The Accident

I think the reason I have such a hard time writing in this diary is because I don't think straight, and I've been trying to force myself to. I have been trying to write a memoir using a straight timeline when my memories jump around on the timeline. Instead of moving through time in a linear fashion, I will hop on a tesseract and write as my memory leads me.

In 1983, my parents remarried each other. They moved back in together after my dad divorced his second wife, and the four of us (my brother, my mom, my dad, and me) lived in a house in a kid-friendly neighborhood for a couple of years. I don't know what possessed them to remarry. Things really weren't going well. They fought like crazy, and my dad's temper was worse than ever. Though I didn't really understand the concept of drugs, they were a common thing in my house. My dad, mom, and their friends frequently hung out and passed a bong around the living room.

When my parents remarried, they bought a cute little farm house on two acres. They started buying all sorts of animals and teaching my brother and me how to care for them. My favorite was a little Catalina Pygmy Goat named Jesse. She was such a sweet little thing. She followed me around like a puppy and came running when I called her. I don't think my dad was fond of her because she ate his cigarettes and chewed on his trees, but she was my best friend. She followed me around and helped me with my chores whenever I was in the barnyard. In 1984, I turned 13 years old. My brother was not quite 15 when my dad bought him a little car. It was a Mercury Capri. My brother used to spend hours driving that little car around the back field of the property.

One Sunday afternoon while he was driving the car, something horrible happened. I was outside of the car and wanted to get in, so I started chasing it and yelling at my brother to let me in. He heard me and began to back up. Unfortunately, there were no mirrors on the car, and it was coming at me too quickly for me to jump out of the way, so I jumped on the back of the car. Once on back of the car, I tried to find something to hold onto, but I couldn't find a thing, I slid off the back of the car, burning my leg on the tailpipe as I slid down. The car coninued to go in reverse as my body was crushed underneath it.

Finally, the car stopped. Somehow, while rolling under the car, I ended up laying with my feet on the passenger side and my head on the drivers side. The tires were line up with my neck. I began to scream at my brother to stop as I used my hands to try and push myself out from under the car. I was only able to push myself out an inch or so before my brother pulled forward. The tires skidded on my arm then rolled right across my collar bone. I found out later that my brother thought I was yelling because the tires were on me. He thought he was pulling off me. After the car stopped, I somehow managed to stand up but immediately lost my balance and fell to the ground. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear everything going on around me. The words were fading in and out. I was losing consciousness. I heard my brother scream, then heard his foot steps get further away. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I don't know how long I was on the ground before my mom came running back to me. She didn't touch me, but she started talking to me, trying to bring me back to consciousness. My vision didn't come back, but I could hear her and respond to some of her questions. As she was talking, I could hear the voices of my neighbors and my dad. They were talking about blood and cutting down the fence so emergency vehicles could get into the yard.

The paramedics cut my clothes off my body. I guess it was a good thing I couldn't see because if I could, I would've seen about fifteen people gathered around me, as they cut off my clothes. I felt them wrapping something tightly around my hand and saying something about blood. They poked me, put on a neck brace, put me on a board then carried me to an ambulance. In the ambulance, I finally lost consciousness. I awoke to the bright lights of the emergency room. There were doctors and nurses all around. My mom and dad were both there, but I couldn't find my brother anywhere. For some reason, it scared me that I couldn't see him. Everything hurt. I couldn't move. I was cold, very cold. I was shaking but no one would cover me. I know this is going to sound really odd, but I was in so much pain that I started cracking jokes. Sometimes that's the only way I know how to cope when the pain gets too severe, emotionally or physically. One of the doctors later mentioned that he couldn't believe I was joking around when they were there, trying to save my life.

I was in the hospital for only a week and was able to walk around on my own after two weeks. The recovery and physical therapy were very tough and took forever, but none of this is the real story.

There were many miracles surrounding this accident, and that is the real story. The first miracle is that I had no broken bones. I swear I heard my bones cracking as the car rolled over me, but there wasn't a single broken bone. I had third degree burns on my leg, I bit through my lip, and the gravel tore the top of my left hand apart, but no broken bones.

Another miracle has to do with my hand. The gravel ripped the top of my left hand to shreds. Blood was gushing out of it. Do you remember when I mentioned that I stood up? Well, when I stood up then fell down again, I landed on my hand. I'm told that I lost forty percent of my blood through my hand. They tell me that I could possibly have bled to death before the ambulance got there had I not stood up and fallen on my hand. Falling on my hand practically stopped the flow of blood and might have saved my life. The final miracle is that the scars from that horrible accident are practically invisible right now. The burns were horrible and should be very visible on my legs, and the original scar on my hand should be gruesome, but there are virtually no marks. I'm whole, I'm healed, and I'm blessed.