The Waiting Game (No Cast, No Clock, No Mercy)

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There’s a specific flavor of injury no one talks about — the kind that doesn’t come with a cast, a brace, or a visible marker that says this is real.

You look fine.
You are not fine.

I was in a car wreck. Not the cinematic kind. The practical kind. The kind that rearranges your insides just enough to make everyday movement a negotiation. Imaging looks “normal.” Vitals are “stable.” Which is system-speak for we acknowledge you exist, please wait indefinitely.

So I wait. (8 hours at the ER on Tuesday night into Wednesday morning) 

I wait for the insurance company to return calls.
I wait for the lawyer to apply pressure.
I wait for a rental car that has become a theoretical concept rather than an actual vehicle. (The following three all impacted by the holidays.)
I wait for my body to decide whether today is a “functioning human” day or a “don’t cough, don’t twist, don’t breathe too deeply” day.

I sleep upright in a recliner like a half-remembered ancestor in a family photo.

My feelings are manageable. The waiting is the real grind.

Because life does not pause while you heal. Bills still arrive. Work still expects output. The world keeps spinning at full speed while you measure progress in inches and hours and pain scales that never quite capture it.

The waiting has sound.

It sounds like hold music.
It sounds like “your claim is under review.”
It sounds like cats thundering through the house at 3 AM, one of them slamming full-speed into the back of your chair because apparently gravity is optional when you’re fueled by leftover ham.

Healing in this space is not linear. It’s stop-and-go. Two good hours followed by one bad movement. You learn fast that being tough doesn’t make systems move faster — it just makes you quieter.

People ask how I’m doing, and the answers become layered.

“I’m okay” means I’m upright.
“I’m managing” means I’m hurting but stubborn.
“I’m waiting” means everything is suspended and I don’t get to opt out.

So yes, I’m injured.
Yes, I’m waiting.
And yes, I’m still working — sewing, writing, making what I can while the machinery of paperwork and recovery crawls along behind me.

Because if I’m going to be stuck in limbo, I refuse to be silent in it.

A quiet note 

Several people have asked how they can help while I recover and navigate the waiting game. If you’re able and inclined, there’s a GoFundMe set up to help cover basic expenses while everything sorts itself out.

No pressure. No expectations. Just here if you want it.
👉 Support Angela’s recovery:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-angelas-recovery-after-car-accident?attribution_id=sl:dd957acd-a074-4675-8ff1-dbf6d4988b29&utm_campaign=p_lico+update+share&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=facebook

Now — back to fuzzy hats and defiant persistence.

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