08 November 2012

Heels Over Head

fear downpour

a real-life adventure

Read Part II here.

Now available in ebook format!

The next split second felt almost like a cartoon. I shook my head to halt the spinning. I was instinctively braced for yet another impact. I waited. Nothing happened.

A wall of damp, muddy concrete outside my now missing driver-side window seemed to form the impenetrable wall of a cold, wet prison.

I could see mud and grass on the other side of the passenger window. I reached up to finish unrolling that window, ignoring the crippling pangs that traveled through my arms into my chest as I stretched. Once the window was completely open, I put one hand through into the mud, with every intention of pulling myself out of the car and then getting my children away from the wreck before we could be hit again. Almost before I realized what was happening, I was flat on my back on a muddy slope, rain pouring on my face. Someone was holding my head firmly in place, and a woman had knelt beside me to assure me everything would be all right.

"I'm a paramedic," she explained in a steady voice.

I struggled to free myself from my human restraints, crying that I had to get my children out of the car.

"Your children are fine. They are out of the car. They are not hurt," the woman tried to calm me.

"No, they're still in the car," I cried, feebly fighting the three people now holding me in place. "I have to get them out..."

"Ma'am, how many people were in your car?" the woman asked.

"My two children and me," I replied. "I have to get the children out..."

"I see two children, a boy and a girl. They are fine. I need you to quit moving."

"My neck isn't broken. Please let me help my children," I cried.

"Honey, your children are going to be fine. You need to hold still. Where does it hurt?"

"My face and my shoulder. But I'm fine. I just need to see that my children are okay."

"What direction were you going?"


"What day is it?"

"September 25th."


"May 25th," I snapped, growing even more frustrated, as if that was truly possible. "We are going south to Colorado Springs to pick up my best friend, and then are going back to Denver to watch the Rockies play the Reds. I have four seats in the autograph section. I'm FINE. Please let me see my children..."

"She's fine," someone I couldn't see said with a fraudulent laugh.

Read Part III 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. I can only imagine how terrible it must be to want to see your children after such a terrible experience.

    1. Thanks, CameraGirl. I was in shock, probably not thinking clearly at all, but it was amazing to me that even though I didn't know which end was up most of the next six hours, I still knew I had two children and that they were young enough to be needy.

  2. The mother's instinct is so powerful, strong. As you have always struck me as being. I cannot begin to imagine what you were feeling/experiencing.

    1. Thank you, Glor. I believe God makes us strong through experiences such as this. This whole experience (the accident and the months of healing afterward) is part of why I am who I am today.

  3. I cannot imagine going through anything like that. You have written it so powerfully. I'm so glad that I know that you're okay.

    That mother's instinct is incredible.

    1. Yeah, kind of like the mother bear, huh? :) Thanks, KB!

  4. Augh - I can't imagine how frustrating that must have been. Why didn't they just let you see your kids? (And yes, it's a tribute to your writing that the frustration comes through so strongly.)

    At least you weren't hit again....

    1. Truly grateful I was not hit again, Sue. Once was quite enough! I think due to the blood all over the place, they really were concerned my neck was broken, which it wasn't. But if it had been, all the squirming I did could have harmed me. My kids to this day still question if the 2004 bone chip came from the 1996 wreck...

  5. Fraudulent laugh makes for a fine teaser.

    1. Teaser... I think I thought cliffhanger when I was breaking this thing up into bite-sized pieces. :)


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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