Looking Back to Move Forward – Part IV

*Warning: This particular part of my story contains information that maybe disturbing to some. I'm a “tell it like it is” type of person/personality and plan to describe, in full, the details that live in my head of my survival of a near fatal car accident. In doing this, I hope to relieve my mind of this nightmare that is my past and hope some greater good will come to someone as a result.

Missed Part I, Part II or Part III?

Click on the part you missed to catch yourself up.

Survival

The sirens came! Oh did they ever come!

It was the most joyous sound that I have ever heard – the whirling of sirens in the distance getting closer every second. The sound was like a chorus of Angels singing. I know. Cheesy. But it truly was! It was the sweetest sound of relief in contrast to the feeling of being buried alive in this cramped, dirt-filled car. I worried though. I knew the emergency crews were rushing to save us and I worried that they would crash too. I worried that they would crash into us. Hypersensitivity to car accidents kicked in early and has never left me since. Calm. Stay calm. They know what they're doing. They have done this before. Breathe. Breathe.

As the sound got closer, it pierced my ears. It was too loud now. No more Angels! It ignited the ringing of the post again. It's possible the sounds knocked me in and out of blackness again. I tried to stay calm and just breathe. Breathe.

The dirt had settled quite a bit inside the car but I was still spitting out dirt. I couldn't get it all out. I couldn't feel everything or utilize my mouth properly. This scared me, so I stopped. Stay calm. Just breathe. Any action or thought that scared me, I had to put it aside and focus on being calm. Breathe. Breathe.

It was getting harder to breath though and as happy as I was to hear the sirens, I was losing my focus on staying calm - knowing that help was in arms reach. I HAD to stay calm though. Our air felt limited between the amount of dirt in the car and the enclosed space that we were in. Breathe in the little air. There's no other choice. Breathe. Breathe.

Every now and then I tried to look around. I couldn't see much. Light in the distance but darkness surrounding me. My brother's face was the most visible in my flashes of sight. He was trying SO hard to keep us both calm but he looked like he was in pain too. His eyes were alert but his face seemed pale. With each passing minute, we were struggling more and more. Breathe. Breathe.

Given the injuries that I had, I don't remember feeling too much pain. My body was helping me. I'm grateful I couldn't feel the pain of all the injuries I endured. I was VERY uncomfortable though but I had to look past that. My brother had to look past it as well and as much as he was coaching me to hang on, I'm sure he was coaching himself at the same time.

My brother played the “big brother” role very well this day. He was 18 yrs. old. He took care of me in this traumatic situation the best that he knew how. Stay calm Daisy. Breathe. Breathe.

He spoke for us when emergency crews finally reached our vehicle. He told them our conditions but focused on how difficult it was to breathe. He said everything that I could not. Even though there was relief from having the emergency crews so close, my brother knew that each passing minute was critical and he wanted me out. I have no doubt that he wanted out too but he could see the blood and he wanted me out even more. The worry in his voice was growing. Breathe. Breathe.

I think it was at this moment that the crew member suggested sending in oxygen. My brother and I lit up at the thought. We needed it. We needed it very bad. Stay calm though. It's not here yet. Breathe. Breathe.

Getting out took time. Emergency crews buzzed about the car. I was losing my ability to focus. There was so much talking – even shouting of commands. It was too much to take in. I was losing my ability to process all the information that was surrounding me. 

My brother. Just focus on him. I believe my brother was told that it would take some time to get us out but they were doing everything they could. They tried to speak confidently. They tried SO hard but I heard worry in their heroic voices as they looked in. Calm. Stay calm. 

I wondered why they couldn't just open the darn door and get us out! I was confused. I must have passed in and out of consciousness at this time as I don't remember this stage taking as long as it actually took. Breathe. Breathe. 

Their voices sounded strong. Much stronger than I felt. Even though there was worry hidden in their voices, their voices were re-assuring as they had strength on their side. Their bodies weren't broken like mine. They had physical strength. They also knew that help was right here. They had the people power and the tools. They had the training and the knowledge. This was the source of reassurance in their voices. I knew that all they needed me to do was to do my part and just breathe. Breathe. Stay calm. Breathe. Breathe.

