kellymcg

In 2005 I was almost killed by a drunk driver. I decided to type up my story and put it on various social networking sites I am (buzznet, facebook, myspace, etc...). Originally it was only going to be a outline but I figured "fuck it" people need to know the details (only one thing was omitted from this tale). Here is the story with parts that I know only a handful of people know about. I'm laying this all out so as to educate everyone about what it is like to be a victim of a drunk driver and the horrible aftermath that some of us must face. I would like to finally point out that this is not a "feel bad for Kelly post" but a "don't be an idiot and get behind the wheel of a car after drinking at all so you don't do this to anyone" post.

The year is 2005. I had recently completed my Spring Semester at Cleveland State and had settled in to working a bunch and working out more. Within a year and a few months I literally have dropped 1/4 of my total weight (240 to 180) and my plan to drop more weight was to start riding my bike to work. When I would get home from work I would chill for a few hours and then ride my bike up to Panera. I basically was trying to gauge how long it would take and which route would be the quickest. On May 25, 2005 I had finally figured out the quickest way to Panera (Cedar, Richmond, Mayfield). I got up to work around 6, talked with a few coworkers, filled my water bottle up and then departed for a ride that would forever change my life.

It was literally the most ideal day to ride your bike, sunny, not too hot and not too cold. I couldn't have asked for a better day. It was around 6:30 pm and I was coming down Mayfield (on the sidewalk) and I literally had just entered the city of Lyndhurst when I saw a black car come flying around a building (the brick building by the Green's of Lyndhurst where Sharpy's Subs is). Within a second I realized that this car and I were going to have violent reunion. I attempted to avoid the car by swerving into the apron of the driveway but to no avail. The car struck my front tire and I rolled up onto the hood. The car kept driving for a few more feet and then the driver slammed on his brakes. This is where physics took over and I went flying "like a ragdoll" as the lady who saw me go flying said. I landed in the left hand lane of the east bound part of Mayfield (roughly 15 - 20 feet from where I was thrown). I landed with my right wrist making first contact, then my head (my helmet saved me some serious injuries!), then my right knee, and finally my right ankle. I had the wind knocked out of me and all I saw were cars headed towards me and I bolted from the street. I actually went farther than my poor bike which was totalled. When I got to the sidewalk it felt like my ankle was messed up and I really had no idea what had just happened. No one actually saw me get hit but a lady saw me go flying and called 911 because she thought I was going to get run over and a Mayfield Heights police officer also saw me go flying and stopped. To this day I am convinced that the guy who hit me would have taken off had it not been for that police officer, I would have been REALLY screwed had that have happened.

The lady and the cop asked if I was okay. I told them I think my ankle was messed up. At this point I was shaking because the realization of what had just happened hit me. They were trying to calm me down but I couldn't even sit down even though it felt like I had sprained my ankle. Lyndhurst EMS arrived and checked me out. Other than a cut on my hand they said my ankle didn't look sprained but I should probably go to the ER to get it x-rayed just in case. They offered to take me to Hillcrest but I informed them that I did not have health insurance so I would be going to Metro Health. I walked out of the ambulance and the police officer was asking me questions like "Where were you coming from?", "Where do you live?", "Do you have someone to call?" etc...At this point I realized I should probably call my parents. My mom flipped out when I told her I got hit (my dad had jokingly said before I left "don't get hit by a car") and her and my dad were up there within 15 minutes. In that 15 minutes they had me fill out some information and that is when my wrist started hurting. As I was sitting in the back of the police car waiting for my parents I noticed them giving the driver a sobriety test and then putting the handcuffs on him. There is a certain irony in someone who doesn't drink getting hit by a drunk driver.

By this point my parents had showed up and we were informed that the driver did blow over the legal limit. A quick call was placed to my brother who recently had graduated from Tri-C with a Criminal Justice degree and he informed us that the apron I was hit on was private property so insurance would normally not cover me but if the driver was over the legal limit then insurance would because it is a totally different scenario. So we chatted with the police officer he informed us of how to follow up etc...My dad then put my bike into the back of my mom's car while having the drunk's wife yelling about me scratching up the car and then asking where we were going. My mom told me not to answer that and told the lady that she would hear from our lawyers. We went to Hillcrest where I waited 5 hours to be seen. Eventually I was x-rayed, checked out and discharged. I did ask the ER doctor for a splint for my wrist but he informed me it was "just sprained and I'd be fine". We got home from the ER around 2 a.m. I had been up since 5 a.m. the previous day. I crashed and was awakened around 11 a.m. by my mom asking me how I felt "Like I got hit by a car." was my response. I was sore all over and told her my wrist hurt more. She was coming home from work early because she didn't get a lot of sleep and would pick me up a splint from Walgreens.

