My Story -18 years ago but still this vivid in my mind

My Story -18 years ago but still this vivid in my mind

On the Friday before school started our football team played a scrimmage game at our school. Afterwards, my friend Jessica, along with her brother Frank, headed home. Jessica would usually give me a ride home because the city had recently put Domenigoni Expressway – a new highway right behind my house that created a shortcut from my house to hers. “Shotgun” I called out as I hopped into the front seat. This was the last time in my life I ever called “shotgun.”

            As we drove around a corner on the new highway I saw the brightest white light I have ever seen coming straight at us. None of us had enough time to figure out what it was, but I knew it was about to hit us. I curled myself up into a ball and a split second later I heard the car crushing felt the car spin off the road as if it were spinning in slow motion. All three of us were silent through the whole crash, it happened too fast to be able to interpret and react to what was happening. I opened my eyes to find the dashboard pressed into my right leg and my leg pressed into my chest. My left leg laid stiff and twisted out to the side in a position I could never demonstrate. The air was filled with dust and an eerie feeling. Pieces of broken glass trickled down on me every so often like a light sprinkle of rain. My legs and the shattered windshield that dangled a few inches from my head was all I could see. After reality of what had actually just happened began to sink in, Frank spoke first. “Are you guys OK? I thought about his question as all the pain in my body began to radiate from my deep in my bones up to the surface of my skin. My back felt as if someone tried to fold my spine in two, and my legs just felt numb. I finally answered in a soft spoken voice. “No… I, I think I’m paralyzed. I am paralyzed.” Jessica took off her seat belt, jumped out of the car and began screaming, “Oh my god,… oh my god.” Frank’s door didn’t budge when he tried to get out so he crawled out the driver’s side door and went to calm her down. I didn’t even try to move, I had no choice but to sit there completely trapped between the seat and the dashboard. I didn’t know what injuries I had, I just knew my body hurt worse than I could ever imagine possible, worse than I will ever be able to remember. “Jessica” I told her, “ If I die you can have everything in my room”. Saying this made her go hysterical, but I remained quite calm as I sat there in my state of shock.

            Finally a few cars stopped and one man took Frank to my house that was only about one minute away, to call 911. Those who stopped seemed so useless, there wasn’t really anything they could do for me. “Where is he?” “Does anyone have a flashlight?” They were all looking for the man on the motorcycle who had hit us head on. I couldn’t see a thing that was going on outside of the car, I just sat listening, trying to figure out what there were talking about. “We have to find him.” Find him… I repeated to myself, what do they mean find him? He better not have just driven away and left us here, I thought.

            It seemed like the emergency crews were taking forever. I thought I had been quite patient but I could no longer take the pain as it just kept increasing through my body. Being one who has never cussed, I yelled “When is the freaking ambulance going to freaking get here?” I couldn’t understand what kept taking them so long. Finally, the firefighters showed up first. I felt relieved and less alone, but the pain still had control of me. As the pain continued to seep into my bones, I didn’t feel much emotion, good or bad. I never felt scared, sad, angry, reassured, or hopeful as I sat stuck in the car. It only felt like I had been stripped of every emotion I would be able to feel and left with an empty hole that could only be filled with vicious pain. “My back hurts and my leg hurts” I told one firefighter as he approached me. He touched my big toe which comforted me a lot more than his cheesy line that went something like, “Everything will be OK, we will get you out of there as soon as we can”. I felt his finger as he touched my toe and I then knew for sure that I was not paralyzed. I felt completely relieved for a second, but then the all the pain I felt came back to haunt me some more. I sat there, moaning with every breath I took, telling them, ’I don’t care what you do, just hurry and get me out.”

            Most of the emergency personnel did not come to check on me. Like the others who had stopped, they were attending to the motorcyclist. When a firefighter came to check on me I asked him, “Is he dead?” He hesitated before he replied, “I don’t know… they are checking him out right now.” I knew he was lying and just didn’t want me to get upset. “Yeah right” I thought. “He is dead, I know it,” I said quietly. I didn’t emotionally respond to the fact he died, I had too much of my own physical pain to deal with to care about him at all.

