final four
Looking at a life-altering event from two different perspectives
“Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others.” —
Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson
A barely 16-year old's perspective:
(Editor's Note: This is exactly what she wrote for a school paper and, to keep it in its pure and intimate form, we chose to do no editing)
(Editor's Note: This is exactly what she wrote for a school paper and, to keep it in its pure and intimate form, we chose to do no editing)
Written spring 1999
I am a cheerleader, and have been since my eighth-grade year. When I made cheerleading squad in high school my sophomore year I was ecstatic. I loved cheerleading and everything that went along with it. I always made my mom rearrange things if they conflicted with my busy cheerleading schedule.
It was March of my sophomore year. Everything was great for me. I had a boyfriend, Adam, who was wonderful to me. I had a job at McStop in Kingdom City. I didn’t love it, but I loved having my own money to spend the way I deemed worthy. I had not the best car in the world but, it wasn’t terrible and it got me around. The basketball team was doing well. They were on their way to the final four, for the first time in a long time. Everyone was pumped. You could almost smell the excitement it the air as you walked down the hallways at school. The cheerleaders were especially excited, because we were going to cheer in front of what might be the largest crowd we had ever been in front of and quite possibly ever would be.
Friday, March 19, 1999 was the day that it all would change. It was a pretty typical day at school. After school I went to McStop to pick up my paycheck. When I got there they were exceptionally busy. They asked me if I would mind coming in for a few hours to help them out. I said sure, if my mother said it was okay. I called her, she said yes, but that my family would be going to my younger sibling’s annual music program. I hurried home and got my work uniform. I worked until about 7:00pm. Then I went home, but I had forgotten that my family was gone and I didn’t have a key to get inside so I decided to go to Adam’s house and visit him until they returned. I wasn’t there for very long when the phone rang. It was my parents. I am sure you know how teenagers can be sometimes. Oh, what’s the word? Retarded! We don’t always think clearly. For some reason I thought they would be angry that I was there. I told Adam not to tell them that I was there, which he did, just doing what I wanted. I thought I would just rush home, tell them I was running late and everything would be all right. My Dad wasn’t too fond of Adam. I was afraid he would be mad and I wouldn’t be in trouble if I just didn’t tell them the whole truth. There is a gravel road that runs directly between Adams house and my house. My mom had just a day or two earlier told me not to take gravel roads because those roads can be dangerous plus it’s bad on tires. I didn’t really think about any of that. I just thought, well it’s shorter, a.k.a. faster.’ And that’s all I cared about at that time. I rushed out of Adams house without a goodbye. I was doing pretty well, rushing, but not driving what I thought of as to terribly fast. Days later I learned that the road had just been freshly graveled so that made it like driving on ice. I was going about 40 mph, the last time I remember.
I don’t everything that happened. I remember the road was going down a hill and I was going fast. I didn’t care, I wanted to be home. I remember fish-tailing, swerving. I tried to get the car back on the road. I don’t know exactly when, but at some point I realized that it was hopeless. So I did the only thing I could think of, I prayed. I closed my eyes and I prayed if God would just let me live I would never do anything this stupid again.
The next thing I remember was holding my head walking towards a house. I felt something running down my face; I thought I was just crying, I remember having a horrible headache. I recall knocking on the door of a house, asking if I could use their phone to call my parents, because I had just wrecked my car. I remember the brightness of the porch light as they turned it on. I remember the lady stepping back in surprise when she saw me in the light. I got very upset then. I was almost unable to give her my phone number. The next thing that I remember was running around a kitchen asking for a mirror. I wanted to see my face. I knew it was bad the way they were treating to me. I remember she finally relented, thinking that it would calm me down. I was sitting in a kitchen chair. I don’t remember what I saw, but the edge of the mirror was white. I got so upset over what I saw in the chair that I must have passed out, because I don’t know what happened next. I know that soon my parents showed up along with the ambulance and Adam and his mother, Sheryl. I remember wanting so bad to hug my mom. They wouldn’t let me; they told me that my neck could be broken. I kept apologizing to my parents; I got very upset when the EMT tried to give me IV’s and things. I remember someone’s voice, someone familiar, but then not. Telling me to calm down, that they were just trying to help me and I had to let them. I finally calmed down, thanks to that voice. I later found out that the voice belonged to Sheryl. I remember the ambulance ride. I was still really upset and I just wanted to hug my mom. Then I went lethargic, so I don’t remember anything else for a while. I remember being in a bed with a sheet over me because I didn’t have my clothes on anymore, because they had cut them off. There all around my bed was my family. Adam was holding my hand. My parents were there. Sheryl was there at the end of my bed. I asked if I could go the bathroom. I had been lying on the stretcher for more than two hours, as they had put me through countless tests, x-rays cat scans and MRI’s. They said I could, they wheeled my bed over to the bathroom. With my mom on one side and Sheryl on the other I was able to stand; not for long though. When I got up I was standing face to face with my reflection. I had blood all over my face.
