Help Me Stay Housed While Recovering From a Life-Changing Accident On September 6th, my life changed in an instant when a driver crossed into my lane on Ortega Highway and hit me head-on. My car was thrown into the air and I nearly lost my life. My vehicle was completely totaled. I spent four months in the hospital. The first part was in a trauma unit where I was placed in an induced coma and underwent multiple life-saving surgeries. I was then transferred to an acute care facility where I required critical support, including IVs, a tracheostomy, a feeding tube, and dialysis. My injuries included: Loss of my right leg Six broken ribs and two vertebrae Broken pelvis, right arm, and wrist Multiple fractures in my left leg Kidney and heart failure from trauma Many of my injuries required surgical repair with metal hardware that I am still healing from After returning home, my focus has been recovery. I’ve faced infections, complications, and delayed healing that hav...
.jpeg)
One rainy day, I was driving home from the beach, facing a 28-mile journey across the twisting, treacherous Ortega Highway—one of the deadliest roads in California. The rain poured relentlessly, but the highway was eerily empty.
I’m not a fast driver anymore—at least, I’m a recovering one—so I took my time, carefully navigating the wet, winding road. As I ascended the mountain, the road curved sharply. I turned with it, but suddenly, I hit an oil slick.
My car started to hydroplane.
Instinctively, I tried to straighten the wheel, but I overcompensated. In an instant, I lost all control. My car spun—one full 360-degree turn—hurtling toward disaster. To my right, the sheer rock face of the mountain. To my left, a steep, thousand-foot drop into the abyss.
I had no control. No way to stop.
Then—impact.
My car slammed into the only thing between me and death: a cement barrier separating the road from the cliff's edge. When I finally caught my breath, I found myself staring at a roadside memorial—a marker for someone who had lost their life in that exact spot.
I later realized it might have belonged to someone whose story had been told in a documentary, a person who had been shot and killed on the Ortega Highway. I don’t know why, but I’ve always believed that soul was my angel that night. And every time I pass that spot, I whisper a thank-you—to them, and to God.
A white plumbing van had been driving behind me, and it pulled over to check on me. A man stepped out, and even in the middle of my trembling, near-death shock, I couldn’t help but notice—he was stunning. Gorgeous.
Somehow, even in moments like these, life still has a sense of humor.
He asked if I was okay. I managed to nod. And just as quickly as he appeared, he left.
But the miracle remained.
It was just one more of a thousand times I could have died. And one more time that I didn’t.
Comments
Post a Comment