I opened my eyes to a glorious sight. An oxygen mask! My brother put it on immediately and breathed in the sweet air of life. This was survival. I didn't hold back my desire for air. I wanted that mask and let my brother know with all the garble and hand signals that I could muster. I wasn't at all worried about him as I knew they would probably get another one. A crew member was on my brother's side of the car, staying right beside him and assessing, talking and assisting. I don't remember much of what was said, it's a jumbled memory, I was fully focused on breathing. With air within my reach, I was focused on getting that mask and I let my brother know it! Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe!!

My poor brother. He needed that air too but he passed the mask over to me – a little annoyed – it may have even been a bit of a “throw” to me but I didn't care. I needed that air. I needed to breathe. I needed air!! I picked up that mask and breathed in the cool, sweet air. BREATHE!!!!! Ahhh! BREATHE!!!!! Ahhh! BREATHE!!!! Ahh! BREATHE!!!! Ahhhh!! Relief!! I took that mask and I let it cool my face but I never let it wander too far from my mouth and nose. BREATHE!!!! Ahh! BREATHE!!!! Ahh! BREATHE!!!! Ahh!

I don't even remember my brother receiving another mask. I'm sure he must have. I was too busy BREATHING!!! Ahhh! BREATHE!! BREATHE!! BREATHE!! The power of breathing only reveals itself when one begins to lose it. BREATHE!!! BREATHE!! BREATHE!!

I overheard that they needed to cut the door open to rescue us. I worried again. Cutting sounded invasive. I was getting very protective of my cradled body. Cutting a car sounded like it was going to hurt. Not the car. Me! I didn't want the car to be jostled around. I knew it would hurt me. Oxygen. BREATHE! BREATHE!

Miraculously, I don't recall feeling a thing. Before I knew it, my brother was being moved and they were coming for me.

I'm a nice girl. I like to be helpful, so, when they reached for me, I wanted to help them to pull me out. I was now on my belly and planned to use my hands to pull me forward, out of the car. My hands were secured on the flooring but as I tried to push my body forward,

< PAIN >

stabbed my upper back. OK! There's something wrong with my back. Another injury to add to my list. Tongue, teeth, something on my face and now back. OK. I can handle this...is what I tried to convince myself. There was really, no time to even think of what I could or couldn't handle as I was being rescued. I was being pulled out of that car. Emergency crews were doing for me what I couldn't do for myself.

I tried to apologize to them and tell them about my pain. They couldn't understand. Being in the open air, the open light! It felt so wonderful!! Kind of. Perfectly orchestrated, they turned my body over onto a flat, hard board.

1-2-3!

< PAIN >

I hadn't even been out of that cramped car for 30 seconds and I was ready to go back in. That board was a whole new level of discomfort and the light of day was blinding to my eyes. I tried to keep them closed.

Everything was happening SO fast around me. I tried to be helpful and talk to them, they were too busy talking with each other to listen to gibberish-sounding me. I was embarrassed. I felt ashamed. They were doing all of this work because of a stupid decision. They were all here because of a stupid decision. They were trying to save my life because of a stupid decision and I was connected to that stupid decision. I was SO embarrassed to be there, beside that car, bloodied face, crying in pain and unable to speak. This couldn't get worse.

< Snip, Snip >

What? What the? Whaaaaaa? It got worse!!! It got WAY worse!!!

THEY BEGAN TO CUT MY TOP OFF!!!!!!!

Was I wearing one of my good bras?!? Was I even WEARING a bra?!? I tried not to worry about it but I was a sixteen year old virgin! I WAS WORRIED ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!! I'm the only person who has ever seen me naked in the privacy of my own room. Not my Mother, certainly not my Father or brothers, I had no sisters and not my friends. Well, girls-camp has come pretty close during some, ahem, adventurous swimming activities but THIS WAS NOT GIRLS-CAMP! These were grown men and thankfully, I think I heard the voice of a women.

