Five years ago, I had an extremely bad accident. A young man in an orange truck decided to investigate my backseat in the rudest way possible.
They had to cut my short ass out of Pearl, my beautiful car. I remember bits and pieces. Apparently there was a young man, an off-duty EMT, who saw the entire thing and rushed over, before any emergency vehicles, to check on me. Put a shirt under my bleeding head. I gave him my phone passcode, told him my wife's name, and he called her. I remember him telling me my head was bleeding a lot and sliding the shirt under it. That's it. I wish I knew who he was. I owe him my thanks.
Next thing I remember is the fire department reclining my driver's side seat and cutting me out through the seat behind me. They covered my face while doing so. My claustrophobia and anxiety have skyrocketed since then, thanks. I can remember the sound of the saw.
Now I'm in an ambulance. Mo is keeping me company. He wants to put a neck brace on me. I come back to myself in time to ask him to please not because I'm claustrophobic. Then they're wheeling me into the hospital. The medical personnel grabbing me wonder why I don't have a neck brace on, and Mo tells them I'm claustrophobic. Go Mo!
They wheel me in for a CAT scan. I remember telling one young gentleman I thought he was adorable. Yes. I flirt when I have a concussion and nearly died. Don't judge. 😇
Then I'm in a room waiting on results. Then the Honey is there. My thoughts go 'round on a carousel. I'm in. I'm out. We call the kids. My middle one cries. That hurts me. But it's a better call than the alternative.
Here I am. Five years later. Married to the Honey seven years in October. FIVE gbabies who own my heart and soul. Three beautiful children I'm blessed to have. Still kicking. Ever-so-grateful even for the chronic pain, rough days, and the clouds.
Because there are hugs, kisses, laughter, words, music, and the totality of this world I'm still a part.
Always writing*
...and living
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