Wrecked Fragments

In September of 2001, I was in a bad car accident. Here are the fragments.

I was 24 and starting my second year of graduate school. Although we didn't know it, this was the Friday before 9/11, and my friend JJ and I planned to visit our friend Eric, who lived in Abilene. I was excited to go and hadn't gone out of town this far away from home before. 

Sometime after 5:00 PM, we left town and made our way up towards what I like to call the "middle of no where".

Our trip before the accident was already eventful. I had to stop about an hour and a half out of town because I had diarrhea.  We drove through a small town but finding a gas station wasn't an issue.  You see, I have a thing for clean restrooms. We were driving in one of those "antique towns" so there were no obvious fast food joints either. After what felt like forever, I found a nice-looking Americana restaurant. I think the hostess asked me how many would be in my party but I can't remember if I answered at that point. At this point, my bowels were more or less guiding my brain. I don't mean to gross you out, it's just if I hadn't had this bout of diarrhea, the accident would have likely never happened. 

It's disconcerting to think our little lives revolve around such inane chance events. 

We were driving between Brady and Mason when the accident occurred. It must have been a little after 7:00 PM and the sun was just dipping below the horizon. It was one of those beautiful late summer/ early autumn sunsets when the sky is pink, purple, and blue.  We were listening to Weezer's Green Album, as I was trying to convince my friend it was pretty okay. We were cruising right at the speed limit of 70 mph and we were about halfway to Abilene.

Then it happened.

There were two deer on the side of the highway. I had time to see them and think "no". They ran right in front of my 2000 green Ford Frontier. I knew intellectually I wasn't supposed to try to dodge them at that distance and at our speed but that's just how I reacted in the milliseconds I had.

I swerved to my left but the deer were already there and my truck hit the back end of one of them. Instinctively, I yanked the steering wheel back to the right, trying to get back to the right side of the road. Of course, this was a textbook case of "over-correcting". Don't try it at home, folks.

Here's where it gets interesting. Everything slowed down - every second felt like an additional 10 seconds. I know the memory can be an odd thing to pin down, but I remember it very clearly and happening very slowly. After over-correcting, the truck seemed to hang on the driver's side two wheels.  In this millisecond, my brain concocted a favorable outcome, similar to An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.  I remember thinking, "We're gonna make it".  Of course, we would land back on all four wheels, flipping would be impossible. Sure,  I'd have a pretty damaged front end, but we would be back on our way to Abilene in no time with a story to tell.  No problem, right?

Instead, the truck continued it's momentum to the right and we slammed down onto the road towards our journey upside-down and right-side up again. And again, and again.  It felt earth-shattering. This was easily the loudest noise I had ever heard before or since. At one point I remember opening my eyes and seeing the world turn upside-down and thinking, "When is this going to end?" It felt like this was taking entirely too long.

We finally settled about 10 feet off the road, we must have flipped at least 5-6 times. Thankfully, this was central Texas and there weren't many trees around.  We were also blessed enough to land right-side up. Weezer was still playing on the trusty stereo ("Simple Pages" for those scoring at home). My first action was to turn the music off.  JJ later told me he asked me if I was okay about 2-3 times before I responded but I don't remember that at all. 

As I looked around I couldn't fathom how or why my left arm was bleeding profusely. I looked down and I just saw red; red meat. Blood was everywhere and I remember thinking that this could be very, very bad. We were in the middle of nowhere and my left wrist and arm were bleeding more blood than I had ever seen in real life.

JJ was basically unscathed - he had one small scratch on his arm. Thus I deemed him "Unbreakable" after the accident. If you haven't seen the movie, well, you are missing the reference. 

It's an underrated movie that I think was unfairly panned at the time of its release.  Unbreakable has a lower score on IMDB than The Avengers. I am sorry, The Avengers sucked. I  guess it was a "fun" movie (with lots of explosions and aliens)  but the more I think about it, the more it sucked. Search your heart, you will know it's true. Unbreakable gives you something to think about. I think people felt the ending was too much of a rip-off of The Sixth Sense (and this was the very next film after its release). Although the ending was a surprise, it remains one of my favorites because of the themes of identity and purpose. It helps that it's about comic books too. Oh, and it's my favorite Samuel L. Jackson flick - the more restrained he is, the better (although neutered in Star Wars was like watching a Michael Jordan play minor league baseball).  

My arm hurt but it wasn't all that bad - I was more worried than anything else.  My door was sealed shut but JJ could get out of his side. JJ called 911 with my cell phone. I had never wanted one of the new-fangled devices but my Mom insisted on giving one to me. I never used the thing, maybe using it just a few times in my life. However, I did take it with me if I traveled. This was very cutting-edge in 2001 and it featured those classic alarm-clock-like numbers on it! Looking back, I am surprised the phone even had coverage in the middle of nowhere.   

At this point, things get hazy. After the 911 call and obligatory phone calls to our families, JJ began to gather our belongings. All of our bags and clothing had been strewn  across the highway.