Stop. I had to stop worrying about this. The rescue crew were obviously NOT worried about my freshly exposed chest and thankfully, they kept my jeans on. They were VERY focused. I have NO clue what they were doing but actually, I started to feel pretty good in the exposed, cool air compared to the hot, cramped car. If it wasn't for all the back pain, not being able to see or talk, I would think I was some kind of Goddess being catered to. Obviously, the oxygen had done some good to me and I had a little too much brain power to worry about things that I didn't need to worry about.

Straps were attached. I felt secure on this horrifyingly, uncomfortablely flat board. They were ready to transfer me, giving each other commands. I felt fairly calm. I had air, I had heroes but they didn't sound calm. There was panic in their voices. They wanted me out of there as fast and as safe as possible. I was in full support of their mission but I had a new worry.

They had to lift me. I was dead weight and I knew that I was no light weight. I had a solid polynesian build and I felt very self-conscious of them lifting me. Once again, I believe that I was more worried than they were, but I'm sixteen years old. I'm worried about them lifting me.

1 – 2 – 3!

Up I went. I felt secure in my straps but I also felt every single movement in my body. The pain was getting old. The worry was getting old. Next, I worried about them dropping me as apparently they needed to maneuver up a bit of a hill to reach the ambulance. This journey sucked. Being rescued in the movies looked A LOT smoother than what I was experiencing at this moment. It felt like obstacle after obstacle was in my way of getting to the next step. Patience. Patience.

I must've blacked out again as I was now in the ambulance. I've NEVER been in an ambulance before! I was captivated! I tried to look around so that I could SEE what it looked like inside but I had difficulty seeing. I felt relief from the light of the day but I still was unable to see very much.

I believe it was a women that was riding with me. She was busy getting everything ready. I tried to talk to her. I wanted to be helpful!! She finally gave into my interest in communicating and asked me how old I was.

She asked,

“Are you 21?”

WOW!!!! My breasts must've looked better than I thought! And I must've been wearing my GOOD bra! I tried to tell the attendant that I was 16. It took a few tries but she understood me! For a moment, I was happy!!

The attendant was busy. The driver was ready and she called to the driver to avoid all speed limits. I thought three things,

1. Don't they ALWAYS avoid all speed limits?
2. There was an urgency in her voice. Why?
3. We just crashed on this road. I hope the driver is careful!!

I looked forward to the ride to the hospital. I knew the way there and planned to point out where I live and give them my Dad's information so that they could tell him to meet us there.

They turned on the siren.

< PAIN >

A siren is even louder from the inside of an ambulance.

I don't think my body could handle all of this very well because that was the last thing I remembered about my very first ambulance ride.

When Anna Nalick came out with this song, I burst into tears. She perfectly described the breathing that helped to save my life this day. Like her, I feel naked sharing my story, but it feels like the right time and place. It's also SO true when she says, you can't 'jump the track' and though I craved for a rewind button this day, there was none. Breathe. Just Breathe.

Looking Back to Move Forward - Part III

*Warning: This particular part of my story contains information that maybe disturbing to some. I'm a “tell it like it is” type of person/personality and plan to describe, in full, the details that live in my head of my survival of a near fatal car accident. In doing this, I hope to relieve my mind of this nightmare that is my past and hope some greater good will come to someone as a result.

Missed Part I or Part II?

Click on the part you missed to catch yourself up.

Hope

I recall that life had not yet taken to the earth or trees on this particular Spring day. Having said that, it was a fine day. There were grey April clouds covering the sky but the sun still made a brief appearance from time to time. The next thirty seconds of our drive is the last I would see of the beginnings of Spring.

There's a stop sign where I had assumed our friend would take his last opportunity to turn right and take us back to school. He stopped but never turned. This confused me as the road ahead was not a paved road, it was a country road. I was unsure where we would be going on this old, gravel road that didn't take us anywhere near our school.

All confusion cleared the second the tires hit the gravel road as this is when our friend hit the gas pedal. We accelerated SO quickly that it literally took my breath away for a moment. The first dip in the road proved to provide the roller-coaster exciting feeling and I finally realized why we were here. With that stomach-jumping feeling of fun, I even smiled freely but I'm a sensible girl. I knew what was ahead. First of all, there was a car coming the other direction and as it passed us, my immediate thought was,

“I wonder if they know how fast we're going?”.