They hadn’t been just tears earlier; I had a huge goose egg on my forehead with a very deep gash in it right by my left eye. I had two black eyes; my knees just buckled. They caught me and guided me to the toilet. There I sat and cried. I cried because I had been so stupid. I cried because I was so ugly, for that’s the way I perceived myself. They tried to comfort me. I was wheeled back into my little curtained off cubical in the ICU. A plastic surgeon came in to sew me up. When they removed the bandage on my forehead Adam passed out. So his mom took him to the waiting room. My mom realized that when I got out I wouldn’t have any clothes to wear since all mine had been cut off. She left for Wal-Mart, later admitting the reason for leaving was totally different. They began the surgery and my dad stayed to watch. I passed out, and woke up to the sound of my father’s voice telling me to breathe. An hour and a half later, I came out of surgery. Adam, his mom and my mom were all there waiting when I got out at 6am. We went home. When I got there I went to bed. At about 9am my mom had to call the school to tell them I was all right and to ask people to stop calling. At about 2:30 pm my mom woke me up and helped me take a bath. Being a wise mother, she knew within a few hours we would be attacked by a bunch of well-wishers, and mother knows best. Because at 4:00pm I began being showered by balloons, candy, cards, friends and more support than I could handle. I thought I was the most hideous looking thing ever, and I didn’t want anyone to see me. But they all had other plans. They made me see them. I could tell that everyone was trying to be positive. I saw their eyes water up when they saw me. I don’t really know what it would have been like to come into my room for the first time that day and see a messed up face like mine. But they all reassured me, I was beautiful and that they were glad that they were able to come and see me in my room rather than somewhere else. I am so thankful for all the people that came that day and helped me realize it wasn’t so bad, that I had friends who were there for me.
That day, as hard as it was, I learned about the love I am surrounded with daily, if I will just stop and notice it. On Thursday of the next week I went back to school, accompanied by my mother. I wanted so bad to just be normal again. I went on the field trip to the elementary schools that day. I stood in the back and watched my fellow cheerleaders do what I wished I were out there doing. I watched as all the players were introduced. At the last elementary school, where I attended prior to high school, I got a standing ovation. When they introduced me I cried. Again I felt their tremendous love and support.
That weekend I was able to cheer but only on the sidelines. But I was right there with them on the bench, cheering and clapping. That day was worth all the stares and rude remarks I got from people who didn’t know me. I wasn’t able to do what I wanted to, but I look back on it and thank God that I was able to sit on the bench with them and cheer my team on.
I am a cheerleader, and have been since my eighth-grade year. When I made cheerleading squad in high school my sophomore year I was ecstatic. I loved cheerleading and everything that went along with it. I always made my mom rearrange things if they conflicted with my busy cheerleading schedule.
It was March of my sophomore year. Everything was great for me. I had a boyfriend, Adam, who was wonderful to me. I had a job at McStop in Kingdom City. I didn’t love it, but I loved having my own money to spend the way I deemed worthy. I had not the best car in the world but, it wasn’t terrible and it got me around. The basketball team was doing well. They were on their way to the final four, for the first time in a long time. Everyone was pumped. You could almost smell the excitement it the air as you walked down the hallways at school. The cheerleaders were especially excited, because we were going to cheer in front of what might be the largest crowd we had ever been in front of and quite possibly ever would be.
Friday, March 19, 1999 was the day that it all would change. It was a pretty typical day at school. After school I went to McStop to pick up my paycheck. When I got there they were exceptionally busy. They asked me if I would mind coming in for a few hours to help them out. I said sure, if my mother said it was okay. I called her, she said yes, but that my family would be going to my younger sibling’s annual music program. I hurried home and got my work uniform. I worked until about 7:00pm. Then I went home, but I had forgotten that my family was gone and I didn’t have a key to get inside so I decided to go to Adam’s house and visit him until they returned. I wasn’t there for very long when the phone rang. It was my parents. I am sure you know how teenagers can be sometimes. Oh, what’s the word? Retarded! We don’t always think clearly. For some reason I thought they would be angry that I was there. I told Adam not to tell them that I was there, which he did, just doing what I wanted. I thought I would just rush home, tell them I was running late and everything would be all right. My Dad wasn’t too fond of Adam. I was afraid he would be mad and I wouldn’t be in trouble if I just didn’t tell them the whole truth. There is a gravel road that runs directly between Adams house and my house. My mom had just a day or two earlier told me not to take gravel roads because those roads can be dangerous plus it’s bad on tires. I didn’t really think about any of that. I just thought, well it’s shorter, a.k.a. faster.’ And that’s all I cared about at that time. I rushed out of Adams house without a goodbye. I was doing pretty well, rushing, but not driving what I thought of as to terribly fast. Days later I learned that the road had just been freshly graveled so that made it like driving on ice. I was going about 40 mph, the last time I remember.
I don’t everything that happened. I remember the road was going down a hill and I was going fast. I didn’t care, I wanted to be home. I remember fish-tailing, swerving. I tried to get the car back on the road. I don’t know exactly when, but at some point I realized that it was hopeless. So I did the only thing I could think of, I prayed. I closed my eyes and I prayed if God would just let me live I would never do anything this stupid again.
The next thing I remember was holding my head walking towards a house. I felt something running down my face; I thought I was just crying, I remember having a horrible headache. I recall knocking on the door of a house, asking if I could use their phone to call my parents, because I had just wrecked my car. I remember the brightness of the porch light as they turned it on. I remember the lady stepping back in surprise when she saw me in the light. I got very upset then. I was almost unable to give her my phone number. The next thing that I remember was running around a kitchen asking for a mirror. I wanted to see my face. I knew it was bad the way they were treating to me. I remember she finally relented, thinking that it would calm me down. I was sitting in a kitchen chair. I don’t remember what I saw, but the edge of the mirror was white. I got so upset over what I saw in the chair that I must have passed out, because I don’t know what happened next. I know that soon my parents showed up along with the ambulance and Adam and his mother, Sheryl. I remember wanting so bad to hug my mom. They wouldn’t let me; they told me that my neck could be broken. I kept apologizing to my parents; I got very upset when the EMT tried to give me IV’s and things. I remember someone’s voice, someone familiar, but then not. Telling me to calm down, that they were just trying to help me and I had to let them. I finally calmed down, thanks to that voice. I later found out that the voice belonged to Sheryl. I remember the ambulance ride. I was still really upset and I just wanted to hug my mom. Then I went lethargic, so I don’t remember anything else for a while. I remember being in a bed with a sheet over me because I didn’t have my clothes on anymore, because they had cut them off. There all around my bed was my family. Adam was holding my hand. My parents were there. Sheryl was there at the end of my bed. I asked if I could go the bathroom. I had been lying on the stretcher for more than two hours, as they had put me through countless tests, x-rays cat scans and MRI’s. They said I could, they wheeled my bed over to the bathroom. With my mom on one side and Sheryl on the other I was able to stand; not for long though. When I got up I was standing face to face with my reflection. I had blood all over my face.
