the skateboarder only suffered road rash and left under his own power, he got away "skate free.")
A friend of hers from her building came by later, and I sort of became a proximal friend to them as well, due to the extenuating circumstances. We talked food and old jobs, joked with the physicians, and did our best to make sure she wasn't ever left alone.
I stayed through the car ride to her building, during which I got a view of the moon through the sunroof, skittering in and out of sight through the trees, and a clear view of it all the way along the far side of Prospect Park. In her apartment, I met her dogs, and to everyone that says dogs respect boundaries: I have yet to meet such a dog.
It was late when I got back to Manhattan. I'd wanted pizza, but the pizza places were closed - that was how late it was. My Sunday was eaten, and my Monday's been catch-up, and I'd do it again without any regrets. Because there honestly wasn't anything better I had to do.
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