It is funny how events in one's life have an impact on their writing ability...
August 5th, 2005
The summer of 2005 was one of the busiest that I can remember. Even though I was on vacation from school, I was still running around like a mad woman. I had signed myself up for a variety of seminars, some of which I was really interested in, others such as Advanced Placement training I was required to attend. On top of my professional development commitments, I was teaching SAT classes and private tutoring at night. Needless to say, I was running from one item to another and it felt like the summer was rushing by at lightning speed.
As summer rolled on, Advanced Placement training loomed on the horizon. It was not something I was looking forward to however; three of my coworkers had also enrolled so at least we were going to make the best of it together over the course of the five day time span. The first four days were uneventful and thankfully less painful than anticipated.
August 5th was expected to be the busiest day of my week as I was scheduled to start teaching a new class that evening. I had to be in Avon by 5:00 pm to proctor a diagnostic exam for 20 SAT students. Not a big deal I thought to myself considering that our class let out at 4:00 pm.
As expected, I left Willimantic on time. As I traveled along routes 66, 384, and 84 I met with very little traffic. I was actually quite delighted that I would probably arrive early. To avoid going through the center of Hartford, I decided to take exit 42 which would allow me to take Trout Brook Rd. Trout Brook Rd intersects with Route 44. Route 44 would take me up over the much maligned Avon Mountain and on to my eventual destination. I exited the ramp and turned left. I chose to enter the center lane. To my right was a mass transit vehicle; to my front and rear were two other cars. As I came to a curve in the road, a vehicle coming from the other direction veered into my lane. I had no place to go. I remember thinking in the split second before the impact, "this is going to be ugly", and it was.
I don’t remember very much after my Mitsubishi was struck head on. The events of the next few hours are very hazy. I remember a very loud banging and crunching sound, voices yelling to each other, sirens in the distance, and someone stroking my head reassuring me that I was alone in the car. I later learned that the jaws of life were used to pull me from the car. I was taken out the back window because it was the easiest way to get me onto the backboard. After I was removed from the car I was transported to Hartford Hospital. The other driver, an elderly man who had suffered a diabetic seizure was taken to St. Francis Hospital. He was in much better condition than I was because he was driving what my husband would refer to as “a land yacht”.
On the six mile trip to Hartford Hospital, I stopped breathing and was resuscitated;I only know this from reading the transport records. As I was being extracted and transported, my husband was notified of the accident by the West Hartford police. On the way to the hospital, he called my parents and his own. From there, word went out to my extended family. Hartford Hospital didn’t know what it was in for! The family began to descend en mass.
The next thing I remember I was being in the emergency room. There was a flurry of activity around me as several doctors were reviewing my injuries. A male doctor informed me that my husband and children had arrived. He explained to me that he wanted them to see me before I was wheeled in for surgery. I didn’t want my children to see me as I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but the doctor insisted. My husband and children were ushered in. My husband was crying and my children were wide eyed. By this time, the doctors had obviously started pumping me full of pain medication as I was repeating over and over again that I loved them. At the same time my immediate family was comforting me, the head doctor announced that the priest had arrived to see me. It was at that point that I freaked out. I refused to allow the priest to see me. Being raised Catholic I had immediately done the math. I was being prepared to possibly meet my maker. Needless to say, after some poor behavior and choice words on my part, the priest was sent away. After the priest was dispatched, my parents and brother-in-law were allowed to quickly see me.
Finally, as I was then prepped for surgery a tube was slid down my throat to combat the blood that was pooling in my stomach. I was then sedated and spent the next few hours in surgery. After surgery, I was taken to the intensive care unit. It is here that I finally learned the extent of the damage. It was indeed gruesome, but the other driver and I were both incredibly lucky. I had a multiple scalp lacerations, seven broken ribs, internal bleeding, kidney damage, a dislocated elbow, and a compound fracture of my dominant arm which required 12 pins to set it. I would later learn that the surgery I had on my arm would result in permanent graphology problems. To this day, I have a very hard time gripping a writing implement.
After a day in the ICU, I was brought to the step down unit. Seven days later I was released. All I could think of at the time was that I had to start school on August 25th. I also was in a panic over all of my other teaching commitments. Thankfully, I have a wonderful support system. Learning to let go and allowing others to help was integral to getting back on my feet. My husband, children, extended family, and coworkers were absolutely amazing during my recovery.
The first day of school arrived very quickly. I managed to be there with all the other teachers, but I felt like the female version of Frankenstein and was very self-conscious. Apparently, I had made the Hartford Courant and the whole school system was aware of my situation. Now as I reflect back on the whole ordeal, I am amazed how much of a distant memory it seems. I am thankful for every day I have had since.