They hadn’t been just tears earlier; I had a huge goose egg on my forehead with a very deep gash in it right by my left eye. I had two black eyes; my knees just buckled. They caught me and guided me to the toilet. There I sat and cried. I cried because I had been so stupid. I cried because I was so ugly, for that’s the way I perceived myself. They tried to comfort me. I was wheeled back into my little curtained off cubical in the ICU. A plastic surgeon came in to sew me up. When they removed the bandage on my forehead Adam passed out. So his mom took him to the waiting room. My mom realized that when I got out I wouldn’t have any clothes to wear since all mine had been cut off. She left for Wal-Mart, later admitting the reason for leaving was totally different. They began the surgery and my dad stayed to watch. I passed out, and woke up to the sound of my father’s voice telling me to breathe. An hour and a half later, I came out of surgery. Adam, his mom and my mom were all there waiting when I got out at 6am. We went home. When I got there I went to bed. At about 9am my mom had to call the school to tell them I was all right and to ask people to stop calling. At about 2:30 pm my mom woke me up and helped me take a bath. Being a wise mother, she knew within a few hours we would be attacked by a bunch of well-wishers, and mother knows best. Because at 4:00pm I began being showered by balloons, candy, cards, friends and more support than I could handle. I thought I was the most hideous looking thing ever, and I didn’t want anyone to see me. But they all had other plans. They made me see them. I could tell that everyone was trying to be positive. I saw their eyes water up when they saw me. I don’t really know what it would have been like to come into my room for the first time that day and see a messed up face like mine. But they all reassured me, I was beautiful and that they were glad that they were able to come and see me in my room rather than somewhere else. I am so thankful for all the people that came that day and helped me realize it wasn’t so bad, that I had friends who were there for me.
That day, as hard as it was, I learned about the love I am surrounded with daily, if I will just stop and notice it. On Thursday of the next week I went back to school, accompanied by my mother. I wanted so bad to just be normal again. I went on the field trip to the elementary schools that day. I stood in the back and watched my fellow cheerleaders do what I wished I were out there doing. I watched as all the players were introduced. At the last elementary school, where I attended prior to high school, I got a standing ovation. When they introduced me I cried. Again I felt their tremendous love and support.
That weekend I was able to cheer but only on the sidelines. But I was right there with them on the bench, cheering and clapping. That day was worth all the stares and rude remarks I got from people who didn’t know me. I wasn’t able to do what I wanted to, but I look back on it and thank God that I was able to sit on the bench with them and cheer my team on.
A mother's perspective:
(Taken from the journal of the barely 16-year old girl's mother.)
One evening in mid-March, 1999, our oldest daughter, a beautiful, independent, teenage girl, saw her life change dramatically in the blink of an eye from just a couple of small, poor choices.
She worked at a local fast food restaurant part-time and was asked to work an extra shift. We had planned to attend our younger children’s school Spring recital that particular evening. We knew this would be a boring event for a high-schooler and gave her permission to work instead of going with the rest of our family. When we arrived home at eight PM and found the house dark, we were a bit alarmed that she was not home. My husband began putting the other children to bed so he could sleep for a few hours before he left for the overnight shift he had just been called in for.
I called my daughter’s work and they told me she left about an hour earlier. I became increasingly alarmed as it only took about 15-20 minutes to get to our home located in a very rural area. My husband suggested I call her boyfriend’s home and see if they had heard from her, even though she knew going over there without permission was against the rules, he had a feeling that was what she had done.
When I called their home, he answered and insisted she was not there. I had a feeling that was not the truth but chose to keep calling around to her other friends in an attempt to find her. We lived off a curvy, dark road. Having just come home from the direction she should have taken, I felt pretty confident she was not stranded or in an accident. After calling a couple more of her friends, with no luck, I consulted my husband about what to do. He was very tired and pretty irritated at her for not coming straight home.
Then the phone rang, changing our lives forever. With some anxiety, I answered. On the other end was the kind of voice a parent with a missing child never wants to hear. It was full of fear and quivering so badly, the name 'mom' was drawn out like it suddenly had several syllables. In that moment my heart started racing, jumping to my throat, and my senses went on high alert. Something was terribly wrong with one of my babies! I could not make out anything else she was saying as she immediately went into hysterics; the sounds were muffled and disjointed. I kept telling her she had to stop crying and calm down so she could tell me where she was. It did not matter why she didn’t come straight home, I would get her, no questions asked. She just had to tell me where she was. Suddenly, mid-sob, the phone went dead. The terror that filled my soul right then was indescribable. I began looking for the phone number for the sheriff’s office so they could try to trace it. All I knew for sure was that I had to find my daughter right away! Before I could call the sheriff, however, our phone rang again. This time I did not know the voice on the other end. A lady gave me her name, but I had no idea who she was or why she would be calling me. She quickly assured me she was with my daughter. She told me she had had a car accident, but it appeared, other than a bump on the head she was okay. Could I please come over right away and get her? She gave me a county road number and her house number as well as her phone number. I had no idea how to find that road and she had no idea where my road was. I told her I would find it and be right there. I again called Adam’s house, this time demanding to speak to his mother. He did not want to let me speak to her. In exasperation and fear I yelled at him, telling him I knew she had been there, that I had just gotten a call that she had been in a wreck and was trying to find out where she might be. She was hurt and I had no idea how to figure out where she was. He had better let me talk to his mom right now if he knew what was good for him. He put his mother on immediately. Quickly explaining everything to her, I asked if my daughter had been at her house. I knew if I could determine where she had been traveling from, maybe I could figure out where to go to start looking for the county road. She confirmed my suspicions, and told me about the road that ran the 11 miles from her house through the back country to our blacktop road. I thanked her and yelled for my husband.
