Test of Life

The only round headlights, that I knew of were on the Volkswagen Beatle. That is how I remember that split second, the headlights. It is amazing the impact in my life of those moments, those single moments that changed me forever.

The accident was the night of May 9th, 1988 on the corner of Anaheim and Clark in Long Beach, CA. Vehicle one was turning left, vehicle two was proceeding straight thru the intersection. The witness said he was directly behind vehicle one and saw vehicle two prior to the collision; vehicle one never did. The driver of vehicle two flipped over the top of the Beatle and the scooter went under. As the driver of vehicle two, I've always thought that was the preferable order.

I thought to myself, there was not a soul on the street moments ago, where did these people come from? As I realized I had been hit by a car and was lying on the street, all I could think was I can't afford this. It wasn't about money; no, it was about my life being derailed when things had been going so well. I was back in college after a three year hiatus finishing my undergraduate degree in psychology at Long Beach State, doing really well in my classes. I had a great group of friends. I worked in a charming restaurant and was about to be trained as a Sous Chef, and damn it, I lived in California just blocks from the beach. "My leg is broken, hold my leg up" I yelled. A broken leg was not even close to reality, it ends up my Femur was bulging through my ass and my leg could not have been lowered even if I tried. Someone whose face I never saw and whose name I will never know stayed there and held my leg for me.

At this same moment, my roommate was driving by on her leopard stripped scooter. She slowed down to see what the commotion was but kept on going. A little while after getting home, she got a call that I had been in an accident and suddenly she put it together; that accident she saw was me.

I was in an ambulance saying over and over "213-432-2953!!" The ambulance driver, who seemed annoyed, responded, "Yes miss you have told us, that is your home phone number." On route to the hospital, I thought about my grandfather. With his weak ticker he had taken more than one ride in an ambulance. He once told me he hated being in an ambulance, not because he was scared or in pain but because he hated riding backwards. I had to agree.

Regular sinus rhythm, no murmurs, blood pressure was 130/70, neck was supple. I started to look around and the first thing I noticed was my favorite jeans had been cut off me I thought to myself damn they were perfectly faded. In the ER the phone was toward the right of the gurney in the direction of my feet. The area code of the number being called now was no longer 213, rather 212 New York City, my home for the first 18 years of my life. As it was the middle of the night in New York my parents were fast asleep, and the answering machine picked

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