Forever

The mobile device is the invention of the century, flipping our world on its axis. They have reshaped communication. Have made information readily accessible. They are mind-blowingly convenient: in schools, in offices, in cars. They give drivers instant access to playlist symphonies and celestial-like GPS guidance. Gone are the days of round disks and Triptiks. Whew! Seems like a dream come true, right? Yes— until these devices become distractions.

Yes—until tons of steel collide. Yes— until someone gets hurt; or worse, dies. Some will say that is the price to pay for the wishing-on-stars convenience. But, as a former automobile accident victim, I wholeheartedly disagree.

October 2023. My aunt invited me to attend a Halloween event in her hometown, next to mine. It was a family ghost walk, to be held on the community center campus. At dusk, for full effect… She and my uncle picked me up in his big pick up, ready for some spooky-silly fun. Having never been to the police/ EMS/ city hall complex, my uncle pulled in slowly. It was getting dark and was starting to drizzle. There were staked signs pointing attendees in the right direction. My uncle proceeded to the indicated parking area.

My uncle crawled toward an available space. Buckled in behind him, I looked around. Umbrellas and coats and flashlights dotted the lot. Then, I noticed a bright light, headed toward us at 9 o’clock. Bam! Before I could raise a hand or even yell, the grey rest that had just a second ago been next to my arm was now hugging it. Stunned, my aunt asked, “What was that?” The impact was so fast that we were confused by what had happened. Or stunned? My uncle ventured from his seat, put soles to lot. He looked at his “baby,” and gasped. A bumper was now inside the left side of his truck.

The driver of the other vehicle approached my uncle. She apologized, explained herself. She had been looking down at her dash, plugging a destination into her GPS. While driving. Mind, there were families walking outside at this ghost walk when her SUV smashed into ours. My uncle’s truck was totaled that evening; even the gas cap was ripped clean off. Had this woman hit a person instead of a set of wheels, he or she would likely have been killed.

I was taken to Rainbow Babies & Children’s Hospital. Observation indicated a concussion. Imaging revealed I suffered a pneumothorax (a collapsed lung), because of the impact. I underwent emergency surgery to insert a chest tube, which remained in my chest cavity for three days. Nine months later, I still receive billing envelopes and emails from the hospital.

The financial burden, however, is the least of a victim’s worries. My studies were impacted. I missed more than two weeks of school, spending three days inpatient and then recovering. I, unfortunately, fell behind in math and needed to hire a tutor to catch up. For months, I experienced brain fog from the concussion and from the aftereffects of anesthesia. This made it difficult to concentrate in the classroom. My overall physical wellbeing was also impacted. I still experience pain in my upper left chest cavity. Sudden movements are especially uncomfortable; the pain is exacerbated by exercise. The scar left from the chest tube continued to ache months after the accident. My dermatologist injected it with corticosteroid a couple times, which helped it heal; yet, to this day, it remains dark and knotted. Perhaps most importantly, my mental health was impacted. Never had I felt unsafe on the road. Maybe that was youthful naivete… But, now I become anxious while riding in a vehicle. Especially if in back. Shotgun only for me! I sought out the help of a local counselor, who has helped me recover from the shock of the accident. I was diagnosed with PTSD and continue to manage this newfound fear.

Sometimes a mistake is just that— a “miss,” or an off action, that “takes” away. The driver who collided with my uncle’s truck made a mistake. Needlessly. Carelessly. She was not looking at the road (or, in this case, the parking lot), she was driving too fast, and she was operating electronics at the time. All misses. Ones which took much from me. My academic record is forever impacted. The total number of absences on my transcript is significantly higher than it otherwise would have been. The cumulative GPA is also a tad lower than it likely would have been. Every grade in every class, from first semester of freshman year to last semester of junior year, is “A”— except for math, the semester of the accident. I ended up earning an “A-” in math (whew!), but there is no telling the impact of my transcript had it listed straight “A’s.” More importantly, though, my body forever will be scarred from the insertion of the chest tube. My odds are forever raised to suffer another pneumothorax, as statistics indicated someone who has had a collapsed lung is at an increased risk for another. And, I forever will fear the potential “misses” of other drivers, because, as any automobile accident victim knows, such negligence can, and often does, take much away. Forever.