He jumped back into his clothes and we ran out the door. As we drove toward the direction of the gravel road, we watched carefully for any signs of the car or a house that had porch lights on. About two miles after turning onto a gravel road that we had never noticed before, we finally saw the car. My heart shuddered in absolute shock and horror. The sight I beheld is one I can still clearly in my mind, as if my brain took a snapshot of the awful scene. There, off the side of the concrete bridge that had no guard rails, was my car she often borrowed. It was turned upside down resting on its roof with its hood crumpled and embedded into a creek bank, its tail lights and blinker on, and its wheels still turning. I nearly lost it right then and there. All I could think was, where is she and how badly is she hurt? My husband kept telling me I had to stay calm so we could deal with whatever we found up the road. As we progressed up a long hill towards a house with the porch lights on, I knew we had found her. I leaped out of the car before it had fully stopped and ran toward the porch. It was a good thing there were a couple of small children standing at the door, holding it open for us, because when we stopped, I could hear my daughter’s screams and cries from many yards away. I got dead calm when I first saw her, lying on their kitchen floor with a large bath towel over her upper face. When I moved it away I realized she had split her face open all the way to the skull! She knew who I was and just kept hugging me and crying. She was not sure what had happened or where she was or even why she was there. She simply kept repeating how sorry she was. The woman who had called me told me she had been afraid to tell us on the phone how badly our daughter’s injuries were. She had some nursing training and had cleaned her up some and called the paramedics. After they arrived, they tried to push me away from her. Someone explained she needed medical attention urgently and there was great fear that she might have a neck injury. If I caused her to move, it could be life-threatening. She was fighting the paramedics so badly; they were finally forced to let me back down on the floor beside her to calm her down so they could start an IV and get a cervical collar on her, then move her onto a backboard.
Her boyfriend‘s mom, Sheryl, was suddenly there beside me. I could tell she had pieced together what the kids had tried to pull off and felt horrible. Together, she and I kept talking to her and telling her it was going to be okay. I was grateful for her help as they had called my husband away to talk to the Highway Patrol. He said they and the paramedics had a hundred questions. They decided to call a life-flight helicopter to airlift her to the hospital several miles away. I recall discussing where in the area was clear enough for them to land it. It was decided to drive her seven miles back to a grade school ball field by ambulance and transfer her to the helicopter there. There was concern expressed by the ambulance driver about how dangerous the road was. They kept my husband so busy, the next thing we knew they were whisking her by strapped to a stretcher. He only had time to kiss her chin as the rest of her face was now swathed in huge white gauze bandages. The police officer wanted to make sure we understood that the gravel road was like driving on marbles. He shared how he had almost lost control of his car on the same stretch our daughter must have just traveled. After he arrived, he had been told via radio that this was a freshly graded road. He told us that was probably a contributing factor to the accident. When he learned she had been coming from town, he was amazed she had made it as far as she had before having the accident. He wanted assurance my husband would drive very carefully and slowly until he was free of the miles of gravel. One wreck was enough for the night.
I rode in the ambulance with my daughter. As we neared the school, we learned the helicopter wouldn’t be able to get there for several more minutes. They elected to take her the rest of the 40-minute drive to the medical center on the road. However, about half-way there, she went really quiet and lethargic. They explained that usually indicated serious brain injury. They had called ahead to have a team of surgeons on site for her in case it was needed. The patrolman had already explained that since the car had gone air-born and flipped, it was mandatory she be taken to where they had a more advanced trauma center for just such a circumstance.
I had always thought being hurt in a wreck myself was the worst thing ever to be borne. But now I know—there is nothing worse than seeing your child laying there bleeding, not sure what quality of life she would have if she lived, and knowing you are powerless to help her. It is the most frustrating feeling in the world. All I could do was place her in God’s hands and trust somehow it would work out okay eventually. I kept praying all the way to the hospital. I felt calm assurance that despite the nightmarish quality of this night, somehow she would be okay.
When we arrived at the hospital they immediately rushed her into tests and would not let us see her for several hours. Sheryl and Adam arrived a short while later and they sat with us until we were all allowed to go back to see her.
When I next saw her lying pale and small and weak against those white sheets, I wanted to sob until I had no more tears left. In the space of a heartbeat, I noted that her beautiful face was now frighteningly swollen. Her eyes were already looking bruised and she could barely see through all the swelling. No one had completely cleaned her up yet and I could now see she had bled quite a bit more than I originally realized. Her clothes were lying on the floor and covered in blood. The overriding thought in my heart was that I just needed to hold her and never let her go! That is exactly what I did, until she seemed calm again and even began asking to go to the restroom. The physician told us she was unbelievably fortunate there were no broken bones or other internal injuries. Other than a concussion and the fact that she needed some plastic surgery on her eye and nose, she would be just fine.
We got permission to take her to the restroom down the hall. The guys wheeled her down on her gurney and then we made them leave the area. Sheryl and I then took her to the doorway of the restroom. What happened next surprised me. When we stood her up in front of the toilet she began sobbing uncontrollably again and would have crumpled to the floor if we didn’t have hold of her. She had caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. For a beautiful teenage girl, this had to be traumatic.
It took us quite a while to get her to calm down and realize it would get better, and that she would not be disfigured like that forever. I do not know if we got through to her or not, that night, but she did calm down some.
