"OH why did he have to park this piece of junk in my way," I complained to no one but the evening air. I was trying to water the gardens on the other side of the driveway and the '85 Saab was pulled right up to the bumper of the Suburban, right where I needed to go in between with the garden hose.

Surveying the space between the two vehicles, I determined I had plenty of room to get through if I just edged through sideways.

So I picked up the hose end and started to go through. "Wow, this is tighter than I thought," I remarked as I was scraping my legs on the Saab bumper going through. And then I realized I couldn't go forward anymore. Frustrated, I decided to retreat and just go around the darned vehicles.

To my horror, my legs wouldn't move. I tried moving in every direction and nothing would budge. I was trapped.

I had just recently had a DVT in my leg, and I quickly became frantic as I felt my leg swelling between the car and truck bumpers. I looked around and saw no one - no neighbors were out despite the warm summer evening. My two teenagers had just left on dates, and I knew my husband was in the house. So I screamed. And screamed. And screamed some more. And nothing. No one came. No reply. I thought to myself, my legs are going to swell up and I'm going to die right here.

At that point I looked around for something to make noise with and found a stick I could reach. I started beating on the truck with it. I managed to get my three miniature schnauzers, who were in the fenced back yard, barking frantically. But no people came.

Finally after what seemed an eternity, probably 20 minutes, my husband opened the garage door and said "What in the hell are you doing?" When he realized my predicament he jumped in the Saab and backed it up far enough for me to get out. My legs were numb and becoming bruised from the pressure.

Of all the times for him to read the paper in the bathroom, he had to pick that one. He hadn't heard a thing.

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