The title of my journal entry here is going to be a bit confusing, even to me. Well, I do know what it means, but to actually write down my feelings in words that will reflect my confused state of being will be a bit of a challenge. Let's see if I can get it all accomplished in something slightly less than a full novel.

A week and three days ago, while spending a really very nice day with my grown son, having decided to drive through a part of the Texas Hill Country (I always capitalize those three words as it  seems only fitting to do so) that is well known for it's profound display of wildflowers each Spring, our lives were changed in a way that indicates that , yes, a miracle did indeed occur that fine April day, but most of the changes were not good changes. Most of the changes incurred that day messed with our lives, particularly mine, big time that Sunday afternoon and every day that has followed since. Let me expound further.

After spending a really great day driving the Willow City Loop looking for virtually non-present-as-of-yet wildflowers (it was a bit early in the season), my son (who is going through a marital separation and had come to Texas to spend some time with my husband and myself while trying to decide what to do) and I headed back towards home. I called my husband to see if he was back yet from doing a job for a friend, the only reason he was not with us on the ride. He was home and working out in his barn, so I told him we'd be home shortly and we took our times. I had wanted to stop at Dairy Queen for a dipped cone but my son talked me out of it. We were both counting calories and besides, dinner would not be long once we got home.

On the last stretch of the road, going about 5 miles under the 60 MPH speed limit, we were talking about how many wildflowers there weren't as of yet, but how beautiful the hill country of Texas is. I was keeping my eyes on the road, but the weather was clear and beautiful and conditions for driving were almost perfect. Even traffic, generally so busy at this time of year and indeed bound to be very busy this coming weekend now that the flowers are finally out, was very light. We passed very few vehicles coming down the road or heading east as we were on the fairly straight country road.

At the crest of a small hill, a very slight rise in the road, actually, a large doublecab, diesel pickup truck suddenly appeared, not slowing down or signalling to turn, but suddenly it virtually swerved towards our side of the road in a curve that indicated that it planned to turn around or into the driveway that was just a few feet down on the right side of the road. I had absolutely no warning that the truck had planned to do this, and my last words before I swerved towards the right side and a grass apron that I hoped would get me out of the drivers way were, "What the heck does he think he's doing? Watch out Jim!" and then it all becomes jumbled. The next thing I know is that the car came to a rest on it's roof and I came to (I don't think I passed out, but came to realization instead) with blood dripping all over the ceiling of my car and wondered where it was coming from. I also noted the ceiling light and then the dawning came that I was hanging upside down from my seatbelt. I could not reach it to unbelt myself.

I suddenly remembered that I had my son and my little  Shihtzu, Tillie, with me and dreaded the possibilities. Just as I prepared to say something, my son said, "Mom? Are you alright?" Sighing with slight relief, I asked him the same question. Asserting that he was okay and realizing his voice was coming from outside the car, I asked where my dog was. Silence followed and then he said, "I've got her" and reported to me that she was okay. I asked if 911 had been called and he told me that it had been and they were on their way. I asked him to unbuckle my seatbelt and call my husband. As I heard his voice trying to reassure my husband, I assessed my injuries. My neck felt strained, but not broken. I could move it stiffly. My head didn't hurt, but I assumed the steady stream of blood was coming from my head. I knew that head wounds could be tiny and bleed profusely and I didn't want to know if I had a huge gash in my head.  If so, we'd deal with it later. In the meantime, I realized that my left arm hurt a whole lot. Something was wrong with it.

Feeling out of kilter now that I was unfastened from my seatbelt, I decided to get the heck out of my car. I didn't know if it would burst into flames, but wasn't waiting to find out. Figuring out the logistics, I determined that the best bet would be for me to crawl backwards out of the shattered window nearest to where I was squatting. Being a woman, one thought that went through my muddled head was that I'd probably get stuck with my butt for all the world driving by to see. It did not happen that way at all.

Just as I got out of the window and as I was assessing what I could see of my once cute little Kia Sportage, a man came running up and introduced himself as Chris. He was in his 40 probably, seemed calm and assuring and it turned out that he used to be an EMT about 10 years previous. He made me sit still, held a sweatshirt (my husbands from the car it turned out) to my head to staunch the still profuse bleeding cut and had me keep my obviously injured arm close to my body. He spoke with me calmly, asking pertinent questions and listening carefully to my somewhat scattered answers. I was in shock and although I thought I was making sense, I might not have been, in retrospect.

An elderly doctor, probably in his 90's and his lovely wife then pulled up, offering what assistance they might supply. He was on double canes so he could do little actually, but his presence and his wife's caring attitude calmed me a lot. Then a recently retired General Practitioner, my former doctor in fact, came up and did further assessment. He joked, as always and his words made me laugh in spite of myself. The EMS arrived and he helped them get me on a backboard after placing a collar around my neck, and as they lifted me to the ambulance, he cracked, "The last time I helped lift a piano, it played music for me. " I was too amused to even get offended at that and laughed at him. He made note of that fact.