By the time the plastic surgeon got there, the gravity of the situation was still catching up with each of us. At one point, Adam passed out cold on the floor and had to be taken out. The doctors told me they had had to cut off her clothes and they would not be keeping her after she came out of surgery. So I needed to go get her something to wear. I left for Walmart to get her clothes. I remember feeling like I wanted to be ill. I really needed to get away from all this. I found this hospital unbearable because of my own experiences there and knowing they had my baby back there was almost more that I could handle and still remain calm. I think the nurse who suggested I go buy her clothes while they worked on her was probably inspired. By the time I got back, I felt more composed and much calmer. They didn't finish with her until six AM that next morning, but they finally let us take her home. The surgeon told us there would be scarring, but since she was so young it would lessen over the years. Later, she would probably need a couple of other cosmetic surgeries to help revise the scarring around her nose and eye. I remember thinking he surely did not have a teenage daughter, if he thought just living with a scar by her eye was something any girl would handle well for very long. I must have said something to that effect, because he explained she was lucky to have her eye as it was so near all the nerves. He told us a fraction either way and nerves would have been irreparably severed. That changed my outlook on the situation in a hurry. The 125+ stitches in my daughters face didn't seem so bad after all.
We took her home and put her to bed and worked to send the other children off the school. Our home was like a funeral parlor as her younger siblings tiptoed around and whispered in an effort to not disturb their sister that morning. For her part, she went straight to her room, in an effort to hide even from them. I realized she was tired and talking to her about how she was feeling emotionally would have to wait.
My phone began ringing off the hook about 8:45 that morning. I got a call from my mother, who had been contacted by the school principal. He said several kids had heard the local radio report that she had been critically injured and had been life-flighted to a major trauma center for advanced care and was listed in serious condition. He said he had kids believing her face had been smashed in and girls were crying, left and right. No school work was going to happen until he could find out how bad the situation was. Though I was exhausted, I called him, as well as my other children’s elementary school, to let them know how she was and that she was going to be okay.
I later learned they announced she was going to be okay and was now home over the intercom system at both schools so the kids would calm down. I had no idea my daughter was so well-known and cared about in this community. I guess I should have, as she was a class leader and not just a cheerleader, but a flyer, which is the one standing on someone’s shoulders at the top of their pyramids. I was amazed at the outpouring of kindness from kids and parents alike.
That afternoon, I got a phone call from her best friend. I told her I really thought it would be a good idea if she and a just a few close friends wanted to come over and visit her. I did my best to prepare them for how she now looked. I really felt it was best not to let my daughter wallow in self-pity, hiding from the world any longer than necessary. She seemed very resistant to this idea. But my husband and I had prayed about it and felt it the best course of action. Later, the shock on those little girls’ faces almost made me think I had made a mistake. However, they were real troupers, hiding any shock or repulsion they may have felt from my daughter. I witnessed more teenage tears that weekend than in any time before or since. But never in front of my daughter who refused to leave her room. I was just grateful she was alive and home. They did their best to cheer her up over the next couple of days.
That next week was the state championship playoffs. Our daughter was sad she couldn't cheer, but much of the time she seemed to not even want to go out in public where she could be seen. The love and persistent support was instrumental in keeping her from hiding from what she saw every time she looked in the mirror. The kids coming in and out of my house like a revolving door convinced her to come back to school for the pep rallies where all the players and cheerleaders would go to all three elementary schools and present an assembly to prepare for the weekend’s state Final Four championship games. Normally, the high school administration would not allow her to attend, as she had been absent from school. But they decided her attendance would be a good thing. As they were still dealing with children upset about hearing the radio reports. Additionally, since she had been an exemplary student, they waived the policy.
I went with her to the high school and to the elementary where she had attended until her eighth-grade graduation. The reception she got was enough to make many of us cry. The kids were so welcoming and accepting of her still disfigured face. She tried to hover near the edges and hide behind the group. But it seemed her peers were not going to allow that to continue, because at this grade school, the entire student body gave her a standing ovation to show her their support. It was amazing! I think many were impressed by her courage to come and be there to support her school just days after she almost died.
We had a few bumps along the road to recovery following that accident. When my adopted dad, who owned a towing business, went to get the car, he was stunned. It was wedged into the mud so tightly that neither door could be opened more than six inches wide. Even though the door window was busted out there was no way she could have gotten out of it without digging through the mud. They assured me they had looked for signs of digging, but there were none. There was blood on the outside of one of the doors, but they never figured out how she got through that six inch opening. The rest of the glass in the car was still intact. No one on the Highway Patrol has been able to figure out how she got out of that car in the dark. The doctor told us, with a concussion like she had, they were surprised she was able to think clearly enough to get to a house and find help. When we went back in the daylight we were stunned to see water in the creek below her car and realize that there were no other houses in sight on that stretch of road. With the trees as thick as they were, the fact that she did not hit a tree was amazing. There was no way she could see the house from the creek in the dark. We couldn’t figure out for a long time how she got the cut on her face either. Finally, we decided it must have been caused by the edge of the rear-view mirror because she remembers not putting the shoulder strap part of the seat belt on. The other strange thing was that there was no blood at all inside the car and certainly none on the mirror. In fact, the mirror did not even look like it had been moved from its usual position. It was all very odd.
The next few weeks and months were interesting, as she had forgotten all she had learned in school during the two weeks leading up to the accident and had to repeat those assignments. After a few months, she seemed to fully recover except for needing a bit of additional surgery to fix her nose and having to wear a silicone strip at night for several months to help revise her scar. But even the fact that she did not need additional plastic surgery was miraculous. Her personality was changed for quite a while and she was a cautious driver from then on. But she did make a full recovery, and by the next fall she was her old self, laughing and cheering just as she had before.
We cannot help but feel her guardian angel pulled off a great many miracles on that fateful night so our beautiful daughter could stay on this earth. We felt she must have had quite a mission yet to perform. In the ensuing years this certainly proved to have been the case.