May 26th, 2005.
Flogging Molly. I was damned and determined to see this band that night. I picked up my friend Carissa and then ran my doctor's note up to work and informed them I would be out for a few days but I'd call by Monday and let them know what was up for sure. Carissa and I then headed to the rapid station so we could go see Flogging Molly for three dollars at a rib cook off at Tower City Ampitheatre (yes, I was vegan at the time). It was at this show I realized what had happened to me and how I was almost killed. I remember afterwards going to Eat N' Park for food and just talking about it and then sending out a mass text message about what happened to warn people.

May 28th, 2005
The phone rang around 9ish. I remember the time because it was a Sunday and my mom wasn't home. I figured it would be work asking me to pick up a shift or how I was but it was Hillcrest telling me I needed to come back for a splint because my wrist was fractured. I called my mom's phone and left a voice mail knowing that she would be doing errands after mass. She picked me up and then we waited only 1/2 an hour this time to be seen and they put a splint on me that went up to my elbow. I asked the nurse how long I'd have to wear this and she told me "Oh honey, we can't deal with this you have to go see a specialist!". The only thing going through my head at that point was "Oh. Fuck. I'm screwed." For those of you wondering, yes, I was charged for Hillcrest not catching my fracture the first time around even though I asked about a splint.

Early June 2005
Given my experience at Hillcrest and not knowing how much I was going have to drop on my wrist and the fact that my mom told me "you are considered poor by the county and you don't have health insurance, you are going to Metro". I went to Metro. They did x-rays to make sure I didn't have more fracturing since the initial x-ray and then said it looked the same and put me in a cast and told me 6 weeks. Man was I pissed. I figured that this would probably be the last Summer I would have that didn't require me doing an internship or getting a real job. The only plus side is they called me the next day and determined that I only needed my cast for 4 weeks. So here I am, unable to work or drive and still not sure if I'll be able to return to work after my initial 4 weeks in a cast. Needless to say I was bummed out. I can say this is when the insomnia, depression, and anxiety started (I'll get to that later).

I had to go to court to possibly testify against the asshole who hit me. Unfortunately he didn't show up but his lawyer did and they told me "dont' worry we'll make sure he gets what he deserves". Apparently in they city of Lyndhurst that is not a lot. He was a repeat DUI offender, but he got the MINIMUM jail time for a repeat offender. You can imagine how I felt. My life is worth the minimum. Way to send a message to drunk drivers.

Here's what a typical day was for me during that time: Get up around 10 am, attempt to eat some food, get frustrated because I a. couldn't physical make it because I only could use my four fingers on my right hand and I couldn't be around an open flame since my cast was flammable and b. I was right handed which made trying to eat something as simple as cereal incredibly frustrating. Try eating a meal with the opposite of your dominate hand, then you'll know what I'm talking about. After attempting to eat some food I would then gather up my books and movies from the library, put them in my back pack and then walk the mile or so (the main library had moved up to South Taylor by Cain Park for the Summer because they were renovation the building) to return my stuff and get new books and movies. Then I would literally wander the heights. It was like a game for me "how far can I walk before my parents get home". I actually got bored one day and walked up to Panera, almost 10 miles from my house. The hilarious part was that my mom called my phone to tell me dinner was ready and I informed her I was not home but about 2 blocks from Panera. My parents told me to not walk so far in the heat with my cast. I would normally return home, read, watch movie/s, play on the internet and then watch television until 6 or 7 a.m. My parents never knew I stayed up so late because I was up on the third floor and they just didn't hear the t.v with my door closed over. This was okay for the first week or so but then I started getting really antsy and frustrated because I couldn't go anywhere without walking. Yes, I missed a TON of shows. It was about this time that my nightmares started but I'll get to that later.

My sister Colleen had her temps so I started teaching her how to drive with the ulterior motive of getting out of the house. I can say that teaching her to drive shaved a good 20 years off of my life. :)

During this time I wasn't making money and as I had stated before I walked everywhere. This included up to Legacy Village where Carissa worked to make it easier for when her and I would hang out so she didn't have to come get me. That was always fun sitting up there people watching waiting for Carissa to get off. Especially the looks I'd get with a punk rock looking shirt and bag and cut off cargo shorts. Normally we'd do something that required very little money since I was broke and had no idea when I could work again. Carissa would pick up my part of the bill a lot of times and for that I am eternally grateful.

During this time my medical bills from the ER visits begin arriving. Interestingly enough when I tried to put a claim in, the car allegedly did was not insured. Further pissing me off and irritating. Luckily my car insurance covered me if I got hit by a uninsured motorist (yes, even if I'm not in my car) so I didn't have to worry about some of the bills.

