Post Traumatic Stress is a bitch. It destroys the comfortable reality you once enjoyed, leaving you cringing and gasping for breath, cowering wide-eyed in a corner.  It strips you naked and raw, laughing and pointing at you and ripping your fresh scabs so you bleed evermore.

<p><div class="pull-right">https://steemitimages.com/DQmSc9RhiGUrPjqLjR3adLprQBZ5E7VfERRKGfrNwF7ezBr/image.png</div> I hesitate to call it a "disorder".  They don't call mourning the loss of a loved one a disorder, neither should the survival instinct one experiences after a traumatic event be called a disorder.  It's simply the body's way of preventing you from ever repeating that particular near death experience again.  Even if it wasn't quite a near death experience- sufferers of repeat abuse can experience PTS also, for instance- the brain cannot distinguish between the two as the same chemicals were released and the same feelings felt.

From here on out I will call it PTS.

After spending several hours freezing, wet and in shock in the tunnel, they finally removed the trucks and passenger vehicles blocking both ends of the tunnel.  I watched as they swept up the pieces of my Jeep and put her, along with articles of clothing, water bottles, and other belongings which had poured from vehicles, into clear plastic bags.

I cried freely.

The DOT driver Frank drove Amanda, the semi driver, and me to 20 miles to the nearest town.  Amanda was pleasant and talked strangely cheerily with Frank. I considered how shock must affect everyone differently.  The semi driver was talking angrily in his home tongue to someone on the phone and I just as well sat in silence.  The desert miles passed by as I had a hard time thinking about anything but the invading images of all I had witnessed in the tunnel.

We were driven to the casino entrance and dropped unceremoniously.  We each had several large bags and struggled them through the posh reception hall, and wound around blackjack tables and down slot machine aisles.  Ding Dings and bells and clanging coins serenading our morbid march.  The gamblers staring at us.  Obvious outsiders.  Not there for entertainment and luck nor sullen from financial loss- our faces held an altogether different presence.  They stared.

I led the way.  To where, I didn't know.  I felt like I was moving on autopilot.  I felt like I was missing pieces of myself.  I was lost and alone and sad and scared and stiff and I didn't know why they were following me- I didn't know where I was going or what to do.

I wanted to give up and just lie there.  Right where I was.  I didn't care anymore.

I finally found a bar lounge in the back and led my fellow strays to a table.  "I'll watch your stuff so you can use the restrooms, then you can watch mine."  They nodded nodded in unison and dropped their bags on the seats, then moved wide eyed and pale faced in the direction I had pointed toward the restrooms.

A cocktail waitress appeared, her face awash in concern.  I explained who we were, what had happened, and that the DOT had dropped us here.  Compassion replaced the look of confusion in her eyes and she gave us a table with USB ports and told us to ask her for anything we needed.  My two accident mates came back and it was my turn to wash up.

I proceeded to make the necessary phone calls.

<p><div class="pull-left">https://steemitimages.com/DQmRanFjSnTx533YPtN4nK8gahB9m2afdSP54fSBw3waiN7/image.png</div> Who do you call after a horrific accident?  In the tunnel I had been driven to call my loved ones.  But, then what?  Frank had said to call our insurance agents when we got to the casino, so that is what I did.  

Ok, and then.... what?  Get home.  ASAP.  But how? All of my people were a thousand miles away, and I absolutely did not want them on this road...  

I would have given almost anything for my loved one to come and rescue me.  Take care of me and take me home so I wouldn't have to think anymore.  But I did not want anyone I knew on this road.  Going through that death trap tunnel.  Nope. No way.

The truck driver hitched a ride with another trucker within minutes of arriving.  And Amandas parents were still two hours away.  I got a discount for a rental car, but I was anxious.  Plus... I would have to drive back through the tunnel...  I looked up small planes from the tiny local airport- $600.  Amtrac- $590.  Greyhound bus $450.  Are you kidding me?  A rental would cost me $50 a day- probably two day drive in this weather, and $65 for a cheap hotel.  But I couldn't drive yet.  There was no way.  I couldn't have forced myself to drive so soon, could I?

I talked with the cocktail waitress and she hooked me up.  The Red Lion Hotel which owned the property gave me a deeply discounted room- $45 for a $200 room.  I would sleep off the adrenaline of the day and rent a car in the morning.  

Amanda found me and said the wrecking yard where they had taken our vehicles said we have to remove all of the remaining belongings (including our license plates) from our vehicles before 5pm or we would be charged.  I had her put her things in my room and I asked the hotel shuttle to go collect our belongings.

In hindsight, this strikes me as strange.  In a hotel shuttle drivers everyday job they drive people to and from the airport, convention halls, rental car places, and touristy joints.  I found it completely natural and didn't even think twice to ask them to drive us to the wrecking yard so we could collect the broken pieces of our journey amongst blood, vehicle fluids, and shattered dreams.

This is not the first time I acted robotically and without thought.  

After, I told Amanda to chill in my room and wait for her parents.  It was better than the bright lighted obnoxious loud smoke filled casino which belied our now somber moods.  The adrenalyn was seeping away and even Amanda was no longer chatty.  

The silence in the room hung like a shared secret of a very bad wrongdoing.

