a Room With a View

January 14, 1995, 9:45pm-- a night I will never forget. Today is the 16 year anniversary of the car accident that nearly claimed my life.  My sister had just dropped my friend off at his parents' house so I decided to ride shotgun but forgot to buckle up in the process. We were heading home when the car went over an invisible patch of ice covered in the newly fallen snow. The vehicle hydroplaned, hitting the opposite curve, bursting two of the tires and sending us spiraling out of control down a hill. At the bottom was the river.  Fortunately (if you could even call it fortune), we went head-on into a tree instead, preventing the potential of the car breaking through the ice and sinking into the freezing water. Everything seemed to slow down as I tried to brace myself for the impact... but you can never quite prepare your body for that kind of trauma.

First, as I neglected to use my seat belt, my head hit the windshield, the glass cutting away half the skin on the right side of my forehead to the bone as well as cutting my right eyelid in half.  My jaw was fractured.  Had I not had braces-- and I was set to have them removed the next day-- I would have lost all my bottom teeth.  Actually, they were dangling loose in my mouth held only by the brace wire.  To add to the pain, my knees were through the dashboard.

Everything went black.

The first time I regained consciousness, I woke up to my sister screaming and shaking me, then I passed out shortly after. The second time was as the paramedics pried my knees out of the dashboard and put me onto a stretcher-- I passed out again.

Sixteen years later and I still remember the pain.

I regained consciousness in the ambulance; my head was throbbing: it felt like I had just woken up from a dream within a dream... except on my forehead it felt as if someone was extinguishing a cigar into my skin over and over again while my brain was slowly being pressed in a vice.

This was the moment panic washed over me.

All I could taste was iron. As I put my hand into my mouth to feel around, my left eye (the only working eye) caught a glimpse of my hand: it was black and crusted, the result of old blood drying and new coats of blood being applied. I could see only red out of my right eye, like I was looking through a red lens. My knees felt like they had been beaten with a crowbar; my mouth was so swollen I could barely fit my fingers in it yet all I felt was random teeth and wire.

As I processed all of this, the paramedics cut off layers of my clothing, trying to assess the damage. Because I was so cold, it was at that moment I fully recognized what was going on around me. my mind was racing-- this was surreal.  Had the pain not been overly abundant I would have seriously considered the idea that my current situation was simply an all too real nightmare. Eventually the paramedics started to cover me in blankets, yet all I could feel was the warmth leaving my trembling body.

Before I realized how much time had passed, the back doors of the ambulance swung open and I was pushed into the hospital through a maze of hallways. Staring up at the ceiling, I watched as section after section of lights passed over me.  Suddenly, my stepfather appeared at my side, tears in his eyes. I could see my sister in the background covered in scratches and bruises but other than that she, thankfully, looked fine. The nurses prevented my stepfather from following because I needed a cat scan.

While the machine rotated around my head the nurse tried to make me stand but it was futile so I sat down.  At that moment I felt warm water running down my head.  Only it wasn't water.  My bandages gave way from all of the movement, causing blood to pour down my face.  I looked at the nurse; she looked at me.  Her terrified screams brought a swarm of people into the room to stop the bleeding.  The next thing I knew I was being carted down more hallways.

It was at this moment, throughout all of the trauma, that I felt the presence of God the strongest.  By then I was so numb I felt no pain and consequently, no fear.  Instead, I was slowly slipping outside away from my body.  Though I can't explain why I conceded, I then acknowledged that I was about to die. Everything moved in slow motion again, and as I passed my stepfather and sister in the hallway I wondered if this was the last time I would see them.  I can still see the expressions on their faces.

And then I prayed.

I didn't beg, I didn't bargain, I didn't plea with God to save me.  I simply told God: "my life is in Your hands. It's up to you what you want to do with it."

Once again, everything went black.

The following day I opened my eyes to discover I was alive. Although my face was wrapped in so much bandage that I could barely see, I was alive.  Against sound medical advice, I frantically began removing the covering over my right eye, and this time I begged God.  I begged that both my eyes worked so I could look out the window and see the day.

The sunset that day was beautiful.