Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Being 12...

I remember being 12.

I was hit by a car.

I was riding my bike down a quiet, residential street. When I got to the quiet intersection of the quiet street, things were no longer quiet.

The screeching brakes, flipping through the air, bouncing off the windshield, landing on the cement, I remember all of it. Most people say they black out during a traumatic event and don’t recall a thing. I remember every spine-tingling flip.

I was 12. 12 was a very bad age for me.

I recall catching myself with my hands and knees. I remember looking at my hands after hitting the ground - a bloody, pulpy mess.

I remember the female driver. Her screaming and sobbing was like something I have never heard; something from another planet. Lying on the ground, I could see people holding her back from me. Her mind was a mess.

Every part of my body hurt. My legs were covered in blood, my face scraped and bruised.

I tried to get up, but was too dizzy and the grown ups made me lie down. I was confused. I was looking around for my bike. I wanted to go home.

I kept hearing the voices of my friends that were behind me. “Are you okay Abe?” “Are you hurt?”

The screams from the driver never stopped. I can still hear them.

Blurs of people I knew entered my peripheral vision; the Snarrs, who lived across the street from where I was hit, my brother, others.

Soon there were blurs of people I did not know and sounds of sirens; lots of sirens. People with masks and boards and leather cases surrounded me. More high pitched screaming from the same woman.

They would not allow me to get up, would not allow me to move my head. I was lifted and strapped to a wooden plank. My hands felt as though they were on fire. My knees felt like they had been rubbed completely off. My head throbbed in agony.

While being lifted into what would be the first of two ambulances that year, I caught a glimpse of the windshield that I had broke with my back and head. It had been shattered into thousands of pieces.

I rode to the hospital, wondering why I had straps on my arms, wondering why there was a mask on my face, wondering if I was going to die. It was a long five minutes.

Upon reaching the hospital, I was lifted into the ER. I was poked and prodded. My shirt and pants cut clean off of me. Every part of my body was examined.

It was determined that I was bloody. My hands, legs and head were becoming a giant scab. They gave me some Advil. Advil! I needed morphine.

It was also determined, amazingly enough, that I had no internal injuries, no need for stitches, no broken bones. The doctor told me I was the luckiest boy he had met that year.

I was a walking miracle.

I spent the next three hours in side room having the nurse pull little chunks of glass out of my hair and head.

I remember being 12. That was a tough year.


tim and brandi said...

I've never heard this story before. I do remember when we were at Fairmont Park and Brooke cut her leg open on the tetter-totter. That was freaky. I hate being hit by cars on my bike.

Tammy said...

Is this a true story Abe? If so, you seem to have terrible luck in the "accident" department!

Cheeseboy said...

Every bit of this story is true. I am sure my mom or a family member will come on and verify it.

emma said...

true story--but i don't remember all the blood, screams and worry--just the ambulance ride and smashed windshield. i called the woman who hit abram from the hospital. she was glad he was doing fine.

Cheeseboy said...

Well mom, you weren't there for the screaming or blood portion.

Tammy said...

Again I say . . .

WOW! You have horrible luck! Or maybe it wouldn't be called "luck".

Lori said...

That is terrible, sorry. That was nice of your Mom to call the woman who hit you. I imagine she was calling her to say you were OK...your Mom doesn't come across as the "YOU COULD HAVE KILLED MY CHILD, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???" type. Did you know the lady that hit you?

Ike said...


Just let me say that I also will never forget that teenager's scream (at least I think she was a teenager).

I was along for the ride that fateful day... You left the part out about the lady who went into her house and brought out a pillow off of her sofa to put under your head.

But I will NEVER forget the spider web windshield and I will NEVER forget her awful scream.

Clark said...

I was called at work. They couldn't find your mother so I rushed up to Pprimary Children's hospital not knowing what to expect, thinking getting hit by a car was probably a very bad thing and expecting something much different than I found. You had been cleaned up and settled down and I don't remember them cutting off all your clothes. I think I would remember having to bring you home in your underware. Mom did call the lady - only to tell her you were all right so she would not worry. When we called one of her older kids (like 20 years or more) answered and said "I can't believe he is allright after seeing what he did to her car". So I guess you really messed up her car, or the bike did. We were all very lucky that you were not hurt more than a few scratches and bumps. By the way, it really was your fault since you were following your friends and just were all riding across the street from a side street or empty lot.