The Accident...Part III: Breathe

We have all heard about people who smash into buildings because they hit the wrong pedal or whatever. To be perfectly honest, I have been really hard on those people in my judgment of their abilities to drive. I mean, you're in your car that you drive all the time...most of the time we're on autopilot anyway while we're driving. We know how it feels to be on the brake instead of the gas or clutch or whatever. A person knows subconsciously how it feels when they put their feet in certain places while driving their car. So how is it possible that someone would inadvertently hit the gas instead of the break?

I don't have an answer to that question. I still actually feel that way to a certain extent because of the reasoning I gave above: the familiarity of your vehicle and the driving on autopilot thing. But I will say this: I have learned what it feels like when it happens, and it's pretty damn scary.

If you've been following along, you'll remember that I had just moved over onto the side of the road to miss whatever silver flash it was that darted in front of us. It was actually quite smooth, all things considered, and there was an exceptionally wide berth as luck would have it. In another life, I would not have given this incident any secondary thought because it did go so smoothly...and safely.

But just as I was about to move back onto the road (I had checked the random traffic around me and all was clear), an unexpected twist in the safety of our position occurred. Apparently I had moved over just as the guard rail split, and I didn't notice. I mean, it's not like I was busy thinking, "hey...where's the guard rail? Shouldn't there be a guard rail?". No. I mean, who does that?

So there I was in my 17' fully-loaded U-Haul van...in the middle of a guardrail split...and unfortunately, and unbeknownst to me, over just a little too far. For all of a sudden, at what seemed to be 100 miles an hour, the guardrail was coming straight for us. And not straight in the middle either. That I might have been able to move around. No. It was coming at me, which in the split second I had to sum things up, meant that if I made a mad dash for the freeway's edge, that guard rail would most certainly impale my passenger like a piece of chicken on a kabob.

I had no choice (assuming I didn't want man-kabob that day) but to head the other way...into the field adjacent to the freeway.

Now, if you have ever been in that part of the country (or in any desert-type of land) you know that its flat. Really flat. So if you were in a predicament like mine, heading over into the field to come to a stop and regroup wasn't a bad option. And as I considered the alternative, it was clearly my only option.

It all would have been fine except for one thing, and you've probably already guessed it: the gas pedal. Yep. I started hammering on what I thought to be the break as we jumped off the freeway altogether and into the field...except it wasn't the break at all. And my brain freaked out trying to understand why we were speeding up instead of stopping...because, after all, I was certain that I was on the break. Certain.

Of course I started screeching at the top of my lungs for my partner to wake up. Something was wrong with the truck...the brakes won't stop...we're going faster instead! Imagine what his face must have looked like, if you can stomach it. I can still see it, plain as day. Pure panic is the only word to describe it. He was immediately screaming at me, "What are you doing?", as I kept screeching about how I couldn't stop and how I didn't know what to do.

I finally glanced down to confirm the position of my feet, and I was horrified to see the brake sitting on the other side of my foot untouched. But I didn't have time to say to myself, "You idiot", or anything stronger. I had no time because even though I was now truly slamming on the brake, there was real danger. We were going really fast in a field in the desert...in the middle of nowhere.

And then I saw it. I saw a huge culvert...one of those metal things that you play in as a kid...one that allows the water to run through underneath your driveway or roads. This one, being where it was, was large enough for cows to go through. This all would have been fine if we weren't travelling at what seemed to be the speed of light and also straight at a huge embankment. So huge, I'm sorry to say, that there was no hope of going around or over. We both knew, a few loooong seconds before it happened, that we were going to hit this thing head on.

For those of you that don't know: earth is like concrete when its compact like that embankment was. The only thing that would have been stronger would have been a rock-cliff. 

I remember turning my wheel to the right just as we hit. After that, it was like being in your dryer on the tumble-dry cycle...and that tumbling went on for a notable amount of time...with dirt being splashed in my hair and face as we continued to crash. I don't know if I remember coming to a stop or if I was just knocked out. I just know that it was suddenly over.

