The Story

“It’s time to tell the story, Tami.”

“But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But to finish the process of healing you need to tell the story. The words need to flow out of your head and into the river of life to be cleansed. The people who know you will understand; those who don’t will get a taste of who you are. Everyone, but you especially, needs to hear the ending”

Ugh.

On July 8 of this year, I was in a car wreck where a driver ran a red light and t-boned me on the driver’s side effectively entering my car with hers. I heard the thud, I felt the impact, then everything went dark. I remember acknowledging I was pinned against something. I remember feeling the need to breathe but couldn’t. A voice from above and behind me gently but insistently said, “BREATHE!” I tried to pull air into my lungs, but it just wouldn’t happen. The voice again said, louder this time, “BREATHE!” I struggled but was able to inhale a little. Gradually I could take deeper breaths.

I heard my beloved car honking her horn, alarm bells were going off, her navigation system told me there had been a collision, but she could not contact the emergency line. My world went dark again.

I remember the need to cough but it was so hard and hurt so much. My lungs were coated with the dust from the airbags. I managed a forceful exhale; that was the best I could do right now.

I heard people outside of the car trying to get inside. “Can you open that door? Does the rear hatch work? What about the passenger side? Can we get her out?” In the July heat the car was getting ridiculously hot. Finally, a door opened, a woosh of fresher air came in, and I was able to take a painful but full breath.

The sweetest female voice immediately asked if I was ok. I groaned a menacing, “No”. She identified herself as a mammogram technologist on her way to work. I don’t remember if she told me her name, but she made it clear she could do nothing to help me but would stay with me until the rescue unit could get there. She asked where I hurt.

This is where I want to step away from my computer and stop telling the story, stop reliving what happened. This is where I get very angry. My body tenses upright now as I can put myself back in that moment of feeling my whole left side unable to move, my left ankle screaming in pain. I had no vision, I could barely breathe, it was hot as hell in that car. My stomach wretches.

Let me pause and recenter myself.

Back to the story, there was a flurry of other conversations outside of the car. I remember someone asking, “Is she dead?” To which someone else replied, “No, but you have blood on your face. You need to be looked at too.” I am assuming this was the driver of the other car. She was obviously ambulatory and coherent. I’m pinned in my car. Just inserting my opinion here.

The Kind Lady Voice asked me if she could do anything for me. I asked her where the rescue units were. She didn’t know. I asked her to find my purse and put my phone in it. Because of the heat during the day, I had packed a water bottle in a cooler with an ice pack so I could run my errands. I asked for the icepack to be placed on my chest. It was so freaking hot. I passed out again.

The next thing that I remembered was Kind Lady Voice telling me they were about to cut me out of the car. Suddenly I could hear what sounded like a bulldozer coming through my car. I screamed. Not intentionally, it was a reaction to me being in no mood for another vehicle on top of me. Kind Lady Voice spoke above the din of the noise, “It’s the jaws of life. You’re going to hear a loud pop!”

Loud pop my butt! It sounded like my car exploded, but I was grateful for the car door to be removed and for more fresh air to blow over me. And I know this is not what happened, but this is what it felt like; a man put a neck brace on me and grabbed me from behind and drug me out of the car. I screamed again. Ugh. I wished I would quit doing that. I’m not a screamer. My leg hurt, my back was sending me all kinds of alarms and thud, I was on a back board.

In the ambulance I vaguely remember answering questions although there is no telling what I agreed to. LOL! But I do distinctly remember The Inquisitive Voice of the person who hit me in the ambulance too, again asking if I was going to live. Whomever was in charge told her they could not comment on me and that she had to get out of the ambulance, someone else would come to get her. A healthy level of sarcasm entered my mind, “Bitch, you have caused me enough grief today. Get off my bus!” And everything went black again.

At the hospital every time I came to, I was asked questions; from my identification, to the calendar, to current events, to “can you squeeze your butt cheeks”. WTH??? LOL!!

Hours and hours passed. I asked someone to call my husband. Miraculously Terry appeared and remained with me until the final doctor came in to tell me I was being discharged with orders to see a neurosurgeon because I had fractured my back in 4 places and had a broken rib.

This is when I got angry. Sort of. It’s hard to get angry when you are on morphine, but I was as angry as a stoned person could be. Terry got me home and in bed (that was an adventure) and I slept for 4 days. I’m sure there was more to the story than that, but I only know my side of it. Terry has his side to tell as well. Bless his heart, he was a saint.

Rest, healing, doctor’s appointments, physical therapy appointments, mental therapy appointments. That is all I have done for the past 5 months. And stewed. I have stewed on my future as a yoga instructor, I have stewed on the injustice of it all, I have stewed on where I go from here. I know I was VERY lucky, and this road has not been easy, but it is the road I am on. My body has aged significantly and there are lingering problems that I may never overcome. My personal yoga practice has gone in a different direction and I’m coming to terms with that. I have no idea where my teaching practice will land.

So, I am now about as whole as I will be in body and mind. I don’t think I will ever say I am grateful for this derailment that I have endured but it has given me the opportunity to step back and deal with some issues that needed dealing with. I have had time to make new discoveries about myself and explore new truths. I have become laser focused on what matters and what does not; that includes my thoughts, relationships, and experiences.

So, as I am restarting my yoga teaching practice, I am happier with my program and my goal for my students. I remember what it is like to be a beginner. I know the excitement, the frustration, the self-confidence that works its way into every pose, every class. I see you, I feel you, I am you.

Yeah, it helps to tell the story. Thank you.