She has volunteered countless hours with at-risk inner city youth, even driving across country to attend a graduation for any of them who went on to attend college and got so much as their associate degree. She is also currently fostering a teen she has reached out to since he was a small boy in that same program. We have seen her, together with her husband, have a tremendous positive impact on that young man, as well as many of the other kids she worked with. We have seen her serve numerous mini-mission trips to Haitian and Mexican orphanages, often working for months on end to fund the mission herself while attending college. She still serves in her local city as a coordinator for a school literacy volunteer program as well as serving in her church.
She went from being a self-absorbed teenager to a compassionate young woman that night. She has used her experiences to show other teenagers, that it is not all about how you look on the outside, but what your heart is like on the inside. She wrote the above in hopes of convincing her classmates to slow down and buckle up on our dangerous country roads and remind them that they are not immortal—that bad things can happen in the blink of an eye.
She even went so far as to buy flowers and new towels for the family who opened their door to her that night. When she delivered her gifts, she learned they had a little toddler with a serious heart condition facing surgery in the very near future. Without being prompted, she motivated our family and as many of her peers as she could to fast and pray for his successful surgery and return to health.
This is being submitted with our name withheld, as my daughter tends to feel embarrassed when people point out what a tremendous person she is. But the fact that her life was spared that dark March night has not been wasted on her; she has grown into a truly amazing woman, wife, mother, talented photographer, and contributing member of society. I consider myself blessed to have been to be her mother.
One evening in mid-March, 1999, our oldest daughter, a beautiful, independent, teenage girl, saw her life change dramatically in the blink of an eye from just a couple of small, poor choices.
She worked at a local fast food restaurant part-time and was asked to work an extra shift. We had planned to attend our younger children’s school Spring recital that particular evening. We knew this would be a boring event for a high-schooler and gave her permission to work instead of going with the rest of our family. When we arrived home at eight PM and found the house dark, we were a bit alarmed that she was not home. My husband began putting the other children to bed so he could sleep for a few hours before he left for the overnight shift he had just been called in for.
I called my daughter’s work and they told me she left about an hour earlier. I became increasingly alarmed as it only took about 15-20 minutes to get to our home located in a very rural area. My husband suggested I call her boyfriend’s home and see if they had heard from her, even though she knew going over there without permission was against the rules, he had a feeling that was what she had done.
When I called their home, he answered and insisted she was not there. I had a feeling that was not the truth but chose to keep calling around to her other friends in an attempt to find her. We lived off a curvy, dark road. Having just come home from the direction she should have taken, I felt pretty confident she was not stranded or in an accident. After calling a couple more of her friends, with no luck, I consulted my husband about what to do. He was very tired and pretty irritated at her for not coming straight home.
Then the phone rang, changing our lives forever. With some anxiety, I answered. On the other end was the kind of voice a parent with a missing child never wants to hear. It was full of fear and quivering so badly, the name 'mom' was drawn out like it suddenly had several syllables. In that moment my heart started racing, jumping to my throat, and my senses went on high alert. Something was terribly wrong with one of my babies! I could not make out anything else she was saying as she immediately went into hysterics; the sounds were muffled and disjointed. I kept telling her she had to stop crying and calm down so she could tell me where she was. It did not matter why she didn’t come straight home, I would get her, no questions asked. She just had to tell me where she was. Suddenly, mid-sob, the phone went dead. The terror that filled my soul right then was indescribable. I began looking for the phone number for the sheriff’s office so they could try to trace it. All I knew for sure was that I had to find my daughter right away! Before I could call the sheriff, however, our phone rang again. This time I did not know the voice on the other end. A lady gave me her name, but I had no idea who she was or why she would be calling me. She quickly assured me she was with my daughter. She told me she had had a car accident, but it appeared, other than a bump on the head she was okay. Could I please come over right away and get her? She gave me a county road number and her house number as well as her phone number. I had no idea how to find that road and she had no idea where my road was. I told her I would find it and be right there. I again called Adam’s house, this time demanding to speak to his mother. He did not want to let me speak to her. In exasperation and fear I yelled at him, telling him I knew she had been there, that I had just gotten a call that she had been in a wreck and was trying to find out where she might be. She was hurt and I had no idea how to figure out where she was. He had better let me talk to his mom right now if he knew what was good for him. He put his mother on immediately. Quickly explaining everything to her, I asked if my daughter had been at her house. I knew if I could determine where she had been traveling from, maybe I could figure out where to go to start looking for the county road. She confirmed my suspicions, and told me about the road that ran the 11 miles from her house through the back country to our blacktop road. I thanked her and yelled for my husband.
He jumped back into his clothes and we ran out the door. As we drove toward the direction of the gravel road, we watched carefully for any signs of the car or a house that had porch lights on. About two miles after turning onto a gravel road that we had never noticed before, we finally saw the car. My heart shuddered in absolute shock and horror. The sight I beheld is one I can still clearly in my mind, as if my brain took a snapshot of the awful scene. There, off the side of the concrete bridge that had no guard rails, was my car she often borrowed. It was turned upside down resting on its roof with its hood crumpled and embedded into a creek bank, its tail lights and blinker on, and its wheels still turning. I nearly lost it right then and there. All I could think was, where is she and how badly is she hurt? My husband kept telling me I had to stay calm so we could deal with whatever we found up the road. As we progressed up a long hill towards a house with the porch lights on, I knew we had found her. I leaped out of the car before it had fully stopped and ran toward the porch. It was a good thing there were a couple of small children standing at the door, holding it open for us, because when we stopped, I could hear my daughter’s screams and cries from many yards away. I got dead calm when I first saw her, lying on their kitchen floor with a large bath towel over her upper face. When I moved it away I realized she had split her face open all the way to the skull! She knew who I was and just kept hugging me and crying. She was not sure what had happened or where she was or even why she was there. She simply kept repeating how sorry she was. The woman who had called me told me she had been afraid to tell us on the phone how badly our daughter’s injuries were. She had some nursing training and had cleaned her up some and called the paramedics. After they arrived, they tried to push me away from her. Someone explained she needed medical attention urgently and there was great fear that she might have a neck injury. If I caused her to move, it could be life-threatening. She was fighting the paramedics so badly; they were finally forced to let me back down on the floor beside her to calm her down so they could start an IV and get a cervical collar on her, then move her onto a backboard.