Her parents arrived an hour later.  Her mom hugged her for ages, then turned and held me tight.  The relieve on their faces upon seeing their daughter virtually unharmed choked my throat with a heavy knot.

Then I was all alone...

A bit of advice I hope you never have to use- never leave an accident victim alone after the event.  I felt that instinctively with Amanda and kept her with me.

<br>

After they left, I wandered around the casino.  I did not want to be alone.  

I was physically exhausted.  It was all too much to take and my body was shutting off.  The adrenaline dump had left me weak, heavy and careless.  But my mind was overactive and the restless need to distract away from accident thoughts won and I wandered for a time.

Everything was still so surreal.  Colors were subdued and dreamlike.  It wasn't until the following night when everything would appear normal.  It's funny what your mind does when something traumatic happens.

Everyone has a person.  That One you want to tell it to when something really good happens to you.  Or something bad.  That One who knows you so well and can calm you when needed and knows just what to say when you need a distraction.  

Do not be hesitant to call your One.  Over and over if needed.  They will save you from losing your mind even more.

<p><div class="pull-right">https://steemitimages.com/DQmciwiThR9VhgWbSMZa6bWenKf1SRzPLAVqVQYaMRQ67pw/image.png</div> Speaking of minds.  Sigh.  For the next few hours I would break into spontaneous tears.  I sat in the casino restaraunt and broke into uncontrollable tears.  I walked down an aisle of flashy bright slot machines and spontaneous tears streamed freely.  I could think of nothing or think of anything- it didn't matter.  

It was 7pm.  The last thing I had eaten was a small pastry at 8am.  I ordered a burger and fries knowing that one- I had to eat something, especially considering the condition I was in, and two- I instinctively felt carbs were what my adrenaline ravished body needed.  I forced a half dozen small bites and took the rest back to my room.  It was a good start.

I couldn't have been in a better town.  The casino employees and townspeople playing the games all knew who I was.  Seet, soft spoken and kind, dozens of locals approached me throughout the evening, offering condolences, wondering how I was walking, and telling me they were so glad I was alright. I wish to send thanks and hugs to each and every resident of Elko I encountered. Your hearts are genuine and the way you interacted with me was cathartic.  Considering I was a stranger, I couldn't have been surrounded by a more healing community.  I will never forget you and your kindness and compassion.

And I hope they fix your tunnels.  Soon.  You deserve to feel safe driving to work.  

I soaked in a hot tub for an hour before bed.  But decided to use the free $10 Match Play ticket the casino gave me.  I had to use it by midnight so I figured what the hell.  I sat down at a blackjack table at 10:50pm.

The dealer and two other gamblers knew who I was of course, and greeted me with kind compassion and amazement that I was barely injured.  I told them and the pit boss that I needed to win big tonight so I can have a new Jeep delivered in the morning and then immediately install heaters in their tunnels for the black ice the residents say is in the tunnels year round except for the month of August.

It worked for a while.  I won the first bet so my free $10 was now $20.  I played for an hour- meager bets of $10 to $15 per hand.  I enjoyed a well made cocktail on the house which helped to further soothe my jangled nerves.  But most of all was the company.  Gentle talk and banter from a great group of real people.

I walked away with $100.  

That actually felt really good.  I needed that.  It's strange, but winning a little money did wonders for my mood.  My little win uplifted my spirits and reminded me that good things happen, too.

I laid in my beautiful California King size bed and closed my eyes and...

Couldn't sleep.  For hours.

I was doing pretty good at distracting my brain.  Images from the accident kept playing on repeat in my mind, but I successfully replaced them with good images.  I put a neutral movie on the television for further distraction.  I took three diphenhydramine to make me sleepy.  But it took hours to finally fall asleep.

<p><div class="pull-left">https://steemitimages.com/DQmSh5BXRApr3WBdwNSrvWH7TP9JE8xwBpUBHZ9emgjSeSJ/image.png</div> The moment I fell asleep I couldn't distract myself, obviously.  Immediately the movie of the crash played in my head.  I looked in the rearview and saw the semi and trailer jackknifed, coming straight at me fast.  When it hit, my body jerked so hard that I hit my head on the oak headboard. Hard enough to leave a concussion.  I awoke immediately of course and my body would not let me sleep for a very long time after.
<br>

Do you think I can physically and mentally drive through that tunnel in the morning?  Do *I* really think I can?

That, and my four day journey home in the next episode.  

To be continued... 

Part 1[My Near Death Experience](https://steemit.com/jerrybanfield/@arbitrarykitten/my-near-death-experience) and Part 2- [the Accident Aftermath](https://steemit.com/jerrybanfield/@arbitrarykitten/the-accident-aftermath) of the incident.  Trigger warning- graphic and raw.

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### What if the last person on Earth was the one you hated most? Dead i. A Steemit Original Fiction Series. [Episode 3 is out now!](https://steemit.com/fiction/@arbitrarykitten/dead-i-a-steemit-original-fiction-series-episode-3) & start from the beginning with [Episode 1](https://steemit.com/fiction/@arbitrarykitten/dead-i-a-steemit-original-fiction-series-prologue) Prologue and [Episode 2](https://steemit.com/fiction/@arbitrarykitten/dead-i-a-steemit-original-fiction-series-episode-2)
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