That lead to me thinking,

“How fast ARE we going?”.

I tried to look at the speedometer. I don't recall what speed I had read but saw the needle making it's way far to the right of the speedometer. Everything was happening too quickly for my comfort now. I began to worry as this ride was clearly not over. No words were being said. Just the feeling of speed. I wasn't smiling anymore.

I knew this road and what was ahead of us. My Father would take us to this road as a shortcut to another major highway. Every time we drove it, my Mother worried at the the top of a very steep hill that lay ahead on the road we were speeding on. She had every right to worry. When you're at the top of that hill, it's the kind of hill that you can't see the bottom of until you proceed down. In my Dad's van, I always worried too. However, my Dad ALWAYS took that hill with slow precaution. I believe he did it as a loving Father but I also believe he did it as a loving husband.

I knew we weren't proceeding with caution on this road but everything was happening SO fast that before I could say anything, it was too late.

This is where everything switches from going at lightening speed to slow motion.

We made it to the top of the scary hill. This is where it felt like the car swerved and then it began to veer off to the left. We crossed the road and I had immediate gratitude that there were no oncoming cars.

My thoughts proceeded as follows:

“Crap! We're going to crash.”

“Perhaps we'll just drive into a field until the car just stops.”

< BANG! >

We hit a post on my brother's, the passenger, side of the car. I had one last thought,

“My poor brother.”

after which, my eyes closed.

When my eyes opened again, everything felt like a really bad dream. Did this really happen to me? The incredible sound from hitting that post still rang in my ears and head, which confirmed that I was living this nightmare. I've heard guns go off and cannons fire since my accident. Nothing quite compares to the “bang” of hitting that post. That sound rang in my mind for years. Twenty-one years later, I can finally say that the sound of hitting that post has faded. 

It hurt to open my eyes. I preferred to keep them closed than to open them but I wanted SO badly to orient myself. I was in a VERY uncomfortable position. A curled up position. The “fetal position” best describes how I felt. Dirt filled the little air I had. I felt very enclosed. 

PAIN!! Across my body. The seat-belt. I was "hanging". It needed to come off. I needed it off!! I couldn't get it off. I couldn't see! Touch was not registering as I tried to feel around. I couldn’t speak! Why couldn't I speak?! I needed my seat-belt off. I wanted to cut it off! My brother. Somehow he was lying beside me. He noticed what I was doing. He was able to reach somewhere and release the seat-belt. I “fell” slightly.

Ahhhhh! Better. Kind of.

I was now scared. I tried to understand what my injuries were. I couldn't speak. When I tried, it sounded like garbled speech. Imagine your tongue is frozen from the dentist and you can't move your mouth. You try to speak but everything jumbles up. Just sounds come out. My brother couldn't understand what I was saying. It was frustrating. I tried to feel my tongue at the top of my mouth. I couldn't feel anything. That scared me. I stopped doing that. Obviously, something was wrong with my tongue.

I also began spitting out teeth and I could taste blood. OK! I can handle this! I'll have a few less teeth when I'm out of this car. I can handle that! What I wasn't handling very well was the heat that I felt on my face, the difficulty I was having with breathing and the inability to see, talk or feel. It all began to scare me. There was also the smell of gasoline in the air. I didn't like it. It was a heavy smell that took up precious air and the thought did cross my mind of the dangerous risk of the car exploding. However, I figured if it was going to explode, it probably would've exploded by now. I had to stop thinking scary thoughts. I made a decision right there and then to stay calm. I needed to stay calm. There was no squirming out of this mess. I tried! I had no strength. I was completely helpless. 'Stay calm' kept entering my thoughts.

Outside I could hear our friend. I wasn't awake yet when he managed to get out of the car but he was out now and crying. He was VERY upset. I don't remember everything he said but I clearly remember him crying,

“My parents are going to KILL me!!”

I rolled my eyes. That felt like the worst, cliche expression that someone could ever say in this moment. I couldn't believe it! I was embarrassed! I was there stuck in this car and he was thinking about what his parents were going to think. Looking back, he was sixteen years old. That should explain most everything.