            Finally they came with the jaws of life. I expected it to take as long to use the jaws of life and is takes to use a can opener, but that is not the case. I sat, under a white sheet – same ones they cover you with if you die as they slowly welded away at tearing open the car. After over an hour of being squished in misery, they  finally had the car cut apart and put me on a stretcher and into an ambulance. “Do we get to turn on the sirens?” I asked the EMT. They looked at me funny for asking, but said yes. The rest of the night became pretty blurry after they gave me a high dosage of Morphine. In the hospital, the doctors discovered I had two fractures in my left leg, a fractured ankle and three fractures to the lumbar vertebrae in my lower spine. Then I felt alone again, stuck in a small pink room with my back in a brace, a leg in a cast, a tube in my arm, and a pan to pee in.

            After the investigations began, I learned more about the accident, and the man on the motorcycle. The man in his thirties worked construction on a new dam they were building near my house. He went to a bar after work. He asked at the bar for a ride home and the people there ignored him.  So at 10:20 that night he attempted to drive home. When turning onto the divided highway, he started driving down the wrong side of the highway, into oncoming traffic. He met us on a curve in the road and drove his motorcycle straight into my friend’s car. He hit only the front right passenger side of the car, the “shotgun” seat I was sitting in. His motorcycle was ripped apart into two major chunks and many little pieces. He died instantly when he hit the windshield, then flew over the car, and landed on the side of the road.

Please don't drink and drive... or let others do so.

When Something Good comes out of a Bad Situation

Most who know me have heard the story. When I was 16 years old, a friend was driving me home after a high school football game in Hemet. A drunk motorcyclist was driving the wrong way down the expressway and hit us head on. All the impact was on my side of the car. He died instantly, I fractured my lower back in 3 places, broke my leg in two places, and fractured my ankle. I spent a few months on home-hospital and was initially in a wheelchair.
I healed almost completely and went off to college and moved on with my life, but always felt bad that I didn't do more with the situation. I had thought about joining MADD or doing something else similar but it just never happened.
I've always thought that things happen for a reason. Even at the time, I thought- if he didn't hit us, he would have very likely hit the next car coming down the road. What if that car had a mom and a baby? I was fine with taking the hit, because I felt I was strong enough to take it.
However,  I never saw any concrete good that came from my experience. I know sometimes you never see how everything is impacted from one event, but still.

1 1/2 years ago I learned (through a facebook friend's post) that there was an accident at a high school in  Hemet. A student plowed through a crosswalk while a group of students were crossing (unintentionally - still debatable if it was brake failure or if he was fooling around and lost control, but that's a different story).
 I emailed the pricipal, told my story and offered to help in anyway I could. The principal passed on my email to the parents of the injured students.
One mother contacted me.  Her daughter we will call V fractured her pelvis and her arm was cut very badly. I communicated with her mom via email regularly that first month after the accident. I shared my thoughts and ideas about what V might be feeling, how it might show up in her behavior, what her mom should and probably shouldn't say/do, and gave examples of ways she could empower her daughter, and bring back a sense of normalcy.
It's been a year since I have communicated with the mom. Honestly I forgot about the whole situation. She emailed me today and asked if I could call her. When I did she asked me a few questions, and then thanked me many times. She said I was the most helpful of all to her and V after the accident and they really appreciated my words and advice.
I  know there were grief counselors brought into the school, along with the school psychologist and doctors they visited. I have never met them in person, so I was surprised, yet honored for her to say I was the most helpful in helping them get through the accident.
So 16  years later, I feel a sense of completeness. Now I see for sure, that something good came from my tragedy, and for that it was worth it.

Will Speaks of his Prenatal and Newborn Life and Memory of Heaven

Will speaks on his prenatal and newborn life, and on Heaven

Will, almost 5 brought up being a baby again – the first time in a while.

When he talks about it, it is usually out of the blue, and makes very sporadic/fragmented conversation.

There might have been a little more to it, but here’s what I remembered.

I wrote it down as soon as we were done talking because I didn’t want to forget more.

So sitting at the dinner table….

Will: Mom, do you remember your first day on earth?

Mom: No, do you remember your first day on earth?

Will: Yes

Mom: What was it like?

Will: I wanted you to hold me and you didn’t

Mom: Ahh, I’m sorry.

Will: You didn’t push me out, the doctors took me out

Yes, that’s right.

