It's my story, and I'll say what I want to

It's now a month since I got hit. The physical scars are disappearing. The scabs are falling off. My knees are still painful. and my left one is still impossible to bend or straighten fully. My shoulders are a nit of a mess. My right one cannot be straightened and I can't seem to lift anything heavy with either of them. My right being the worst side. My mental and psychological issues are more worrying. Especially since they don't seem to be getting better.

But I gotta write.

When I started this blog, I had visions of making a difference. My heroes were, and still are, Hunter S. Thompson, and the fictional character based on him - Spider Jerusalem. I will never be in their league. But Who they are, what they have done, and what they have influenced in the world, they inspire me. Spider's filthy assistants, technology, and the collection of guns both he and Hunter had would hardly be denied as draws either.

Right now, and ever since the accident, the wallpaper on my machine has been one of Spider. It's a scene from the comic book, right after he realises that his mind is going.

I may not be as influential. I may not have the women, the fame, and the drugs. But I have the same problem they have. I gotta write.

And today, as has been for quite a while, my topic is me, and what happened.

A month ago today, I, La and Chande-girl decided to catch a movie. After that, we were off to the Beach Waadiya to have dinner at the invitation of my friend ChandUK. Yes, I'm not naming them. I will be giving a name to someone, but if you're bored with the story, got watch Redtube or something. They have a porn video of a group dressed as smurfs having sex.

Back to the story.. We started at 1330, watching Prince Caspian at Liberty. As is normal for me, I picked up some beers. The short stubby ones since they were out of cans. The three of us shared the beers, and I drank more than the others. At the end of the show we decided to go watch The Hulk at Majestic. Bought another four large bottles on the way. Which we all shared, and which i must have had about 1 1/2 bottles of. I can't remember. Not because I was drunk, but because I cannot remember what happened around the accident. Head and brain trauma works that way, and I probably never will recover those memories.

From here on, until I wake up in hospital it is pure conjecture and hearsay. Completely inadmissible in a court of law. Its based on statements by my friends and by the guy who hit me.

First off, I was not drunk. It takes me more than 2-3 beers over a course of 5-6 hours to get me drunk. And even my friends agree that I wasn't. We were, apparently, just high on life. We had been to see a good movie, and spent most of it discussing what happened and the CGI. The shame of it is I can only remember half the movie. Right up to the point where The Hulk is jumping off the helicopter. Or was that part of the trailer? I will never know.

So after all that, we went to the Savoy to go for dinner at the Wadiya.

According to the guy who hit me, he went past me and then I jumped off the kerb and ran into the side of his vehicle fast enough for me to get thrown about 10 feet or more forward. My friends are honest, they say they didn't see what happened because they jumped just ahead of me. Then, the guy who hit me says, he stopped immediately, and then parked at the nearby checkpoint and walked back to check on me, and was careful enough to carry me himself and put me in a threewheeler. My friends say that I was put in the threewheeler by a threewheeler guy himself, and they were too concerned about me to actually look around to see who it was, and where the vehicle was.

Apparently I was not completely unconscious. Just conscious enough to repeatedly tell people to yank the cable out which, I guess, makes sense if you're a computer geek. And I was a bad patient. They had problems getting me to x-ray, and since I smelled of the beer I had drunk and possibly puked up, I was classified as an alcoholic.

The next thing I remember after the movie, was waking up in a lot of pain, to find Bud, Chanux, Seejay, Kanch, Dassa, Kunch and the Mad Monk standing around me. Nice of them to come. If I remember, Chanux and Seejay went and got me some Fanta too. I remember them asking me if I remembered them, and I had no problems identifying them, and swearing at them for good measure. That was one of the few lucid moments I had. I remember a cop speaking to me, and I remember signing a statement. But I couldn't read it, or understand. I may have confessed to being Prabhakaran here in Colombo to blow up Parliament for all I know.

The guy who hit me, who apparently is a doctor, had parked his vehicle (apparently a Pajero) at the checkpoint. then gone home and spent about three or four hours before he went to the police station. I don't know what he was doing for so long. He tells me he went for a piss, but as far as I know, as a guy he could have pissed anywhere in the road. Maybe he had to go say prayers of thanks to his god that I was alive, and alright.

The next day, he had come to see me in hospital, but I don't remember anyone introducing themselves. That morning I had been unconscious, but Shani, Sanj, and the Mad Monk had been there. And if you know who I'm talking about, they are the nicest and most decent looking people that you can find. And no one had introduced themselves to them either.

That evening I was moved to ward (I think) 27 where I was given a plastic chair and told, We don't have any beds, but feel free to get comfortable and sleep in that chair all you want. It was at that time I called my parents up and asked to be taken home. I signed myself out of hospital, and moved out.