Our friend did one honourable thing that day. There was a moment he came back to the car and I heard him offer a prayer for us. I don't remember the things he said. I heard a lot of fear in his voice. He obviously could see what I could not. But the simple act of praying and pleading with our Heavenly Father has stayed with me forever. As you can imagine, he was far from being a great orator. Again, I don't remember any of his words but the fact that he prayed for us, beside the car so that we could hear, has stayed with me ever since.

There was another voice that came into the car asking if we were ok. My brother answered for us. He told the man that he couldn't move but he was ok for now. He then told the man that his sister was not ok and he was concerned. He also told the man that I had blood all over my face. I was shocked! I didn't know. The man said that help was on it's way and suggested to my brother to keep talking to me.

Confusion grew. What was wrong with me? Should I be worried? Death only slightly crossed my mind but I pushed it aside completely. I may have been in bad shape but death certainly didn't feel like I felt that day. I felt hope! I felt peace! I just couldn't express it. 

Waiting is not fun at the best of times but when you're in trauma, waiting is torture. My mind had to focus on something outside of this situation. At one hopeful moment, I pictured my future children. There was a group of them, standing in my mind and watching me. For a funny moment, I felt embarrassed that they had to see me in this state. But they were a warm thought that helped to keep me calm. The thought of family that had passed away had also crossed my mind – like my Dad's Mom, my Nana. Those thoughts fed my hope and the thoughts of death spent little time with me in that car.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the same for my brother. To this day, I don't know all that he could see but what he did see seemed to have frightened him forever. He didn't see hope. He saw death on my face. I feel very deeply for what he saw that day. I knew he saw death on my face because of the words he spoke to me as we waited.

Important reflective pause: My brother and I weren't the best of friends. We were teenage siblings that “did our own thing”. We weren't overly close. We didn't talk very much together at home. We were only together outside of the home because of some mutual friendships and I rarely even remember him calling me by name. If he needed to speak to me, I believe it was something like, “Hey!”.

My brother's voice struggled and was weakened because of his injuries but these are the words he spoke to me while we waited:

“Daisy, hang in there.”

(he was saying my name! Weird!)

“Daisy, stay with me!”

“I'm so sorry Daisy, I'm so sorry!”

“I love you Daisy, I love you Daisy.” 

“Stay awake Daisy. Stay awake.”

“I love you Daisy.”

I knew he was saying his "last words" to me. Just in case. I couldn't tell him that I knew I was going to be ok. I tried but he didn't understand. It was overwhelming. I listened and I had to stay calm. I told myself to stay calm with each uncomfortable minute. I focused on breathing. 

I told myself to listen for the sirens.

Looking Back to Move Forward – Part II

April 16th, 1993

I don't remember what I had for breakfast this day but I'll never forget what I had for lunch. After you read this story, you'll never forget either. Sorry.

I don't really remember most parts of this Spring morning but it was sometime before lunch at school that I met up with my older brother and a friend from church. We made lunch plans. Maybe we made those lunch plans during early morning seminary (The youth from my church go to a scripture study class prior to the start of our school day. We loved it! It seems crazy but it's fantastic and many friendships are forged when you're half asleep learning about ancient scripture.). I have zero recollection of making plans. Our friend was newly licensed and had his parents car for the day. Like any newly licensed 16 year old, he has happy to show off his driving abilities and new found freedom at any opportunity – even if it meant a simple drive home from school for lunch and back again. So I had assumed.

A non-eventful drive to my house ensued and then a non-eventful lunch. Well, my Dad bothered us – as usual – wondering what we were doing home from school and hurrying us back to school as quick as we arrived. We ignored him as best as we could – just like any moody teenager would do – as he was completely embarrassing – just like any good, loving Father should be!

Important reflective pause:
At this time in my life, my relationship with my Father was rocky. We didn't understand each other AT ALL! I spent many of my teenage days rolling my eyes at him, avoiding him, being angry with him and disliking him. There seemed to be no hope for a good relationship with my Dad.