My memory of the experience after the crash is in pieces. My first memory is of me asking myself, "am I dead", followed by, "am I hurt"? I couldn't answer either question at first. It was dark and silent, and I couldn't move, so I wasn't too sure about the answers. But I eventually realized that my left arm was hurt, so I was probably not dead, and that I was severely trapped because I could only move my right lower leg and my right arm.

Then I heard my partner yelling my name. I tried to inhale enough air to yell back, but breathing was ferociously difficult. So I answered as loud as I could, telling him that I was stuck. I also heard other voices. Good Samaritans were already on the scene! Amazing! I knew there were cars on the road at the time; I had seen them. But because I was trapped in the dark, I didn't remember that it had been sunrise and that people probably saw the whole thing happen.

I have no idea to this day who the people were who stopped. I do know that they were among the first people who saved me. And I know if they weren't there to help my friend, he could not have helped me...and that I would have died as a result. I owe them my deepest thanks. Hopefully one day they will come across this post and know I am speaking of them.

I can remember being stuck so tight...my knees above my breasts and pinned to my chest...nothing able to move except my right lower leg and my right arm. My left arm felt like it was broken and my fingers on my left hand wouldn't move. I remember being able to see them (my left arm and fingers) because there was a small tear--for lack of better words--in the metal on the side of the van and a shimmer of light...light which was getting brighter as the desert sun rose...was able to get through. I could just see a peek of the desert floor.

My seat had somehow, after the airbag punched me in the face, slammed me down under the steering wheel (which actually turned out to be up under the steering column into the "innards" of the truck), with my seatbelt still on me. It hurt to breathe...it was so tight and so small a space. I vividly remember thinking that I must manage my breathing because I knew, knew that if I didn’t...if I panicked...I might die. And that realization, my friends, is a tough one to understand and still not panic.

To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I did it (the breathing thing) for as long as I did. Some sort of survival mechanism living inside me took over, one which I cannot remember and certainly haven’t been able to recall to my aid since. Apparently its only available in real life or death situations. Hmmm. Too bad...I can think of many times when I could have used that special resolve/strength/whatever.

Anyway...

As you might have understood from the description above, the van had ended up on its side, the driver's side to be exact. My passenger, just to answer everyone's burning question, broke nothing. He bruised everything: bones, organs, etc., but he did not break or seriously injure anything...physical. Through his aching pain (because bruised bones are pain like the devil, as anyone who's had them will tell you), he was able to climb out and back in and dig me out of the mass of our suitcases and whatnot...since everything that did not go flying out the windows ended up on top of where I was, at the bottom of the pile, under the steering column.

The van had a third seat in the middle...one of those half seats you see in many cars and trucks. I can remember, as we waited for the first police officer to arrive, the Good Samaritan and my driving partner trying with all their might to pull that seat out. We were all thinking that if they could move it, perhaps I would then have room enough to escape. Unfortunately, the seat wouldn't budge, and the weight of the men was only something I could tolerate for a limited time (remember now...the van was on its side, so they had to step on places that were on top of me).

I remember a police officer was finally on the scene and told me that emergency crews were on their way. I remember hearing the emergency crews arrive on scene. I am pretty sure that I did not stay conscious the entire time because there are some gaps in my memory. I remember that the jaws of life was engaged because they could not get me out easily. I also remember one incident when they (the crew members...no idea which ones) were relatively near me outside the van, and they were arguing about which way was best or something...I only remember that they were arguing. And I got so frustrated at that moment that I pulled in as much air as I could tolerate and yelled at them to, "stop arguing near me and help me"! 

I'd like to take this opportunity to say thank you to the emergency crews who saved me. They were exceptional. Yet, a note to all emergency crew members out there: don't argue near those who are trapped. It makes them panic because you appear as though you have no clue what you're doing...and let's face it...you're supposed to be the heroes who save the day. Not people who need time to figure out how to get along.

