2008 Woodie Awards
Lucky to be living
After a near run-in with a couple trees, she's happy to have homework
Kristen Gainey
Issue date: 2/6/08 Section: Opinion
As winter break came along, I was happy to be done with my first semester at Winthrop.
I was ready to start new classes and excited to begin working as a copy editor for The Johnsonian.
By noon on Dec. 11, I was glad to be alive.
I was the passenger in a single-car accident that easily could have taken my life.
My friend and I left the local Sonic Drive-In that morning on our way to Spartanburg. Not two hours later, her totaled car lay in a ditch.
What caused the accident? I don't know.
There was no excessive speed.
No alcohol.
No distractions.
The accident happened on a straight stretch of a rural two-way road.
What I do know is that I was rummaging through my cluttered purse when I noticed a bright yellow road sign coming at me.
I know that our car swerved into the left lane, nearly hit another car and ran off the road and into a ditch, between two trees just a couple meters apart.
"It hurts!" I remember yelling multiple times, once the car stopped moving.
I arrived at Chester Regional Medical Center, they took an x-ray of my hips and a CT scan.
My dad beat the ambulance to the hospital. He was at work 70 miles away.
Of course the accident left me useless for awhile. I waddled around for three days and it hurt to make facial expressions for a week.
But, in a way, I'm glad it happened.
I can sit here, writing this story with a nasty sinus infection and still feel blessed that I'm not dead in that ditch.
I am grateful for the people who stopped to help us: two nurses and the man we almost collided with on our way to the ditch.
My gratitude doesn't mean that I'm not afraid - I criticize the driving habits of everyone I know. I say, "slow down," if they're driving too fast, and yell if they take their hands off the wheel.
But so what? Not everyone is lucky like me. Not every pair of trees has room for a car in between.
I walked out of that car paralyzed with fear. Suddenly I was afraid of everything: break-ins and fires, even being mugged seemed inevitable.
Finally, I realized what I needed to learn all along: I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of not living.
I see the beauty in deadlines, general education courses and sinus infections; they're all a part of living and I'm happy that I'm still here.
I was ready to start new classes and excited to begin working as a copy editor for The Johnsonian.
By noon on Dec. 11, I was glad to be alive.
I was the passenger in a single-car accident that easily could have taken my life.
My friend and I left the local Sonic Drive-In that morning on our way to Spartanburg. Not two hours later, her totaled car lay in a ditch.
What caused the accident? I don't know.
There was no excessive speed.
No alcohol.
No distractions.
The accident happened on a straight stretch of a rural two-way road.
What I do know is that I was rummaging through my cluttered purse when I noticed a bright yellow road sign coming at me.
I know that our car swerved into the left lane, nearly hit another car and ran off the road and into a ditch, between two trees just a couple meters apart.
"It hurts!" I remember yelling multiple times, once the car stopped moving.
I arrived at Chester Regional Medical Center, they took an x-ray of my hips and a CT scan.
My dad beat the ambulance to the hospital. He was at work 70 miles away.
Of course the accident left me useless for awhile. I waddled around for three days and it hurt to make facial expressions for a week.
But, in a way, I'm glad it happened.
I can sit here, writing this story with a nasty sinus infection and still feel blessed that I'm not dead in that ditch.
I am grateful for the people who stopped to help us: two nurses and the man we almost collided with on our way to the ditch.
My gratitude doesn't mean that I'm not afraid - I criticize the driving habits of everyone I know. I say, "slow down," if they're driving too fast, and yell if they take their hands off the wheel.
But so what? Not everyone is lucky like me. Not every pair of trees has room for a car in between.
I walked out of that car paralyzed with fear. Suddenly I was afraid of everything: break-ins and fires, even being mugged seemed inevitable.
Finally, I realized what I needed to learn all along: I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of not living.
I see the beauty in deadlines, general education courses and sinus infections; they're all a part of living and I'm happy that I'm still here.
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