Blog 3. John

Do you believe in angels, divine intervention, and timing? Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Miracles?

I know everything happens for a reason; it’s more of a fact for me at this point. But on that day, August 17th, 2020, divine intervention and timing could be the only things to explain how I am still here. A series of calculated coincidences occurred that day, a ripple effect of divine timing that would save my life.

I used to think an angel would look like a beautiful being, dressed in silk robes with magnificent wings and a halo—a very cliché image. Never once did I consider how “ordinary” they could be or look. Life taught me a lot that day, including that not all is as it seems.

“Hello,” I almost couldn’t believe what I heard. There I was, praying for help, and just as I did, I heard “hello”? A greeting I never appreciated as much as I should have, but at that moment, it was heaven-sent, the best hello I had ever heard.

Literally heaven-sent; there are no other words to describe it. I couldn’t turn around to see, nor see in a rear-view mirror because it was long gone. But there it was again, just as ethereal sounding as the first, “Hello, my name is John.” A low, soft, calm voice that overtook the ringing in my ears. Just as soon as I heard his voice, I felt his hands on my forehead, bringing me back toward my seat. He was stabilizing my neck, something I should have been more conscious of, but shock, remember?

I think we all believe we will be much better if a catastrophe or disaster happens to us. I’m a nurse, a nurse who fell in love with emergency medicine, so I always thought, “I would stay calm and know what to do if this or that ever happened to me.” WRONG!!

I had all the knowledge, but did I apply it? No, not really, because if I had, I would have stayed still the moment I thought I broke my pelvis. I would not have been moving my head around, knowing there was a spider-glass-patterned windshield above my face, indicating my head hit that window. I would not have been thrashing around, knowing high-velocity car accidents can result in spine and neck injuries. I thought my car was on fire, remember, so I blame a lot of my thrashing around on trying to escape, (life over limb), but still, not very calm at all.

As these warm, rough hands grasped my forehead, I immediately placed my hands over his, as if to make sure what I was feeling was real. To my astonishment, I felt calloused, large hands, a working man’s hands. I truly thought I was dying now; I thought what I felt was my papa’s hands on my forehead. He was there to calm me down, take the pain away, and take me home with him. I really thought my papa was in there with me, and truthfully, to this day, that first “hello” was my papa’s voice, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on. I will never be able to explain it.

This man explained who he was and that he was there to help. He told me to stop moving as I wiggled under his grip. I remember asking if my car was on fire, and he said, “No, I don’t think so.” I was still confused about where this smoke-like substance was coming from, and the heat. Trying to tell him how hard it was to breathe, I needed him to open his door (rear passenger), only he couldn’t, because it was stuck as well. Then, remembering I just hit someone else, I was frantically asking if I killed this other person, if they were okay. Asking if this was my fault as I struggled to breathe. John’s warm voice filled the car again as he quickly said, “He’s fine, he’s walking around outside. This was NOT your fault,” feeling the emphasis he put on the “not.”

I must have picked my phone back up because I was trying to call Ryan again when John took my phone out of my hand, telling me help was going to be here soon. I tried to tell him I needed to say goodbye, but I was running out of breath. This must have been the moment John saw my nurse badge on my bag; I remember him saying, “You’re a nurse! Tell me what’s wrong so when the paramedics get here, they can help you quicker.” There was this moment of humor like, “Oh right, I am a nurse; I should be much better at this.”

I told him my name, that I was struggling to breathe, and that’s when my nurse brain finally kicked in. I rambled off the list of my possible injuries, and it went like this: “I can barely breathe, possibly a collapsed lung given the steering wheel was in my chest. That I probably broke my pelvis, the pain in my low to midsection was severe, and my abdomen was rigid.” He asked me to stop moving again, as I wiggled, still trying to take the weight of my body off my bum. Every time the full weight of my body came down, the pain literally choked me; I could not breathe or even attempt to gasp. There was this moment of silence, only a moment, before John asked, “Do you feel your legs?”

A question I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Thinking, what do you mean, can I feel my legs?! Of course I ca…. The thought wasn’t even finished before realizing HOLY SHIT, no, I can’t!

I always imagined when people got asked that, they literally could not feel anything. That’s really not the case, at least not at that moment. When I say I couldn’t feel my legs, it’s not like they didn’t exist. There was an unbearable heaviness when I tried to move them, and they wouldn’t budge; that’s when I noticed this terrible tingling. I’ve heard people say it’s like when your foot falls asleep, it was like that but on steroids. I knew I was trying to move my toes, but I had no idea if they were moving. I then realized when I shoved my leg down, it must have scraped the broken dash because I was bleeding and didn’t even notice. Once again, I thought I knew what panic was at that point; I was wrong.

I felt John’s hands more firmly pull my head to my seat; there was no room for any movement now. He told me not to move, that help had arrived. I was now officially out of air, my lungs unable to fill, pain once again engulfing me.

I prayed for death here. Prayed the angel who was here would take me back with him and just stop this suffering. If it was my papa, why did he let this go on so long and not end it sooner for me? I so desperately wanted it to be done, the pain of suffocating, being aware of it, and knowing how bad the rest of me hurt. I just wanted to die already. I was starting to feel faint; I heard John loudly talking through the car to EMS, “I need Oxygen NOW!” The first and only time through the ordeal I heard him raise his voice.

I’m not sure if EMS were able to unjam the rear passenger door, or if they broke the back window to pass John this blanket to cover me. I felt my face being covered, then this sound followed by a shower of glass.

That’s when that cool morning air hit my face. The most refreshing breath I have and will ever take. Still not a full breath, but I remember the cold fresh air clearing the burning in my chest. That’s when I heard it. The sound of all the sirens, the commotion outside as EMS hurried to make the decision to cut the frame of the car, the roof, or if they could cut the door to get me out. I remember hysterically saying I can’t move my legs to the EMS worker standing next to my window. EMS passed John a C-spine collar, as John’s hands left my forehead, I began to feel faint. This is when EMS realized I was becoming unstable and they needed to work quicker. They decided I had to come out of the door, it would be the fastest.

I heard as the jaws of life cut my door. Then came the words, “Brianna, there is no easy way to do this, we just have to pull you out.” They already knew I was in excruciating pain, so I think they were trying to brace me for what was about to happen.

I remember feeling hands on my shoulders as they began pulling the top half of me toward the opening. They had to twist me to get my torso out onto the spinal board. The excruciating pain of my crushed vertebrae moving out of the spaces they now occupied. I remember screaming as they extricated me out of the car, feeling my broken spine click as they pulled me over the spine board. Literally click, as they shifted out of place.

This was the last sensation I felt before numbness crept down my entire body, followed by this blanket of warmth as I began to fade. I stared up at the sky now, once again seeing the clear blue I saw approximately 1 hour earlier. Only now everything was quiet around me, I realized I could not hear the sirens or commotion, and most of all I was not in pain. I was at peace. I knew I was dying and

It was finally over.