Mom: Do you remember seeing dad on the day you were born?

Will: Yes.

Mom: Did you know who he was? Did you know he was your Dad?

Will: Yes.

Mom: Did you hear him when you were in my tummy?

Will: Yes, I hear him talking to Westley…Made me want to punch Westley

Mom: Were you jealous he was talking to Westley?

Will: Yes

Will: I wanted to punch the water bottle.

Mom: What water bottle?

Will: Your water bottle

Mom: When you were in my tummy?

Will: Yes

Mom: There was a water bottle in my tummy?

Will: Yes… I wanted to touch it.

Mom: I drank water in your tummy

Will: I loved you before I was born… I loved you in Heaven.

Mom: Were you in Heaven before you were born?

Will: Yes.

Mom: Did you meet Jesus in Heaven?

Will: Yes

Mom: Did he talk to you?

Will: Yes

Mom: What did he say?

Will: He told me to be good

Mom: Did he say anything about me?

Will: Yes he said be good for your momma

Two Trophies

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I was a competitive baton twirler from the age of 4-15 years old. I competed in hundreds of competitions including the annual state, regional, and national championship. Between my sister and I, we had over 500 hundred trophies that topped every dresser, shelf and open space in our house. Some were second place trophies from small competitions, some were first place trophies representing and important title and job well done. Over the years, they have pretty much all blended together… I don’t really know which ones represented a great win and the best performance. Of all the trophies I have they all remain in at my parent’s house (many now boxed out in the garage) two I have brought to my home. These two trophies  I remember well and now carry the most importance.

One of these trophies I received when I was 13. At the regional competition each year, there was a Miss Congeniality award. All the baton twirlers voted for one fellow twirler whom they respected and admired not necessarily for their twirling talents, but for their personality and friendship. I was surprised but honored when I was announced the winner of that trophy.

When I was 15, I sprained my neck practicing for the national competition. Like many serious competitors, I tried to compete in the nationals even though it was not healed. I ended up losing feeling in my arms and legs during my first competitive event and left the weeklong competition on a stretcher. Healing from that took a year, but when I was 16 I planned to twirl again. Before I did, I was in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver, leaving me with a fractured back , broken leg, and fractured ankle. This recovery was much harder and longer.

I was lucky to be able to go off to college and work towards new goals, but I hated how my baton life ended. So, on winter break of my freshman year back at my parent’s house. I picked up my baton when no one else was home. My ankle was still weak and when I tried to spin around just once I fell hard to the ground. I repeated this many times, practicing only when no one was around as I knew they would worry and try to stop me. But once I practiced to where I could do at least some of my more basic tricks, I called my mom outside to watch and asked if I could do just one more competition.  Like old times, my mother, sister and I packed the car and this time drove to Las Vegas for a competition. For whatever reason, there weren’t many entries in my category, there was just me and another girl. The other girl was very good and I did not care if she beat me. I just wanted to make it through my routine. Dressed in my old costume and with my ankle wrapped up, I twirled two batons in front of the judges. I made it through and I was very proud of myself. Now I could retire the batons with a sense of pride. I did get a second place trophy that day. Normally taking home a second place trophy if there were only two competitors in the event was like a slap in the face, but this time it was a treasure.

As with a competitor in any sport, winning was important. There are pictures on a winner’s podium of great smiles standing on the top #1 and some of fake smiles holding back tears when standing on #2, #3, or even on the floor next to the podium when below the top 5. But all these competitions, along with the coaching of my teacher and mom, and the companionship of my fellow twirlers are what taught me the most important lessons in life.  They built in me a positive character, a sense of respect, good sportsmanship, personal motivation, and the desire to strive for goals and not give up. When I look at my two trophies, that is what they represent.

Stuffed Bell Peppers- Asian Style

I created a new recipe, and I really liked it!

I was craving stuffed bell peppers, and lettuce wrap Asian chicken, so here is what came of it.