Someone had pulled over to help us and soon a man was visiting with me at the driver's side window. This stranger was going to help me keep myself together. I wanted to get out of the car but glass was everywhere and the stranger told me to stay put.

I knew I was going into shock. It's an entirely odd and disconcerting experience to lose control of your body while at the same time knowing exactly what and why it is happening. Suddenly, it felt as if the wind picked up and this beautiful late summer night seemed downright cold.  My teeth began to chatter. I knew I was losing blood from my arm so I pressed it as tight as I could onto my leg. I lifted it off my shorts to examine it but it only made me scared so I didn't do that again. The stranger had brought me a white sheet from his car to cover me.

The stranger asked me questions about my life, my career goals, etc. I remember answering him slowly. My field of vision kept getting smaller and smaller. The blackness was closing in. I told the stranger that I couldn't see and he told me to keep talking. So, I did. In the back of my head, I was worried. The thought occurred to me that I could die right here, but that thought was not as frightening as you might think.

My life didn't flash before my eyes nor did I reflect on God, the afterlife, heaven or hell. I didn't think about my regrets in life or the things I wanted out of my future life. Most of what I remember thinking was simply, "I want to live".  This will to live was a powerful feeling and like the shock I was experiencing, it also felt uncontrollable. This wasn't a choice, but instinct. Something deep inside of me was urging me to fight. 



Ok, here's the weird part. At some point, a woman started taking pictures of the whole thing. We have no idea who she was. She told JJ she would send pictures to his home address.  Check out the dude in the white shirt on the left. I have no idea who this guy was. He was not (to my recollection) the stranger who spoke with me. You could say he was my guardian angel, and if so, he looks very, very disappointed in me.

I am comforted by the fact that in these moments I didn't suffer great pain or fear. Shock comes in and helps blunt most of the pain and at the same time, kept fear at bay. I also understand how the body will just give out with too much trauma - ending all the pain altogether. I obviously can't speak for anyone but myself, but it's a nice thought knowing many people I had assumed had painful deaths, could have actually experienced less pain and fear than I had previously imagined.

Eventually, the ambulance and fire department arrived. After a few questions, I told them, I was fine to climb out of the window (not true, but ya know). I heard them talking amongst themselves, someone mentioned "the jaws of life". All I knew was that meant more waiting. One of the firefighters wrapped a huge NFL Cowboys blanket over me to keep me warm. I was finally able to see a little better. They were under the blanket with me as well, telling me what was happening, as the machine was ripping the roof off the truck cab. I started to get warmer and actually really hot. I told the firefighter I was hot but he said that was a good thing.  Then I heard the machine cutting the roof off the truck. I might have cracked a few jokes to the firefighter but I can't be sure.
 

This is nice one as you can see the extent of the damage of the roof. Hard to believe we weren't injured any worse. 



Here they are pulling me out of the car.

  

Cut that roof off like a sardine can. 

Afte the roof was cut off, they were finally able to load me into the ambulance. This was quite a surreal experience. One of the most over-used shots in film is the "Victim's POV looking up at EMT/doctors/nurses" camera angle and here I was, experiencing that particular point of view. At this point, I realize someone is taking pictures, so I give them the classic/cliché "thumbs up". 

 I loved that shirt. RIP

I may have been woozy but I remember the medic in the ambulance being cute. As my left leg was drenched in blood, she attempted to cut my shorts off to ensure I wasn't injured elsewhere on my body. I was starting to feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing. I knew I shouldn't have tried to dodge the deer and I felt like an idiot. Now, this cute medic wanted to cut my pants off. Luckily, she believed me when I told her my legs were just fine - so my bloody shorts remained on.

I asked her questions about insurance as I didn't have any health insurance at the time. But she told me it was my car insurance that would provide coverage, so I could enjoy the ride the hospital in relief. What an American moment, instead of being grateful to be alive, I was worrying about how my family was gong to pay for the treatment. 

Once in the hospital, I waited in the emergency room by myself for what felt like forever. I just sat there with my arm bleeding into a tray. It was a lonely experience. By now, my injuries were beginning to hurt and I was ready for some kind of treatment. When the truck was flipping, my arm went flying out the window and scraped the road. Again, I was fortunate my arm wasn't hurt any worse.

Finally, someone arrived and I began getting treatment on my arm. The nurses picked the tiny pieces of asphalt that had been embedded into my arm, piece, by torturous, piece. It was excruciating. It was the worst pain I have ever felt and I responded like a little baby. I think they gave me some kind of painkiller but it felt like I was given a half of aspirin. I asked for more medicine and the nurse told me, "we've given you all we can honey". I felt like a weakling. Thankfully, Eric's mom had been in Abeliene and was already at the hospital, she kindly held my hand as they picked out the bits of road from my arm.  I kept telling myself that it would eventually end, and I would have a story to tell one day.

