blood that there was nothing left for
my heart to pump.
Twelve hours after I’d left for work
that morning, I was stable enough
that Sean was allowed to see me in
the ICU. I had tubes running into my
nose and mouth. I was bloodied and
swollen. My belly was so distended
that I looked like I was pregnant with
triplets. Sean gingerly took my cut-up
hand in his. He had been by my side
for only a minute when a nurse saw
red fluids staining my gown again.
“You need to leave. We have to keep
working on her. Now!” she said firmly.
He kissed my forehead and said a
quick prayer before being ushered
back to the visitors’ lounge.W
ith the odds stacked against
me, the doctors decided
to place me in an induced
coma, a lifesaving step that slows
down brain function and reduces
swelling in order to prevent or lessen
brain damage.
During this period, I was in and
out of surgery several times. Once, I
woke up just as the surgeon was start-
ing to operate on me. I saw a bright
light and masked faces hovering over
me. I remember my chest rising and
falling, but I couldn’t take a breath.
As I woke, the pain hit hard, but I
couldn’t move or communicate no
matter how hard I tried. Well, except
for my fingers.
“Her fingers are moving,” someone
in the room said.out orders: “YOU, STOP TRAFFIC. YOU,
HOLD HER HEAD STILL. YOU, COVER
HER ABDOMEN WITH THIS. Holy ...
God. Hang in there, girl. Hang in
there.”
The paramedics arrived—a team of
three women. They began by rolling
my body onto a backboard. Later I’d
learn that for one of them, it was her
first day on the job. In fact, I was her
very first call.T
he ride to the hospital took
about 20 minutes. The double
doors of the ambulance opened
to the sunlight, and from there it
was straight to the emergency room,
where, for the next eight hours, I
kept dying. I would flatline, someone
would do CPR, and they’d pull me
back from the abyss. They did this
over and over. People had to keep
rotating because keeping me alive
was exhausting. At the same time, the
orthopedic-trauma team was debrid-
ing my insides—cleaning out the
gravel and rocks and debris. My stom-
ach was ripped open, my backside
was ripped open, my pelvic bone was
severed. The pelvis holds up all the vi-
tal organs, so when it’s compromised,
internal hemorrhaging doesn’t stop.
On top of that, my left femoral ar-
tery was severed. The blood would
run through me and right out again,
over and over. Our bodies hold
roughly ten pints of blood. That day, I
went through 78 pints—eight bodies’
worth. At times, I had lost so muchrd.com 85Drama in Real Life