Early July 2005
It was about this time that my cast came off. Now I knew I would have to have physical therapy but I was pumped because I was ready to go back to work even if it was for only 10 or 20 hours (yes, I WANTED to go back to Panera, that's how bored and desperate for money I was). I just needed some income. I was then informed that I need to wear a splint so that my muscles could heal properly but after 2 weeks I could take the splint off gradually and if all went well I could start physically therapy in August. This was like running at full speed and then slamming into a wall. Within a week or so of getting the splint Carissa and I went to a show at the 868 VFW Hall (Set Your Goals, Light This City, Above This Fire, American Werewolves + others). The show was fun and the first one I had gone to in almost a month and a half. I ran into Russa at this show. We had become friends that semester at CSU because we basically liked the same bands. I asked her why we hadn't hung out and we made plans to hang out. We ended up hanging out a few days later when Modern Life is War played there with like 20 kids watching. Russa was working the door let me in for free (sorry Adam) since I didn't have any cash. I did take the 20 dollars I had in my pocket and bought a MLIW 7 inch and cd. Russa and I started hanging out a lot after that. LIke Carissa she hooked up me up quite a few times that Summer and like Carissa I am eternally grateful to Russa.

Mass
I'm going to deviate from my tale. I can say the one constant thing that I knew I could count on was 4 pm Mass on Saturdays. It was what kept me going because it was the one thing I knew was there that I could count on would happen. I couldn't always walk to the library because it was raining or too hot to be out walking. However, I could attend mass since it was a few blocks away.

August 2005
By now my splint has come off and I have physical therapy. It was pretty simple I just had like 20 exercises to do like 5 times a day and I had to go back every 2 weeks to see how it was coming along. The best part was I was able to drive again AND work. Granted I was only working about 20 hours a week but some hours is way better than no hours. By the second week of school I was back to working full time.

Late November 2005 and Early November 2005
My wrist started hurting again. Like really hurting. I chalked it up to just working a lot and doing school work. I made a doctor's appointment in December just to be on the safe side.

Early December 2005
I go to the doctor and they tell me that the muscle is probably just sore from being used a lot and give me some pills to take when it hurts.

January 2006
About a week later I met with my lawyer to discuss my case. I told him about the doctor's appointment and then he asked me a bunch of questions to see about proceeding with the case. I just remember him asking me if I had nightmares at all and I said "yeah, almost every night". He told me if I wanted to he could recommend some doctor's to talk to. I decided to take him up on that offer and I made an appointment for Valentine's Day.

February 14, 2006
I'm not going to lie, I had some serious issues. I was sleeping a few hours a night because my nightmares had gotten really bad. Sometimes I'd have nightmares about the accident where I would die or my right hand or arm would be gone. They almost always dealt with three things: dying, losing my right hand, or being extremely frustrated. The frustrating one's were pretty bad. Like I'd go to start my car and have my keys in my hand and then they keys wouldn't open the car no matter how much I tried. I had this mentality that if I didn't sleep then I wouldn't have nightmares. I was also extremely moody, depressed, and I kept having some serious anxiety attacks. I didn't know what was wrong with me but I had a feeling that my accident had something to do with it. So I found myself at a psychologist's office on Valentine's Day answering all these questions and taking these standardized tests. I felt defeated. This is what I had been dragged down to where I couldn't even sleep without being disturbed.

Around this time I had scheduled a doctor's appointment for mid-March over spring break so I could get my wrist checked out again because it was starting to hurt worse and for longer periods of time.

March 2006
It was early March like 2 weeks and a few days since I had gone to the doctor's to have my tests and they called me. I just remember the guy telling me that they believed from my interview and tests that I had depression and anxiety which was caused by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The first thing that went through my head was "I'm not a soldier, I can't get PTSD". I had an appointment scheduled for a 2 weeks later with a therapist. I was pissed. I had to now go spend more money and "talk about my feelings". What kind of bullshit is this? I did look up PTSD and found it is common when people have near death experiences.

Then I had another bombshell dropped on my head a week later when the wrist doctor told me I had muscle damage and I had to wear a splint for the next 3 1/2 months. This did not help my depression.

School sucked as well. I had to write with my left hand. That was not fun or easy. It was very frustrating. Luckily my professors had their lecture notes online in powerpoint format. One thing that sucked was I was taking a Statistics class so doing my homework was not fun at all. Especially when I messed up and had to erase stuff the paper would normally rip so I started just crossing stuff out and starting over. My homework went from 2 or 3 pages to about 6.

