Living Outside The Lines: Never Forget

Initial reports indicated four passengers in the Dodge Caliber; three wounded, one fatality. I’ve no idea how I must’ve looked in the back seat with a broken neck; unmoving…

By, Becky J Miller

Milestones. We all have them, important points in the progress or development of something; a very significant event. There are two milestones in my life that stand apart from any others; the day I graduated from college, and the day I was run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

My life is forever segmented into “pre” and “post” accident. I literally make statements like, “Oh, I haven’t straightened my hair since the accident.” Why I can’t just say, “I haven’t straightened my hair in over five years” I’ve no idea. Traumatic events have a way of shaping our lives, of becoming the standard by which we measure or define everything, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

November 19, 2011 started out like a normal Saturday but ended with three members of my family plus me hospitalized after our vehicle was rear-ended by an eighteen-wheeler. Sustaining the worst injuries of all the car’s occupants, I was treated to a $20,000 helicopter ride from San Marcos to Breckenridge Hospital in Austin. That was a lot of money to spend on an event for which I have absolutely no recollection.

Initial reports indicated four passengers in the Dodge Caliber; three wounded, one fatality. I’ve no idea how I must’ve looked in the back seat with a broken neck; unmoving and perhaps not breathing, but apparently my appearance was so bad that first responders thought me dead.

When I think back to that day my heart grieves over how our family and friends must’ve felt receiving the news. Our than 17 year-old daughter found out from friends who’d seen the accident scene and recognized my car. Fearing the worst about her mother, father, baby brother and uncle, she immediately drove to the scene, less than a mile from our home, to find the truth.

My brother’s wife was home in Dallas, over 200 miles away, with their two preschool aged sons. I’ve no idea how she heard the news of her husband, or if she was alone and without anyone to comfort her. As a parent myself, I cannot imagine the shocking phone call my parents and father in law received. Six years later, I still shed tears over the anguish they must’ve endured.

In additional to my car and the rig that hit us, three other vehicles were involved in the accident that day, all of them but the semi totaled. The truck driver may have sustained cuts from broken glass, but from what I know, he endured nothing else. He went to court over the “failure to control speed” citation issued at the scene, but a jury of his peers found him not guilty. I was a little bitter about that for a while.

The driver’s court date did not occur until months after the accident, and by that time, our physical injuries were no longer easily visible. The 15-pound titanium halo I spent three months wearing was removed and the scars I bore from the metal screws drilled into my skull had begun to heal. Despite descriptions of the accident from the policeman on scene as, “the worst he’d ever seen, and it looked like a war zone,” plus vivid testimonies of all our injuries, the jury decided there was reasonable doubt. In my mind, we’d healed too well. Perhaps if we’d still appeared broken things might have turned out differently.

The road to recovery was not an easy one. My brother’s broken ribs prevented him from picking up his young sons, something they could not understand. Our than 15 year-old son underwent surgery for a torn meniscus, and hobbled around on crutches for months. My husband’s healing was delayed as he focused his energies on caring for us. My daughter graduated from high school months early so she could help care for us.

We won’t even talk about what I underwent in physical therapy rehabbing my broken clavicle and scapula. I don’t think there was a single session without tears. It was during that time I spent a lot of time overcoming my anger at the man responsible for the accident.

Six years later though, the accident is mostly a stake in the ground, a place of remembrance. The insurance claims are all settled, the car has been replaced and although all of us bear physical scars, the wounds are healed with no long-term damage.

Just like September 11, 2001 is forever seared into the collective conscious of America, November 19, 2011 is forever seared into the minds of the Miller, Crumpton and Rushing families. We will always remember that day with a twinge of sadness for what was endured, but also with a heart of gratitude for how we overcame. 

Until Next Time,

Becky J Miller ~ “Warrior Princess”

Becky J Miller is a contributor and is exclusive to SM Corridor News. You can read more of Becky’s columns in Lifestyle.