Jessica Miller

October 2, 2007
English 247

Impact

On June 6, 2003 I went for a ride with a friend on a motorcycle, taking pictures of
signs and sights along the way. The day before we had been stopped in Massachusetts
because Jeff, who was driving, didnt have a helmet on and there is a helmet law in that
state. So the next morning I picked up my horseback riding helmet from my mother,
since I didnt have one and I didnt want my friend to go without a helmet. We were
headed to Rhode Island, but I wanted to show my friend around the UConn campus, so
we were on our way traveling on Route 6. At approximately 10 AM, I thought to myself,
If we get in an accident I should roll. Five minutes later, Jeff pointed to something on
the side of the road. I turned to look, but because I didnt have my glasses on, I didnt
know what he was seeing. I turned my head to look ahead and the last thing I remember
is a large buck, and us about to hit it. The next thing I knew I woke up rolling on the
pavement in the left lane of the highway. I can still remember seeing myself and my
shadow along the road. I had my head tucked, my arms at my sides and my legs together.
I dont know how I managed this, since I was unconscious after I was propelled 500 feet
through the air off the bike.

When I finally came to a rest after what witnesses said was another 500 feet, I sat
up and looked to my right. Cars were whizzing past and I knew I had to get out of the
road. I also knew I should be lying still for I didnt know how injured I was. I picked up
my hand and all I saw was blood. All the skin was off of my left hand and it really hurt.
I only had one shoe on and the other was scraped up. There were rips in my jeans, and
since the sleeves of my UConn fleece jacket were rolled up, my arms had road burn as
well. Two cars stopped and first a brunette woman rushed to get a blanket and let me use
her cell phone. First I called my boyfriend and he just said, Sorry baby, I just cant be
there. So, the lady told me to call my mom. It was two days before her birthday. When
she called and notified my sister, my sister thought for a little while that I was dead.

Very quickly the paramedics and police arrived and before I could blink I had at
least six men around me. First I was asked all sorts of questions. One was if I had been
unconscious. I said no even though I had been. It was just all moving so fast. They had
to cut off my clothes and I was wearing my favorite jeans. They promised me that they
wouldnt cut them all the way off. Well, they had to. I remember one paramedic
carefully flipping me on to my side and remarking, There are bruises all over her back.
I was placed on a backboard and a cervical collar was put around my neck. The wounds
were bandaged haphazardly while I lay on the road. They were all discussing whether to
airlift me by Lifestar from the scene or send me to the hospital by ambulance.
 I was taken to Windham Hospital and it was like a scene from a movie or medical
show, except I was the star and the patient was me. There were doctors and nurses
everywhere. One put an IV in my left arm and another put two IVs in my right arm. A
nurse inserted a catheter, which wasnt too pleasant. I had a heart monitor, a pulse-ox
meter on my finger and the pain was tremendous. The decision was made to Lifestar me
to Hartford Hospital.

I was actually kind of excited to be in a helicopter, although the reason I had to be

there wasnt the way I had wanted my first ride to be. Each crew member had a black
and white checkered helmet on and a light blue jumpsuit. I remember one mans name
was Patrick. I asked a blonde lady the inevitable question, am I going to die? Of
course her reply was no, but usually the reason why one is airlifted to a hospital is if it
is a matter of life and death. There were switches on the ceiling, and windows on either
side. I couldnt see around much because of the collar. I was immobilized and it wasnt
long before I was airsick. Patrick told me to take deep breaths. I asked the crew for pain
medication, but they couldnt give it to me. I was in a lot of pain throughout these events,
yet I didnt shed a single tear.

After arriving at the hospital, I had to drink a liter of barium, which actually tastes
like disgusting strawberry flavored water. This was so my organs would show up on the
CT scan. Another procedure I had to go through was to have fluorescent dye injected into
my IV to illuminate something; I have forgotten all the technical things by now. This
whole time I asked each X-Ray technician, each nurse, and every doctor to give me
something for the unbearable pain. Each one told me they couldnt give me anything
until it was determined what was wrong.

Finally I was brought into a room and given only 2 mg of morphine, which didnt
even dull the pain. It had only been five hours since I had arrived at the hospital and I
was being discharged. It had determined that my neck wasnt broken so I could go. I
hadnt been given any instructions on taking care of the void of skin on my left hand, my
broken hand, the 3 cm deep puncture wound on my elbow, or the rest of the cuts and
abrasions inundating my body. Some of the wounds hadnt even been looked at and still
had gauze on from the scene. I was given a prescription for Percocet and Ibuprofen and
sent on my way in Johnnies and carrying my shredded clothes.

My mom, who had been at my side the entire time I was lying there, took me to
the drug store across the street to get my medication. Due to my appearance I was sent to
the front of the line. I was a mess. I stood and waited for the prescriptions to be filled
and a pool of blood oozed from my hand.

I was taken to where I used to live before I packed my things to go to Rhode

Island. I was upstairs in the rooming house still in the Johnnies and I was in so much
pain. I was with a couple of the residents of the house and was encouraged to take more
pain medicine if it hurt. They obviously werent looking out for my best interest and I
was so out of it that I took approximately six Percocet and about eight Ibuprofen 800
mgs.
 My best friend came and picked me up and I told her that I had taken this
medication and she was shocked. We were on our way to Wal-Mart to get bandages and
comfortable clothes. I felt sick and told her I was going to throw up. We were in her new
car and I had to wait to go through the light and on to the highway until I could vomit up
the overdose in my system.

After picking up around 100 dollars of items at Wal-Mart and Stop and Shop, my
friend and I went to her house. That night I couldnt sleep. My case manager Mark, who
hadnt known where I was the whole weekend for I had been discharged from the psych
ward without his knowledge a few days before, picked me up and brought me to the
hospital, but not for my wounds. I was there because I had taken risks that involved not
only the motorcycle accidents, but two car accidents, one that also involved a deer.

The story goes on from here and includes three hospitalizations, one that lasted
two and a half months. However, even though it was difficult, I owe a lot to the nurses
that took care of my wounds and helped me cope with my fragile mental status. I am
glad my mother saved the horseback riding helmet and that I had the sense to pick it up
the day of the accident Few physical scars remain to remind me of this tragic day, yet I
feel lucky to be alive and I think that there may have been a higher power that helped me
that day.