Not So Lucky Me

One of the reasons I started a blog was to have an outlet to talk about the aftermath of a life affecting car accident that I was a victim in. Today I want to give a brief explanation, since I will be occasionally mentioning it throughout my blog entries. I would ask that my readers not ask for more details about the evening of the accident, as it is a difficult thing for me to relive. I may decide to give more details as I write more later on. So, here is how it went:

I was traveling home at night on the highway, and there were many other cars on the road. The car in front of me moved over to the curb suddenly, and then I saw headlights coming very fast. I had no time to react and no way to avoid it. The wrong way driver slammed into me, and that is the last thing I remember from that night (I blacked out due to the level of injuries I sustained). I suffered a broken arm, bruised ribs, a head wound that required staples, broken leg, and a shattered ankle and knee (I could compete with Wolverine with the amount of metal I have internally). It would take more than a year to fully recover, but I would walk again within 6 months. I’m walking, but still recovering after over a year. My ankle has never been the same.

The highway patrol and the doctors both said that I was lucky to be alive. I don’t feel like this was lucky. I don’t really like the word “luck” used in this context. Luck has an opposite, and it implies chance. It’s like saying I took a gamble in driving home as usual and won, and people who have been in similar situations that didn’t survive, or have suffered a worse outcome, have simply lost. I think we all deserve a better description than “lucky”. Survival is not luck. Survival is situational.

It was actually my size that saved me. At just over 5′, and slender, I’m considered petite. My car was so mangled and crushed, that there was less than a foot between the steering wheel and the seat. I somehow fit into that tiny space without my abdomen being crushed. I don’t think I’m lucky to be little. In fact I have always hated being somewhat short. But in this case it helped me to survive my situation. I can now say that I’m grateful that I’m petite. And I’m eternally grateful for those men and women that were there that night to get me out of the car and and get me to the hospital in time, even though I don’t remember them. But lucky? Nah. I’m just happy to be alive, and that I get the opportunity to accomplish everything I want from life.

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