22 November 2012

Heels Over Head

Shattered Glass, Shattered Confidence

a real-life adventure

Read Part IV here.

Now available in ebook format!

"I need you to take a deep breath and count to ten," the woman beside me instructed.

I tried. I honestly tried. But the attempted expansion of my chest pierced more than anything I'd ever felt before.

The pain in my left side raced to my spine, down to my rear end before reaching up and grabbing every bone between there and my shoulder blades. My left arm felt as if it had been crushed into its socket, and the entire upper half of my body was burning and aching. I began to cry.

"Where does it hurt?" the woman next to me asked.


A man leaned over and introduced himself as a doctor.

"Your children seem to be fine," he said, visually surveying my face and shoulder. "I'm going to check on the other people, and then I'll be back."

Other people, I echoed. What other people? Were the people in the car that hit me hurt, too? Were they alive?

I asked someone to get my purse out of my car, explaining that it had all my insurance information. I was unsuccessfully trying to prove to the restrainers I wasn't in shock by pretending to have all my senses under control.

"What does your purse look like?" the woman next to me asked.

"Dark blue mini backpack with flowers."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"Could you please take the broken teeth out of my mouth?"

She carefully lifted my upper lip and lightly brushed at the chunks protruding from my gums.

"Well," she said with a smile, "it looks like you still have all your teeth."

Before I could ask what was digging into my mouth on all sides, she lifted a sharp fragment from my mouth and showed it to me. It was bigger than a tooth.

"It's just glass," she said. She carefully lifted a few more pieces from my mouth as someone I couldn't see said I would get the helicopter or the ambulance, whichever arrived first.

Read Part VI here.

Table of Contents

Copyright 2012 by Deborah and Brett Atkinson
All rights reserved. No part of this book - prose, photos or graphics - may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without express prior written permission of the author.


  1. You really got us holding our breath! Oh dear. You write in such a way, it's like I am there. And as I have two kids it is almost unbearable!
    I am looking forward next Thursday to read the next chapter!

    1. Thank you, Dora, and thank you for hanging in there with me while I tell the tale. Must be horrible to hold your breath on Thanksgiving! (But maybe we eat less that way, right?!?) :)

  2. EW! Glad you still had all your teeth but the glass doesn't sound good at all!

    1. Would not recommend glass as part of any meal. :D

  3. Gosh, Deb, this is killing me. Can't we have a LEETLE more each week?

    P.S. Happy Belated Thanksgiving. :)

    1. It's not supposed to KILL you, Sue! It's supposed to make you, well, what was I trying to achieve with this??? Oh, yeah, overcome trials and tribulation. Laugh at the thought of challenge. Triumph over all!

      I did promise I would give bigger bites if just one more person requested, and bingo, ding, ding, ding, ding! You're it! I've already got the next couple of segments ready to go and may not have time to alter them, but I think Chapter Two is coming up really quick, and maybe I could do double doses then...

      PS: Happy belated Thanksgiving to you, too! Can't wait to read about your latest adventure!

  4. Glass, word on the street that stuff can be rather sharp. Keep telling, I will keep reading.

    1. I think you'd probably be considered quite the expert on glass, Stratoz. Especially pieces of glass!

      Too bad I didn't know back then I could have saved some of those boogers and had them made into a stepping stone by you and your wife!

  5. I had read this last week and thought I had left a comment, apparently not. I too find myself holding my breath. I cannot begin to imagine, thank you God, what you were experiencing and will experience as this unfolds. Staying tuned.


Dusty words lying under carpets,
seldom heard, well must you keep your secrets
locked inside, hidden deep from view?
You can talk to me... (Stevie Nicks)

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