Her boyfriend‘s mom, Sheryl, was suddenly there beside me. I could tell she had pieced together what the kids had tried to pull off and felt horrible. Together, she and I kept talking to her and telling her it was going to be okay. I was grateful for her help as they had called my husband away to talk to the Highway Patrol. He said they and the paramedics had a hundred questions. They decided to call a life-flight helicopter to airlift her to the hospital several miles away. I recall discussing where in the area was clear enough for them to land it. It was decided to drive her seven miles back to a grade school ball field by ambulance and transfer her to the helicopter there. There was concern expressed by the ambulance driver about how dangerous the road was. They kept my husband so busy, the next thing we knew they were whisking her by strapped to a stretcher. He only had time to kiss her chin as the rest of her face was now swathed in huge white gauze bandages. The police officer wanted to make sure we understood that the gravel road was like driving on marbles. He shared how he had almost lost control of his car on the same stretch our daughter must have just traveled. After he arrived, he had been told via radio that this was a freshly graded road. He told us that was probably a contributing factor to the accident. When he learned she had been coming from town, he was amazed she had made it as far as she had before having the accident. He wanted assurance my husband would drive very carefully and slowly until he was free of the miles of gravel. One wreck was enough for the night.
I rode in the ambulance with my daughter. As we neared the school, we learned the helicopter wouldn’t be able to get there for several more minutes. They elected to take her the rest of the 40-minute drive to the medical center on the road. However, about half-way there, she went really quiet and lethargic. They explained that usually indicated serious brain injury. They had called ahead to have a team of surgeons on site for her in case it was needed. The patrolman had already explained that since the car had gone air-born and flipped, it was mandatory she be taken to where they had a more advanced trauma center for just such a circumstance.
I had always thought being hurt in a wreck myself was the worst thing ever to be borne. But now I know—there is nothing worse than seeing your child laying there bleeding, not sure what quality of life she would have if she lived, and knowing you are powerless to help her. It is the most frustrating feeling in the world. All I could do was place her in God’s hands and trust somehow it would work out okay eventually. I kept praying all the way to the hospital. I felt calm assurance that despite the nightmarish quality of this night, somehow she would be okay.
When we arrived at the hospital they immediately rushed her into tests and would not let us see her for several hours. Sheryl and Adam arrived a short while later and they sat with us until we were all allowed to go back to see her.
When I next saw her lying pale and small and weak against those white sheets, I wanted to sob until I had no more tears left. In the space of a heartbeat, I noted that her beautiful face was now frighteningly swollen. Her eyes were already looking bruised and she could barely see through all the swelling. No one had completely cleaned her up yet and I could now see she had bled quite a bit more than I originally realized. Her clothes were lying on the floor and covered in blood. The overriding thought in my heart was that I just needed to hold her and never let her go! That is exactly what I did, until she seemed calm again and even began asking to go to the restroom. The physician told us she was unbelievably fortunate there were no broken bones or other internal injuries. Other than a concussion and the fact that she needed some plastic surgery on her eye and nose, she would be just fine.
We got permission to take her to the restroom down the hall. The guys wheeled her down on her gurney and then we made them leave the area. Sheryl and I then took her to the doorway of the restroom. What happened next surprised me. When we stood her up in front of the toilet she began sobbing uncontrollably again and would have crumpled to the floor if we didn’t have hold of her. She had caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. For a beautiful teenage girl, this had to be traumatic.
It took us quite a while to get her to calm down and realize it would get better, and that she would not be disfigured like that forever. I do not know if we got through to her or not, that night, but she did calm down some.
By the time the plastic surgeon got there, the gravity of the situation was still catching up with each of us. At one point, Adam passed out cold on the floor and had to be taken out. The doctors told me they had had to cut off her clothes and they would not be keeping her after she came out of surgery. So I needed to go get her something to wear. I left for Walmart to get her clothes. I remember feeling like I wanted to be ill. I really needed to get away from all this. I found this hospital unbearable because of my own experiences there and knowing they had my baby back there was almost more that I could handle and still remain calm. I think the nurse who suggested I go buy her clothes while they worked on her was probably inspired. By the time I got back, I felt more composed and much calmer. They didn't finish with her until six AM that next morning, but they finally let us take her home. The surgeon told us there would be scarring, but since she was so young it would lessen over the years. Later, she would probably need a couple of other cosmetic surgeries to help revise the scarring around her nose and eye. I remember thinking he surely did not have a teenage daughter, if he thought just living with a scar by her eye was something any girl would handle well for very long. I must have said something to that effect, because he explained she was lucky to have her eye as it was so near all the nerves. He told us a fraction either way and nerves would have been irreparably severed. That changed my outlook on the situation in a hurry. The 125+ stitches in my daughters face didn't seem so bad after all.
We took her home and put her to bed and worked to send the other children off the school. Our home was like a funeral parlor as her younger siblings tiptoed around and whispered in an effort to not disturb their sister that morning. For her part, she went straight to her room, in an effort to hide even from them. I realized she was tired and talking to her about how she was feeling emotionally would have to wait.