At the junkyard the next day. It was quite a sight to see. Also, a rare photo of myself and my Dad (at least on the Hopeful Fragment). On the way home we stopped at a mom-and-pop hamburger restaurant and I swear it was the best hamburger I ever had.

Sometime after midnight, my parents finally arrived.  It turned out JJ couldn't get a hold of my parents so he left a message on my parent's home phone answering machine. Later, my Mom told me my Dad went a little crazy when he heard the message because JJ did not make it clear I was alive and kicking and that I  was going to be "ok".   I have never talked about it with him because that's just the relationship we have. We mainly talk about sports and my kids.  

All that said, I've been blabbing too long.  I was on my road to recovery. I had fractured my wrist, got a whole bunch of stitches and had a huge gash of road rash (treated like a 3rd-degree burn). I got used to doing everything with one hand. It sucked, but ya know, I was glad I wasn't dead. 

When people would ask, I would often reply that I was attacked by a pit bull. I have scar tissue that is essentially a tattoo of the asphalt (as it's darkened black like the road).  I tell people it's the only tattoo I'll ever get.



Cancer Fragments

I had cancer once.

Here are the fragments:

I was diagnosed with melanoma in the summer of 2004.

If it was somehow determined by an evil genie that you would be getting cancer but that you would be able to select the type of cancer, skin cancer would be the way to go. Typically, melanoma is slow growing and pretty curable. This is to say I recognize I am a lucky duck and I had it pretty easy.

I am, by all accounts, white. As in really pale. So pale, occasionally someone will ask me if I am sick and I reply, "No, I'm just really pale." When I take my shirt off at the pool I feel like I am a beautiful pale-glowing ember. Actually I feel like people are thinking, "God, that guy is white."

I also have a fair amount of moles and freckles. When my wife was pregnant with our first child I would joke that the baby would come out as one big mole baby. My wife didn't think that was as funny as I did.

As a child, my Mom and Dad did a pretty good job of brainwashing me to lather on the "sun screen".  I can recall about 2-3 really bad burns, once at the beach when I was around 10 on my back and later at a water park when I was 13-14. I think there was another bad burn in the teen years, but I didn't like the several minor sunburns I had...so by college I was pretty careful. Basically I don't tan. My forearms are the tannest part of my body. Everything else, Pale City, USA.

It all began with a big ol' mole on my face. My Mom actually noticed that the mole was getting bigger, but I dismissed her concerns as she was my Mom, and moms are notoriously worrisome (especially my Mom). I was going through some pictures from earlier in the year and I realized she was right.

I had the mole removed and per standard procedure, the doctor's office sent it in for a biopsy. I honestly didn't give it a second thought. I had had moles removed before and they never called me back. However, about 4 weeks later I received a strange call from the doctor's office.

Of course they wanted me to come down to the office to discuss the biopsy.  When I pressed them, they refused to tell me what exactly the problem was. I remember being exasperated saying something like, "Look, I know it's bad news, so just go ahead and tell me!" I was 26 going on 27 and I was in stage one of denial, quickly moving into angry stage.

The doctor had the bedside manner of a door knob. He actually said something like, "I should tell you that this could be fatal.......but, you'll probably be fine." The literature read that I had a 90% survival rate. I mean the doctor should have said something like, "Look, you're going to be fine - there's a 90% survival rate; you might be worried about that 10% but GET OUT OF HERE, that's the CRAZY talking,  you're young and strong, you're gonna be just fine." That's what I would have liked at least.




Yeah, the doctor treating me was pretty much a scientist first, a doctor second.

 

They had sent my biopsy to two different labs as it was pretty rare for someone my age (at the time 26) to get melanoma. I was thrilled to hear the news that I was a medical anomaly.

Having cancer on my face was a bit disconcerting as you know it's close THE BRAIN. Intellectually, I knew I was likely to be fine, but there was a few times I was a little spooked scared. It turns out skin cancer on the neck has a better chance of spreading to the brain than on the face (I didn't know that at the time though).

Because the mole was on my face, I had Mohs surgery. This would ensure the scarring would be minimal on my beautiful, pale face. If it was on my back, they would have taken just a big chunk out of me. Basically, they take tiny layers off your face, biopsy them in the office and keep cutting layers until the cancer is all gone.

The took one level off, we went to lunch, went to the used bookstore, hung out and...I was called back for second layer to be removed. After this removal, I was just waiting what felt like forever. This was one of those moments when I got a little scared. How deep did this damned cancer go? I had a dreadful thought of deep surgery, chemo and then, ultimately, death. Thankfully, that second round got it all. I was clear and cancer free.

I see my dermatologist every six months and check my blood annually. I lather up on sun block when I know I will be out more than 20 minutes. I assume skin cancer will be back someday though. It might even be the thing that gets me in the end. My mom had breast cancer, my dad has a bad heart,  one of my grandfathers died of ALS, so my genes aren't exactly winning any awards any time soon. As someone wise once remarked about life, "I don't think any of us are getting out of here alive."