For the next two weeks I was at home resting up. Had problems moving my arms and legs, had problems staying awake, or even conscious. At the end of two weeks I did the training session at Hali Ela. No one, especially the guys at the Ministry, wanted me to go. But I insisted. I got the CAT scans, x-rays and blood tests done. I also got new glasses to make up for the ones I was missing. My parents paid for all of it, and I have no idea what they cost. I do remember that the glasses cost about LKR10,000.

I was at Hali Ela when I got the message from the Center. Someone had been calling for me, could I please call them back. Figuring it was a client I called up, to find that it was the guy who had hit me. He said he wanted to meet me to come to a settlement.

Before we go any further, I want to say a few things. I am not angry with the guy for hitting me. I can't even remember the accident, why should I be angry for that? I was not and am not expecting compensation. My parents didn't expect anything back when they took me to Apollo to be treated, its what parents do for their kids. I will mention his name, so if you don't want to hear it, then don't read any further. I am mad at him for his callousness, the way he acted, and the way he treated me after the fact.

I planned on meeting him the day after I came back to Colombo, and he called me on the day we were supposed to meet. That was when I realised that things were going to be hairy. His first words to me were, Hello Wijenayake. What time shall we meet today. No Mr. Wijenayake, no Suchetha, nothing. Calling someone by his last name is the equivalent of a challenge. I wasn't in any shape to go, but agreed. My parents also wanted to come with me and talk on my behalf.

That evening, at the copshed in Wellawatte, we were waiting for the guy. He took his own time showing up, and walked in. The first thing that pissed me off about his was that he made no apologies for hitting me. And he treated me and spoke to me like i was some kind of street bum he hit. He was the one who told the story that it was he who put me in the trike, and that I had stepped off the kerb and into the side of his vehicle as he drove by me. And that he had stopped and waited for me, and then been forced to go home because he had to go to the toilet to pee.

I tried to talk to him, tell him who and what I was, and that I was not the cheap-ass guy he thought, but then, and even now, I have a problem expressing myself. I finally left it to my parents to remind him that he hadn't even apologised. At which point he apologised, not to me, but to my parents. He then asked how much we wanted as a settlement so as not to take the case to court. My father, who is better at this than I am, said that they had spent LKR50,000 on me since the accident, for medicines, doctors, tests, and treatment. The other guy said he didn't introduce himself to me or my friends because he didn't want to influence them, but apparently had a complete report of my stay at Kalubowila, something even we didn't have. He then mentioned that the price was too much. My father said that they were not there to haggle, and would see them in court. He also made a statement to the police that there was no settlement.

That, as they say, was that. I have more than a few issues that piss me off about it.

First off, according to the cops, I'm fine. In perfect health. If I wasn't, I would have stayed in hospital. Never mind that the place had no beds. A sick man would have stayed there, or got transferred to another government hospital. That I moved out, and only got myself scanned and checked in a private hospital means that I am physically fine. And if I wanted to say that I wasn't, I should get checked back into a hospital. Apparently the legal system is based on the idea that if you're sick you're in a government hospital, and if you're not in one, you're not only well, but quite hale and hearty. Which explains why all the politicians who are suffering from some disease to escape being dragged into courts are in the hospital, wearing oxygen masks and holding press conferences.

And the next thing that pisses me off is the guy who hit me. The fact that he's a doctor. The fact that he took three hours after the accident to get to the police and make a statement. The fact that he didn't introduce himself to anyone at the hospital. The fact that he was completely unapologetic and acting like a superior asshole. In fact, those last two especially, piss me off. I was never angry with the guy who hit me, accidents will happen. I was angry because everyone thought he had driven away. But the biggest reason I am pissed off is because he came off as unapologetic, and figured that since I came to speak to him, and maybe since I was wearing my customary black t-shirt and jeans when he hit me, that I was well beneath his high status as a doctor. And more than pissing me off, it disappoints me in the state of doctors. I've got aunts and uncles who are doctors. Cousins and friends. One of whom. who was a LUGger, apparently checked up on me, at least by remote. But when a doctor, especially one who was the uninjured/active party in the accident, doesn't bother to even say hello to his victim, or to apologise when they meet, that is callousness of a high level. It makes you wonder what kind of a doctor he is in the first place, and is the reason why I came to the decision to mention his name. The guy's name was Dr Akbar. He works as a gynaecologist, and as far as he told me, at the Colombo North hospital. On the E-channelling site there is one Akbar listed, and he is a gynaecologist.

I am not, I repeat, not saying the guy on the site is him. For all I know, the guy may have given me a fake name, job, and address.. I don't know. All I know is, if I ever have to go see this doctor, I would be asking myself what kind of guy do I want my doctor to be.

Just to keep a log for myself, this post took three hours to write. While it is long, it was simply a report. I have not added anything to it except at the end, where I write my feelings about the accident. It still took me that long. I'm still not myself. But, like Spider Jerusalem, I'll try to make it back. Or maybe I'll end up like Hunter S. Thompson.