Lunch wasn't really important at all. It was all about the car. I recall it being a really nice car. Better than anything my parents could ever afford. I'm clueless of the brand name but I do know that it was a shiny white car. It was the ride there in a nice car and then the ride back that was important to any teenager seduced by shining-metal-objects-that-move. So, we jumped back in that car trying to laugh off my embarrassing Dad and head back to school.

The ride back started very much like the ride to my house. Unordinary and uneventful. Just like any car ride should be. That all changed when our friend didn't make his right turn that would take us back to school. Did I miss something? I was sitting behind my driving friend and my brother was in the passenger seat. I didn't think I missed a spoken change of plans.

“Where are we going?” I asked interested.

Our friend slightly laughed off my worries and told me it was a “surprise”. He then asked if we had our seat belts on – which we did. I did a quick look around for cop cars – thinking he must have seen a police officer and was being responsible by making sure we had our seat belts on. There were no cops in sight.

I don't recall any talking as he continued driving. I knew the area well. I knew there was another street that we could turn down and it would take us back to our school. It included a bit of a winding hill, so, I wondered if our friend wanted to show off his driving skills down this hill and then over to the school.

The silence was stale. I tried to dig a little to lighten the air and get more info. I guess I don't like surprises.

“Are we going to the market up there?” It was a farmers fruit & vegetable stand just on the edge of town. It had to be that, as we didn't turn down the road with the winding hill. I got another laugh from our friend. We then passed the farmers stand and I was convinced that we were just taking the extra long way back to school as our friend had one last opportunity to turn right and make our way back to school – the now looooooong way back. But hey! The guy wanted to drive, so, the loooooong way back made sense.

He missed his turn.

Again.

________

Part I

Looking Back to Move Forward - Part I

Appropriately for this entry, a "selfie" - with a very uncooperative & uninterested doggie. He's my baby joey.

This is a story that's going to take some time to tell.

This is a story that I tried to run from for 21 years but stares me in the face everyday.

This is a story that's hard to tell.

Enveloped in this story are lessons of love, peace, hate, anger, tragedy, forgiveness, laughter, inspiration, survival, denial, acceptance, hope and so much more.

This is the story of my survival of a near fatal Motor Vehicle Accident that happened exactly 21 yrs ago this month.

As I recall this story, you'll see how I was a typical, self-concious, 16 yr. old. Like most 16 yr. olds, I was ready to experience the world and spread my wings of curiosity and independence. I had dreams to fulfill and a plan in place. I had fond memories of my birthplace, New Zealand, from when my Mum took me there to visit when I was 12yrs. old and I wanted to go back. Looking back, I was obviously discovering myself and trying to understand fully who I was. I was surrounded by a mostly Caucasian world in London, Ontario Canada, that taught me nothing about my Polynesian roots and I innately felt that I needed to connect with more people like me to understand myself better.

So, I was planning on completing my 11th year in high school and spend a year in New Zealand with my family. They were open to having me come and I was determined to get there. Through the kind support and recommendations by a couple of dear church friends, I landed my first "you get to use your social insurance number" job at Mc Donalds. Before that, it was babysitting and early morning paper routes (back in the day when teenagers were still allowed to deliver newspapers and when newspaper subscriptions were a booming business to inform the public of daily news!).

I loved my job at Mc Donalds. I learned quickly and had no problems satisfying the needs of HANGRY customers with their special order burgers (before this job, I had NO idea you could even order a burger with no pickle, onions or ketchup. A PLAIN burger? It just didn't sound right to me but as I tell my kids, "different strokes for different folks!")

I took as many extra shifts as I could - much to the delight of my managers. I would've done it without them paying for my Mc Donalds dinner too but there are very few Polynesians that will turn down a free fast food meal and I wasn't about to be the first. A paycheck smelled like a one-way ticket to New Zealand. I was on my way!!

You know how they say one decision can change your entire life? Through my story, you'll see just how true that is. You'll also see how other people's decisions can change your entire life as well.

To be con't...

(hang in there with me! It's a heavy burden I carry and it will need to be told in pieces. It feels like a huge load lightened to even think of facing it again and releasing it. Thanks for reading and sharing this with me.)