Accident History: Part 2

I was told later that one of the first-responders at the scene spoke to me briefly, and that I attempted to respond but began choking on my own blood and quickly lost consciousness again. I remained pinned inside my mangled car for an hour before being freed from the wreckage. After being extricated, I was airlifted to a major medical center and immediately rushed into surgery. I was given six pints of blood during the initial surgery and defibrillated three times, and an exploratory abdominal surgery was conducted to determine why my chest cavity was filling up with air.

It was determined (via exploratory abdominal surgery) that my right main bronchus had been completely torn from its connection to the trachea due to the concussive force of the crash, and I was essentially leaking air into the rest of my body. My thoracic surgeon attempted to reconnect the torn bronchus, but the sutures quickly fell apart, forcing him to perform a second, far more inventive surgery. Reusing the incision, he affixed my bronchus to its original location and wrapped it in place using the surrounding fibrous tissues. This improvisational wrap, being far stronger than any type of suturing, successfully held everything together but would later cause right-side bronchial constriction due to the scar tissue that would be created during the healing process.

Two-Year Anniversary

I wanted to briefly adjourn my narrative to point out that this is the second anniversary of my auto accident. I am incredibly thankful for the love and support that my family and friends have provided for me, and I truly appreciate the exceptional, skilled care that I have received from a literal host of doctors, nurses, therapists, and other medical professionals. Despite the praise I have received for my "miraculous" survival and recovery, the credit rests squarely on the shoulders of those who have helped me to reach this point.

Accident History: Part 1

A fair amount of background is necessary to bring my audience up to speed. While the names of my family, my friends, and the institutions that I associate with are important, I am electing to keep certain specific information confidential for the sake of protecting their privacy.

I have been a student at one of the Midwest's state colleges since the Fall of 2003. Shortly after enrolling, I became a practicing member of a local martial arts club and Chinese historical society. Although the club is not directly associated with the college, it is allowed the limited use of the school's facilities. Since the club's practices were primarily held on campus, I was forced to commute from my hometown during the summer semester. The drive was roughly an hour each way, and because practices were held in the evenings, my return trip was almost invariably accomplished in total darkness.

On June 8th, 2004, after a delayed departure from practice, I set out for home. Towards the end of my drive, anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes away from my house, I met what would become a rather fateful deer. According to secondhand accounts (see: the driver of the truck I careened into), a number of deer had crossed the road in front of my car. As I'm sure you've deduced, I hit one of those deer, and that deer was not only pregnant, but also carrying a full-term fawn.

If you've read this far and believe me to be bluffing about the graphic nature of my accident, I advise you to stop reading now.

The deer was sliced in half on impact. The bottom half of the mother and her fawn were strewn across the road and an adjacent field, but the top half of the animal--the section with which I am most intimately acquainted--slid up the hood of my four-door sedan (which was admittedly incapable of gracefully deflecting a deer at 55+ mph) and came crashing through my windshield, slamming into me and literally pinning me to my seat.

Regrettably, the impact of the crash was not enough to stop the forward momentum of my car. I continued in a more-or-less forward direction but began drifting into oncoming traffic. The accelerator of my car remained depressed to a seemingly greater extent, judging by the damage done both to and by the Chevrolet 3500 which I eventually hit head-on. Not only was the "crew cab" truck itself quite a monster, but it was also pulling a sports car (I imagine it was some type of restored show car or even a race car) housed inside a thirty-something foot long trailer. Suffice it to say, I hit one of the biggest trucks commercially available to your average citizen, although doing so at least finally brought me to a complete stop.

Despite the vehicular mayhem, I was still extremely fortunate: the driver of the truck I hit saw me slowly veering into his lane and had come to a complete stop by the time of impact, so I ended up colliding with a stationary object rather than a moving one. Thankfully, the driver and his family were uninjured, and I was made to understand later that they received a brand new truck shortly thereafter. Without their unintentional intervention, there are any number of less desirable objects that I could have careened into, including but not limited to trees, houses, and farm equipment.

A Brief Introduction

I understand that a great degree of skepticism may follow what I have to say here, especially considering the graphic beginnings of my story. But to commemorate the second anniversary of my automobile accident, I will attempt to chronicle and explain the events that have, despite my constant efforts, defined my existence for nearly two years. I will do this to the best of my ability and memory, but precise accounts will sometimes be difficult (if not impossible) to recreate. This is ongoing history, not a static event, and I will present it as such.