I remember that they asked me to chuck anything I could out that small hole...the one that was providing me light. This was so that they could get some idea of where I was. I didn't know it at the time, but no one could see me. I was shoved so far up and in such a weird spot. The crews eventually used a saw to rip open the van, listening to me in case they got too close (which happened only once or twice...near my left hand).

I was trapped, in total, for just about 4 hours before being freed. I remember them ripping open the van and a bunch of light pouring in...and a huge, yellow fireman's hat was coming through...a friendly face with it. I do not remember how my extraction all happened exactly, but I remember feeling as though I was at a rock concert because there were so many hands under me. First 4, then 8, then 12. All supporting me and lifting me out of the space that may have been my tomb had things gone differently.

I was in an ambulance for a short stint. I don't remember much. I don't remember seeing my driving partner at that time. I don't remember (though I was told by a trusted source...one that I will talk about later) that when they put me on the flat board, my knees went straight up into the air, as close to my chest as they would go. It took a considerable sedative to relax me enough so that my legs could be strapped down.

One of last things I remember about being on scene is the sound of the helicopter starting up. They brought me over to it and were strapping me in, and I remember, very distinctly, being afraid. And just as the last strap was being tightened and the sedative was really starting to do its job to relax me, the EMT leaned in and said gently, "You're gonna be fine now. Just breathe".

I was out like a light.

The Accident...Part II: Clairvoyance and The Effect of Animals

I do not claim myself to be clairvoyant. I am not opposed to the concept...in fact I would say I wholeheartedly believe that some people have this ability. I certainly do not have any gifts toward that end. However, during the time whilst making decisions about my method of moving across country (do I buy a car and put stuff in storage? do I go for it with a large U-Haul?), I was haunted by daydreams of a car crash in which my dog died.

These daydreams, if you could call them that, were more like in the back of my head, really…not something that I envisioned in front of me...and they felt like jolts of screaming anxiety. They felt like jolts, that is, unless I allowed myself to drift off and really see the manifestation of one of my deepest fears (i.e. watching a beloved pet die in front of me), then I was outright freaked for a good while...to the point of needing medication at times.

The nightmare (isn't it really a daymare if its in the day?) consisted of me all alone, driving a forest-green, Jeep Cherokee-type vehicle on some stretch of desert highway, when suddenly and without warning, there is a loud crash and my dog, Jasper, is going through the windshield. Even now I can see it, and it makes me shudder, fight tears away, and most certainly feel that same jolt of anxiety I felt back then whenever I had the thought.

Nowadays, when I am feeling rather than thinking, I often feel/think I was seeing an alternate path to this same destiny, as I tend to believe there are several routes we choose to take, for good or bad, to lead us to the same significant destined points in our lives. Kind of like how we can drive 5 different ways to get to the grocery store, but in the end they all lead to the store. One route might take you through a neighborhood with beautiful mansions, while another may be just a quiet country road, and a third takes you through a ghetto with people accosting your vehicle at every stoplight. Anyway, I think I happened to see that one particular "route" so clearly, that I was able to avoid its scene entirely; yet regardless of this, like I said, a different route can still lead to the same destiny.

But like I said, I am not clairvoyant, so what do I know of alternate paths and whatnot? I can tell you that the ultimate “rationalization” was that the pets would be a nuisance whether I was in a car or a U-Haul; thus, it only made sense for me to fly them home and drive on without them in the mix. I did the flying adventure with 3 pets across the continent, inclusive of 2 stops. Poor things. We made the mad-dash journey on September 16th, and I stayed for 5 days to acclimate them to my mother’s home; the place to which we were all headed until I could successfully change my working relationship with the company in Cambridge from a highly-used consultant to full-time employee, at which time my moving to Massachusettes would be a sure thing.