I was placed in the ambulance for stabilization and in the meantime my husband had shown up, the emergency crews and law enforcement were trying to get answers and I was asking repeatedly about my purse, a costly new one given to me by my recently returned from England daughter, who had purchased it there. I was told that my son was okay (something that I suspected, but he had cuts on his arm and bald head and I was still worried until they checked him out) and that they were going to put me in the newly arrived helicopter for transport to the nearest trauma hospital in Austin. I was surprised and a bit afraid to take the helicopter ride. I'd always wanted to ride in a helicopter, but not flat on my back and unable to enjoy the ride.

We got to the hospital and from there, I had test after test, xray after xray and questions galore asked of me. I answered them to the best of my ability and tried to be patient as I waited for my son and husband to make the 60 mile drive from the scene of the accident and for the doctors to tell me results of the tests and films.

I had a collar on my neck for hours, laying flat on my back in an uncomfortable position. I was left alone while they checked on new traumas and since it had been determined that I had no internal injuries, it was okay to leave me for periods of time, all hooked up to monitors.

My husband and son finally arrived, having had to wait for the state highway patrol to do their investigation and the wrecker to take my car. My husband had finally begun shaking with the realization that my son and I had almost died that afternoon. The man who had hit us with his truck had shown very little concern at the scene of the accident. In his late 60's or early 70's. he'd leaned against his barely damaged truck and then been checked out for injuries, having suffered none. I was grateful to hear that he was okay, but concerned that he had not even come over to the car after it had rolled to check on us, had not asked how I was doing at the scene and I figured that he was likely going to blame the accident on something. He did. He stated that the sun had been in his eyes and he had not seen my car. The sun was still very high in the sky at that time (and we checked that out the next day also) and could not have been in his eyes. That is when I first became angry. What happened to taking responsibility and being honest?

After hours and hours of being in the hospital I got the good news. I could go home. My left clavicle was indeed broken, and a bad break at that. Also, tendons were pulled and needed to be repaired. I'd need surgery. I got a referral to a surgeon and went home at 2:30 in the morning, scared of the car ride home, stopping at an all night pharmacy for pain meds to see me through the next few days. The morphine shot they'd given me was wearing off and I hurt.

The next day we went to see my crushed little red Kia. It was amazing to see that we'd made it out alive from that mangled little car. The roof was crushed, EXCEPT for where we'd been seated in the front. The roof had pushed up to allow more room. The seats were intact and in track still. The airbags had not gone off (not a direct hit) and thus my little dog, snuggled tightly in my sons arms as the car tumbled, was not killed.

Our seatbelts saved is, no doubt at all. God saved us, no doubt. We were alive when we had every reason to be dead. My relief and the awe I felt then outweighed the anger and the pain, the frustration and the realization that someone's out and out carelessness had almost caused our lives to be snuffed out. The fact that his carelessness had also caused my injured clavicle and for me to have to submit to surgery to fix that injury had not hit yet. The fact that his carelessness had damaged my as-of-yet unpaid off car to the degree that it would be totaled, causing me to owe money to my lender yet had not sunk in as of yet. The fact that I would need legal help to deal with insurance companies and the at-fault driver had not occured to me as of yet. I was just glad to be alive and living on the high that though provided.

I saw a surgeon on Wednesday of last week, had my surgery that Friday and am healing slowly. I hurt. I have to take pain pills or suffer a lot. I cannot use my arm for anything and even though I am right handed and this is my left that is injured, do you know how many ways we use or non-primary hand/arm daily? The lack of being able to do so has resulted in half-hearted cleaning, a difficult time doing laundry, having to depend on my son and husband for simple things and my husband for helping get me dressed/undressed.

I had to rent a car for a few days, the policy I have covering a small car. I got the settlement offer on my car today. It is almost $5000 less than I owe for the car that is totaled and I will not have enough money, OR money for a new used car. I live 9 miles out of town and 25 miles from the nearest larger town and 60 miles from all of my doctors. You see, I also have battled metastatic cancer and lupus that was uncontrolled for years, necessitating medical care in Austin and Houston from time to time. I also need to get out of the house. I had begun volunteering 1/2 day per week a the library in our small town and also begun a womans group in town that allowed me to meet new women and get out of the house. Now I am going to be isolated again, stuck out in the country with no transportation while my husband works out of town.

The realization is finally hitting me that this miracle that saved my life was also an accident that changed it in ways that I'd rather it had not. I am closer to God than ever, but also angry that I am dealing with issues that I thought were long resolved. My new life that was so satisfying has been interrupted because a man chose to turn around without looking to make sure the road was clear. And his life goes on, unscathed. I don't wish him bad things but I do wish I was not suffering now. Thus the madness and the bit of clinging sanity is mixed with the very miracle of being allowed to live my life. God must have a plan for me and for my son. He has decided to become a fireman and possible an EMT. His life was in limbo but his resolve is strong now. I am so glad that he was spared bad injury and pain. I am hoping that the rainbow at the end of the rainbow soon becomes evident to me also.

I am not going to check for typos or edit the feelings my words here, misspelled or not, represent. I needed to vent. Thanks for listening.