My phone began ringing off the hook about 8:45 that morning. I got a call from my mother, who had been contacted by the school principal. He said several kids had heard the local radio report that she had been critically injured and had been life-flighted to a major trauma center for advanced care and was listed in serious condition. He said he had kids believing her face had been smashed in and girls were crying, left and right. No school work was going to happen until he could find out how bad the situation was. Though I was exhausted, I called him, as well as my other children’s elementary school, to let them know how she was and that she was going to be okay.
I later learned they announced she was going to be okay and was now home over the intercom system at both schools so the kids would calm down. I had no idea my daughter was so well-known and cared about in this community. I guess I should have, as she was a class leader and not just a cheerleader, but a flyer, which is the one standing on someone’s shoulders at the top of their pyramids. I was amazed at the outpouring of kindness from kids and parents alike.
That afternoon, I got a phone call from her best friend. I told her I really thought it would be a good idea if she and a just a few close friends wanted to come over and visit her. I did my best to prepare them for how she now looked. I really felt it was best not to let my daughter wallow in self-pity, hiding from the world any longer than necessary. She seemed very resistant to this idea. But my husband and I had prayed about it and felt it the best course of action. Later, the shock on those little girls’ faces almost made me think I had made a mistake. However, they were real troupers, hiding any shock or repulsion they may have felt from my daughter. I witnessed more teenage tears that weekend than in any time before or since. But never in front of my daughter who refused to leave her room. I was just grateful she was alive and home. They did their best to cheer her up over the next couple of days.
That next week was the state championship playoffs. Our daughter was sad she couldn't cheer, but much of the time she seemed to not even want to go out in public where she could be seen. The love and persistent support was instrumental in keeping her from hiding from what she saw every time she looked in the mirror. The kids coming in and out of my house like a revolving door convinced her to come back to school for the pep rallies where all the players and cheerleaders would go to all three elementary schools and present an assembly to prepare for the weekend’s state Final Four championship games. Normally, the high school administration would not allow her to attend, as she had been absent from school. But they decided her attendance would be a good thing. As they were still dealing with children upset about hearing the radio reports. Additionally, since she had been an exemplary student, they waived the policy.
I went with her to the high school and to the elementary where she had attended until her eighth-grade graduation. The reception she got was enough to make many of us cry. The kids were so welcoming and accepting of her still disfigured face. She tried to hover near the edges and hide behind the group. But it seemed her peers were not going to allow that to continue, because at this grade school, the entire student body gave her a standing ovation to show her their support. It was amazing! I think many were impressed by her courage to come and be there to support her school just days after she almost died.
We had a few bumps along the road to recovery following that accident. When my adopted dad, who owned a towing business, went to get the car, he was stunned. It was wedged into the mud so tightly that neither door could be opened more than six inches wide. Even though the door window was busted out there was no way she could have gotten out of it without digging through the mud. They assured me they had looked for signs of digging, but there were none. There was blood on the outside of one of the doors, but they never figured out how she got through that six inch opening. The rest of the glass in the car was still intact. No one on the Highway Patrol has been able to figure out how she got out of that car in the dark. The doctor told us, with a concussion like she had, they were surprised she was able to think clearly enough to get to a house and find help. When we went back in the daylight we were stunned to see water in the creek below her car and realize that there were no other houses in sight on that stretch of road. With the trees as thick as they were, the fact that she did not hit a tree was amazing. There was no way she could see the house from the creek in the dark. We couldn’t figure out for a long time how she got the cut on her face either. Finally, we decided it must have been caused by the edge of the rear-view mirror because she remembers not putting the shoulder strap part of the seat belt on. The other strange thing was that there was no blood at all inside the car and certainly none on the mirror. In fact, the mirror did not even look like it had been moved from its usual position. It was all very odd.
The next few weeks and months were interesting, as she had forgotten all she had learned in school during the two weeks leading up to the accident and had to repeat those assignments. After a few months, she seemed to fully recover except for needing a bit of additional surgery to fix her nose and having to wear a silicone strip at night for several months to help revise her scar. But even the fact that she did not need additional plastic surgery was miraculous. Her personality was changed for quite a while and she was a cautious driver from then on. But she did make a full recovery, and by the next fall she was her old self, laughing and cheering just as she had before.
We cannot help but feel her guardian angel pulled off a great many miracles on that fateful night so our beautiful daughter could stay on this earth. We felt she must have had quite a mission yet to perform. In the ensuing years this certainly proved to have been the case.
She has volunteered countless hours with at-risk inner city youth, even driving across country to attend a graduation for any of them who went on to attend college and got so much as their associate degree. She is also currently fostering a teen she has reached out to since he was a small boy in that same program. We have seen her, together with her husband, have a tremendous positive impact on that young man, as well as many of the other kids she worked with. We have seen her serve numerous mini-mission trips to Haitian and Mexican orphanages, often working for months on end to fund the mission herself while attending college. She still serves in her local city as a coordinator for a school literacy volunteer program as well as serving in her church.
She went from being a self-absorbed teenager to a compassionate young woman that night. She has used her experiences to show other teenagers, that it is not all about how you look on the outside, but what your heart is like on the inside. She wrote the above in hopes of convincing her classmates to slow down and buckle up on our dangerous country roads and remind them that they are not immortal—that bad things can happen in the blink of an eye.
She even went so far as to buy flowers and new towels for the family who opened their door to her that night. When she delivered her gifts, she learned they had a little toddler with a serious heart condition facing surgery in the very near future. Without being prompted, she motivated our family and as many of her peers as she could to fast and pray for his successful surgery and return to health.
This is being submitted with our name withheld, as my daughter tends to feel embarrassed when people point out what a tremendous person she is. But the fact that her life was spared that dark March night has not been wasted on her; she has grown into a truly amazing woman, wife, mother, talented photographer, and contributing member of society. I consider myself blessed to have been to be her mother.
Copyright © 2014 by Rent's Due Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.