The Wreck

I wasn’t in any hurry, which, as it turns out, saved my life. When my Jeep began hydroplaning, I had actually just changed lanes, so as to allow the speeding cars behind me to pass in the outside lane.

“Slip sliddin' away …” (Paul Simon)

“This is not how I wanted to die.” I had no doubt I was going to flip over the concrete guardrail, falling out of the sky onto the hwy below. There wasn’t any sense of fear, only inevitability.

Slam, bam, “Thank you Lord!” I am bouncing back toward the other guardrail.

Seeing the pavement only 6 inches from my face, I think to myself, “This can’t be good.” I try to turn and see if there are any cars about to hit me but the pain in my back won’t let me move. Not sure what I thought I was going to do about it had there been any.

Slam! and my Jeep flips back, right side up, careening back into the center of the two lanes of the ramp headed onto 285 East.

All over.

“Let’s see. No blood. Back feels on fire but, hey, I AM ALIVE!” Upon seeing what I thought was a white t-shirt draped over the steering wheel. “O man, my clothes must have been thrown from the back of the Jeep.” I later realize that it was the deployed and deflated air bag. (Docs and EMT guys all were flabbergasted that I had no airbag wounds.)

“I’m a nurse. You are going into shock. Lie still.”

“Get me out of here!”

“You MUST remain still!”

(Sweat pouring into my eyes) “I am NOT going into shock. I need to get out of here, get back home, take a shower, and go to bed!” But I can’t move because the pain is so severe … and something was different from the pain I experienced 20 years ago when Colonel and I were walking up the broken escalator in St Petersburg, Russia, and I first discovered I had a degenerating disc.

Nurse places a blanket over me. “You need to stay warm.”

“Get this off of me. I am burning up!”

She replaces blanket, so I take it and throw it to the other side of the car where she can’t get to it. She then takes my hand and just stands there with me, telling me she isn’t going to leave until the ambulance arrives. I was later told that we waited almost 2 hours before help arrived. Thank you, ma’me.

A guy walks up: “Can I do anything?”

“Help me find my phone.” He does, and I call my son to tell him I am going to be late; my sister, who I ask to meet me at emergency room; and Cathie, because I don’t want her to worry about my tardiness with promised phone call.

Fireman with arms bigger than my legs: “I am going to get you out. Can you move?”

“Damn straight I can move. Just get me out of here and find me a ride back to my apartment. I need a shower.” But when I twist so he can maneuver me out of the door, the pain is so mind-numbing that I decide that, sure, they can take me to the hospital.

I see a small young lady dressed as a Fire … person? Girl? Woman? She sees that I am agitated and somehow knows that if she will run around to the other side of Jeep and open the door, the breeze will calm me down.

“Thank you!” And I do calm down.

Being tied down to a straight board increased the pain, so I began asking if I could raise one of my legs to relieve the pain. No one pays any attention to me.

Policeman: “Hi, I am so sorry about this but I have to cite you for driving too fast ‘under conditions.’”

“I wasn’t speeding!”

“That’s why it says ‘under circumstances.’”

Great.

“I am NOT getting into that ambulance without my backpack!” Firegirl comes running with backpack in hand, “I picked up everything I saw and stuffed it inside.”

Ambulance driver slides me in … he’s laughing at what the Policeman just told him. Evidently, I kept yelling apologies to every semi- and car that drove by. (Hey, this is Atlanta. I know what it's like to get stuck on 285 and miss your children's birthday party and your wedding anniversary while waiting for the wreck to be removed.)

“Where do you want to go? What hospital?”

“Untie me!”

“No. Where do you want to go?”

“St. Joseph’s. Now, untie one of my legs before I start ripping off all the restraints.”

He does. I then entertain him with witty quips which kept him doubled over with laughter. Wish I could remember what I said.

Not sure how long I was in emergency room before my sister Sandy showed up. Man was I grateful to see her. And then daughters Three and Four, Bethany and Rachel, arrived. Fantastic! I could feeeeel my muscles relaxing.

Woosh. Mr. Wonderful, Monte IV, comes barreling in.

Having family close caused my heart rate to slow down and my blood pressure to drop back to normal.

Reading over reports from EMT descriptions of wreck, the doctor was concerned that I probably had internal damage. After hours of x-rays and CAT scans, “all” he discovered is a compressed disc and broken back. Fractured vertebrae: L-3. Orthopedic doctor later told me that had the fracture moved only a half-inch farther I would have been crippled.

I don’t remember which of my many caretakers said it, but someone mentioned that I had to have had an angel protecting me because I should have been killed. I heard this again and again. Each time I could feel tears of gratitude welling up in my eyes. “Thank you, Lord.”

And thank you, Sis, Bethany, Rachel, Monte IV and Cathie for being there. (Daughters One and Two, Rebekah and Laura who live out of town, were texting me while I was waiting on Doctor.) Thank you for calling most every day afterward, checking up on me, taking care of Insurance (Rachel), taking me to follow up visits (Bethany) … helping me get dressed and bringing me some kickin’ wine to go with my meds (Monte IV)!

And to all of you who emailed over and over and over again, texted, and called telling me of your love and prayers, I am humbled by the caliber of my friends. Colonel, CJ, Joseph, Derek and my Brother Richard were texting me while I was in Emergency Room! (My brother Charles would have but he is fighting to hold on to a rebellious kidney after transplant surgery. Talk about helping me to keep my perspective …)

A huge shout out goes to all the staff at St Joseph’s, as well, especially to Katie Card (RN) who cared for me as if I were her father.

You who have had similar experiences, know how surreal it is … how we seem to be standing outside of our bodies watching it all take place in slow motion. I knew I was dead. After that, all the pain was durable because I knew I had been given a second chance, knew that God could have … but didn’t. Two weeks later, I am still overwhelmed with gratitude: not only to God, but for my family and friends, as well.

Thank you for Being There.

Copyright, Monte E Wilson, 2010