The acclimation process was nothing for the animals. The outside temperature was still rather mild and the cats at least were super psyched to have a larger house in and with which to raise havoc. Looking back, I think the acclimation process should be described as me standing between my mother and my animals, particularly the cats, who were clearly going to ruin her house and the life of her 100-year old, deaf as a polk cat, Liz.

I remember being incredibly sad the day before I was to go back to California. I wasn’t going to see my pets for 3-weeks. My mother, whether it was a serious comment or an attempt to make me forget my sadness, kept repeating that it would be the longest 3-weeks of her life. Yeah, bet she wouldn’t have said that had she known what was to come.

I sobbed the day I left my mom’s to go back to Cali. Mostly because Jasper, as we shut him (and the cats who didn’t mind at all) in the cellar for the day,  was giving me a look as though I was coldheartedly abandoning him there. Because Jasper was my only consistent companion over the last 8-years, I knew those looks well (just as he knew how to give them to me in an effort to guilt me...crafty dog). And as I walked up the stairs to the car, and ultimately made the trek across country that day, there were no words to describe the heaviness of my journey...particularly because I knew that there would be no life in my home when I returned.

As I said in Part I of this story, we set out on Monday the 28th in the afternoon. My partner drove the first shift, and I did my best to get some sleep, though it wasn't easy...I was too excited and hey, it was the middle of the day. But somehow sleep found me on and off between stops for gas, etc., until finally, at approximately 4 in the morning, my partner was ready to call it quits.

He had found a nice truck stop for the exchange. One in which there was a place for me to wash up and change my clothes...a clean place no less. I got myself all ready for the coming day (teeth and hair brushed, face washed, new clothes, the works), and left with some breakfast munchies and a ginormous, yummy coffee.

I climbed into the U-Haul, this time on the driver's side, and took a deep breath. I remembered my inital reaction when I had went to get the van in the first place, which was something along the lines of, "this is such a bad idea". But I kept telling myself that those were just the nervous thoughts of someone who had never driven a vehicle such as this, and that if I thought about it rationally, I would see the obvious: that everything was going to be just fine. I was going to be driving on stretches of freeway which were pretty much straight and uncrowded. I-40 through New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma is all pretty much like that, I recalled to myself from memories of my last 2 trips on that stretch of road.

So I was as confident as I could be as I pulled onto the freeway in the dark at 4:30ish in the morning on September 29th.  We were just outisde of Albequerque, Mew Mexico., and my partner, who had been driving now for a very long time, went straight to sleep.

There's one thing I have come to know about our great nation's landscape: sunrises and sunsets are wonderful in New Mexico and Colorado. I drove for about an hour and a half before the sunrise I was hoping to see showed up. It was so beautiful that it could make your heart sing, so I hung my iPhone out the window of the Van and snapped a few pictures as best I could without aiming. This picture was the only one I actually took, and it doesn't even come close to what was there that day. And even so, its still really beautiful, isn't it?  It was the last sunrise I was to see for weeks.

It may or may not be obvious, but the sunrise wasn't what led to the accident. It was, as you may have guessed, an animal. It wasn't my dog because he wasn't there...instead it was a flash of silver hair...a fox or a hare perhaps. Instinctually I moved out of the way (which is to say that I "swerved", except you don't really swerve in a fully-loaded 17' U-Haul...you move/glide over) and onto the shoulder. I moved over smoothly and without injury to the animal.

Looking back I realize that at that exact moment, the moment when I swerved to miss the silver animal in the road, my "different route"...the route that I had chosen to take so that Jasper would not be killed in an accident...had just found its intersection to the same destiny I was always to reach.

I realize in my times of reflection that yes, I did save Jasper's life. There's no question that neither he, nor my cats would have survived that crash. But as I sit here using hindsight I realize that I failed to recognize something very obvious in that recurring daydream/nightmare. I had failed to pay attention to the recurring thought of an accident on a stretch of highway that looked just like this one.

And now here I was...