It was an incredibly surreal moment - one of those instances where time slooooows down, and you have a running narrative that goes a little like this:
"Wait - I told him to stop, why is this...WTF?! HOLYSHIT!OMGSTOPSTOPSTOPFUUUUUCKOWOWOWOWOW!!!HOLYSHITI'MGETTINGRUNOVERBYAFUCKINGTIREBYAFUCKINGCAR!!!FUCK! This is really heavy. Wow - time has slowed down. This is a weird moment where I'm watching my own hand get run over by a tire. By a fucking tire! Weird. This is taking forever to roll over my hand. Don't pull - you definitely won't win. FINALLY!!"
Yeah. So, I stumble across the street to my friend (thankfully NOT getting hit by a car in my dazed condition), and said, "Holy shit - I just got run over by the taxi." The next thing I know I'm sitting on her couch with my hand wrapped in an ice pack and a frozen veggie burger.
The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I somehow managed to call my sister who lives in South Korea. (I kind of love that my instinct is to call her for help - the person absolutely furthest away, but she is always there for me and helps me through any situation, no matter how trivial or dire. :) She told me to call the police, which I did. Granted, someone could've told me to jump out a window at that point and I probably would've done it. The police and ambulance arrived, the lady paramedics were super nice and sympathetic, and once we determined my hand wasn't broken (at least not visibly), they didn't make me get in the ambulance. The police officers took down the accident report and left.
This whole week has been spent laying around my apartment, alone, in utter pain, not sleeping, and making endless phone calls - to the police, the cab company, lawyers, and everything associated with trying to get some recompense for the whole affair. Not fun, but hopefully worthwhile.
I was super excited to go to work on Thursday. But by 2 1/2hrs of typing, responding to emails, and entering data, I could feel the strain. Only 5 1/2hrs left!