It’s funny how many thoughts your brain can process in just a couple of seconds. I’ve thought about this for seven months now, and even though it sounds crazy, I really was able to process so much in just the couple of seconds I remember before I crashed. I remember the road curving to the left and for some reason, I wasn’t able to make the sharp curve. I saw the guardrail and knew I was going to hit it. I knew to expect pain, but the thought of serious injury or death never crossed my mind- I wasn’t even going that fast, but then again, 35 mph on a motorcycle is much different than 35 mph in a car! Every thought I had was just so methodical and emotionless- I wasn’t scared or sad or any of that… maybe it was because I ONLY had just a couple of seconds to process what was about to happen, but I mostly just remember thinking that this was going to hurt. After the impact, there was just… nothing. Darkness like being asleep or under anesthesia. I knew nothing and felt nothing. Little did I know that there would be plenty of times ahead where I would’ve given almost anything to know and feel nothing again.

“She’s hurt. She’s hurt bad.” I could hear my dad on the phone with 911. “37-year-old female, motorcycle accident. It’s bad.” Then to me: “Stay with me! Come on. Stay with me!”

What is that noise!? I could hear this awful screeching sound- it sounded like a little squealing piglet and I could see the sky and some grass. I knew that I was hurt, but I don’t remember feeling anything. What’s that awful noise I’m hearing? Jesus, someone make it stop! And why can’t I open my mouth? I feel something in the back of my throat- I’m gurgling and I can’t say anything. I can’t move. My mouth still won’t open! WHAT’S THAT NOISE!? Then…. Nothing again.

My dad was in front of me and he was going a little faster than I wanted to go, so I had slowed down. He said he saw my headlight in his mirror make the curve and then he saw the bike fall over. No one actually saw my wreck, but I would love to see an animation of exactly what happened because my injuries were so bizarre. When my dad found me, I was unconscious and not breathing, folded over the guardrail. He said he picked me up off of the guardrail and held me and I started coughing up a lot of blood, so he rolled me on my side and waited for help. I was told that I was conscious, but incoherent. However, I did manage to say one thing: “I need a helicopter.”

My coworkers loading me on the helicopter

A couple points of interest: my accident was in the same county in which I worked as a paramedic so it was my coworkers that responded. These are people that I live with every third day, swap war stories with, and rely on to have my back in dangerous situations. I later found out that my friend, Steven, that ran me had quite a hard time dealing with this call after it was all said and done. No one expected me to live; and I had my dad, my boss, several co-workers, and a couple of friends there that all thought that would be the last time they saw me alive.

Secondly, and I cannot stress enough HOW grateful I am that this did not happen, but my husband should have run this call. Luckily, he was out of town on a camping trip, but this happened on his shift and it was his day to run the first call of the shift. The job is stressful enough, but I can’t imagine running my spouse or child in something so traumatic. I wish I could help him let it go, but this thought still haunts him.

Oh. And that squealing sound I talked about earlier? That was me screaming. That’s the sound I hear at night.

8 thoughts on ““I need a helicopter”

  1. You’re writing this very well. I’m engrossed in your story the way I knew I would be. I wish none of this had taken place, but I’m glad you’ve chosen to write about it.

  2. I’m glad to see you sharing your story, little sister. I was crushed when I got the news. And, I was freaking out inside, the first time I saw you in the hospital. I’m so inspired by your sheer will and determination to get walking again. Inspired, but not at all surprised. I know you. We all love you and we’re with you in our hearts every step of the way.

  3. You’re a very good writer. You definitely should write a book about your experience someday. After reading all your posts, I’m surprised that you never attributed your miraculous outcome to God. (If I missed something, I apologize.) For whatever reason, our Heavenly Father chose to spare your life and bless you with miracle after miracle. I’m a retired RN and I love reading stories about miraculous recoveries. Yours is intriguing. There is no reason you should have survived your accident, much less recovered to the extent you have, so far, other than that God has work remaining for you to do. It might not be in an ambulance any more, but He will show you what that is, if you ask Him. I wish you and your family all the best, and will be praying for you.

    1. Thank you so much, Bev for reading and for your kind words. Although I am not religious, I do respect the views of others. I have not mentioned any god because it is not my belief, and as you can imagine, people can be very rude and condescending when they find this out which is why I’ve been holding back. As this reaches more people, I know I’m going to have to address it publicly because I get so many of these comments on other platforms, but am just not ready for the flurry of negative comments I’m going to receive. Maybe people will surprise me, but that has not been my experience in the past.

  4. Your medical training shows in how you write. Very clearly and almost detached.
    You wouldn’t be human if there weren’t moments that you simply didn’t want to keep going ( sorry about the triple negative)
    You are an incredibly strong person.

  5. What an incredible story. I’m hooked. I’m enjoying your narrative voice and storytelling techniques. But also this content is riveting.

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