Stuffed Bell Peppers- Asian style
serves 4

1/2 pound of ground chicken breast

1-2 cups of brown rice

1 package of Simply Asian Kung Pao Stir Fry sauce (or you could make your own)

1/2 onion, finely chopped

1/4 cup shredded carrots (cut so they are not too long)

1/2 cup zucchini finely chopped

1/4 cup chopped cashews (peanuts would work too)

1 tablespoon soy sauce

2 red bell pepper (orange or yellow bell peppers would be good too)


Cook the brown rice.
Heat oil in a skillet, begin cooking the chopped onion and carrot shreds on medium-medium high heat. When soft, add the ground chicken and cook until done (lightly browned). When the meat is almost cooked, add the finely chopped zucchini. Add the sauce, then add the the cashews.

Mix together the cooked brown rice with the soy sauce. Then, add the chicken mixture.

Cut the bell peppers lengthwise and cut out the seeds.

Spoon in the chicken/rice mixture, packing as much in as you can.

Top with sesame seeds (if desired)

Bake for 45min at 350 degrees.


The Kung Pao Sauce is spicy, but when mixed with everything else, the end result is not too spicy. If you like spice, you can easily top yours with Siracha sauce before or after baking.

Water chestnuts and green onions would go well in this recipe if you like those things (which I don't)

You cannot taste the Zucchini in the recipe.

We ate ours alongside some steamed broccoli. I mixed the broccoli in with this as I was eating and really liked it. So, broccoli could easily be added to the recipe, but the bell peppers fill up fast.

Honey Wheat Oat Bread

I have been working on testing and perfecting this recipe. I love this bread!
I slice it, lightly butter each side and grill the bread on a griddle, then use for sandwiches. So good, I am now a homemade bread snob and I cannot even eat a sandwich on regular bread anymore.

Honey Wheat Oat Bread

5 cups unbleached flour

3 ¼ cups whole wheat flour

1 ½  cups oats (I use Coach’s Oats, but you can also use, old fashioned or quick cooking)

4 1/2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon salt

2 1/2 teaspoons rapid rise yeast

1/3 cup honey

1/3 cup canola oil (or vegetable oil works too)

1 tablespoon flax oil (optional)

3 1/2 cups hot water

1/8 cup vital wheat gluten flour (optional- helps it rise though)

In a very large mixing bowl, stir together the flour, oats, sugar, salt.  

In a 4 cup measuring cup or medium bowl whisk yeast, honey and oil into the water.

Stir the water mixture into the flour mixture, until blended. (I use my dough hook on my mixer).

Then add the vital wheat gluten and mix just until thoroughly blended

Put a cup of water in the microwave for 2 minutes. Then put the bowl of dough in the microwave to let the bread rise (if your bowl will not fit, then you can let your bread rise on your counter top) Let rise until double in size.

Spray two loaf pounds with Baker’s Joy (or Pam, but Baker’s Joy works better for non-stick)

Spoon dough into the loaf pans  let rise again until they reach above the top of the pan (you can do the microwave rise again if you want)

Bake at 375 for 45-50 minutes (halfway through, gently cover  the loaves with foil to prevent the tops from getting to dark).

Cool in pans on wire rack for 5 minutes. Then remove from the pans and cool loaves on wire racks.

Dear Professor

 Teaching is often frustrating and exhausting, but getting feedback like this makes it all worth it.

Dear Professor,

            I was assigned to write a letter to a former teacher who has made an impact on my life. You were my first choice, for you’ve taught me more than most I’ve ever known or remember. I have never had another teacher or professor from any school support me in the way you have. What you did for me in my first college class last year made such an impact with me and helped me to gain assurance and strength to carry on with my education in college courses. When I was at my worst with so much frustration and close to dropping not only your class but out of college altogether, you were able to get me to focus on the positive, understand my personal situation, and give me self-confidence to complete your class.

            I have continued my courses knowing I can do what I need to do to accomplish my goals. I’ve learned to not put so much pressure on myself to be perfect. I continue to think of you and remember the lessons you taught me throughout my first class with you. Your structure and attention to detail was just what I needed to help me be successful.

            As I begin to work with children, I plan to use your style of teaching, attention to detail, structure in planning, and understanding that we all are people first. I will think of you as I help students overcome their difference and other obstacles they may come across. I plan on communicating with not only my students but also their parents in a timely manner as you have with your students.

            I have been blessed to have you as my “first” official college professor and I don’t believe I’d be continuing my education if it wasn’t for you support and believe in me the way you have.

Thank you,