I had convinced the nurse to allow me to work. All I could do was register which sucked because I could only work 4 MAYBE 5 hours at a time since I was limited to as what I could do. The way I looked at it was that, I was getting some income so I could at least attend a few shows. I wasn't allowed to drive either. HOWEVER, I did have what is called a "U-Pass" which enabled me to ride RTA free the entire semester so that saved me some cash. I had to take the bus everywhere including my weekly therapy appointments. That was interesting. I had to get out of work by 1:45, get to my bus stop by 2 (this is hard when you get busy right before you are supposed to go count your drawer) catch the 9 down Mayfield and then the 94 across Richmond and up to Chagrin. If I missed a bus I would miss my appointment. I never did miss an appointment or was late which I always took pride in. There was one time where I got on the wrong bus and didn't realize it until it didn't turn, luckily the bus driver did let me off even though there wasn't a stop but not before lecturing me about paying attention. I would have my appointment then I'd wait for the bus to take me down to Van Aken and then I'd take the rapid to Tower City and then walk up to school from there and have class from 6-8ish. That was a typical Thursday for me.

Therapy
Most people have probably never been to a therapist. So I'm going to break it down and let you all know how it goes. I'm not going to lie, I didn't think telling a stranger about my problems would help me. Nobody knew I was having problems. I know people knew something was up because I remember one of my coworkers asking if I was okay because to quote her "you just seem different since you came back". I always played it off that I was just busy with school and just a little stressed when in reality I was teetering on the edge barely hanging on.

My therapists name was Cherie. She was really nice and had a daughter around my age. The place I went to normally dealt with workman's comp stuff. Like people seeing a coworker get really messed up or die. So I was a bit different from the regular patients they were used to seeing. This worked to my advantage because they got paid right away for the other clients so I didn't have to pay them until I got my lawsuit settlement (therapy cost me almost 5 grand). My first day I talked about my accident and how it had made me feel etc...I also told her how I would freak out when I heard the squealing of a car of if I'm watching tv and see someone get hit by a car even if it is fake or seeing black cars that look like they are driving fast (I was hit by a black car). She asked me what I meant by "freak" and I explained and she told me that was part of the PTSD and I was having an anxiety attack. All those things (and some others) were what is called "triggers" and they were triggering my memories. I was given these exercises to do next time it happened and she said it will be hard at first but it will get better. I remember he asking me if I had a hard time driving by the place where I got hit and I told her "yes, and I can't avoid it because my bus runs right by it twice a day". She told me that being exposed to it is actually good because then I get desensitized. I still have stuff that triggers these memories to this day but I know how to control them. I still have nightmares. I can't control those though. When I walked out of the office after my first day I felt like I had a bit lifted off of my shoulders. Not a lot but enough to make me feel a bit more optimistic. After that I would go every week, eventually it was every 2 weeks then 3 weeks and then once a month. Normally I would start off talking about my week what I did etc... and then we would talk about any nightmares or triggers I had and what I did when and if they occurred.

My therapy appointments continued on a weekly basis after that. After about 2 1/2 months I was still having trouble sleeping and trouble with my anxiety and depression and it was suggested that I go on medications. I was very apprehensive about taking medication. I would like to point out that at no point were pills pushed onto me I was just given the option. I didn't think a pill could help me. But Cherie basically laid it out that society looks down at someone who has to take medication for a mental illness because they think that the pills are pushed on them. As she said "you aren't going to look down on someone who has to take insulin, right?". So I began taking generic Paxil for my depression and anxiety and Ambien for my insomnia. I also had to come clean with my parents that I was going to a therapist because the pills cost almost 150 bucks for a one month supply and I had to have my mom fax the receipts to my lawyer so I could get reimbursed by my insurance company because that was an entire pay check for me. My mom was not pleased but I pointed out my mood swings and told her how I wasn't sleeping etc... I took Ambien for about 2 months then weened myself off of it. Every so often I'll have a night where I can't sleep at all because something triggers my memories. But I can live with a few nights every couple of months. I took Paxil for 2 years because that's what was what studies had recommended the minimum you take it. I weened myself off of it June/July 2008. Paxil sucked. That stuff helped me but it also made me tired as hell. Were not talking tired as hell initially were talking tired for the entire two years I took it (I know a few people are having realizations in their head right now) I had horrible stomach aches when I first started taking it and I dropped almost 10 pounds in 2 weeks. Then when I went off of it I had the same horrible stomach aches but I gained 15 pounds. Oddly enough I didn't eat a ton of food that would make you think would lead to the weight gain.

I would get really depressed. You have to understand my outlook back then, I had no idea if the damage to my muscles would be worse than they thought and if I'd have to have surgery if the splint didn't work (luckily it didn't come to that and I was okay). I couldn't work a lot, I couldn't go out to shows as often as I liked, I had to bum rides off of people all the time (thanks Russa), I felt like such a leach. I had a sense of hopelessness and despair that I can't even began to express. I'm not going to lie, I thought about suicide a couple of times but I didn't even share that with my therapist. The only thing that stopped me from killing myself was the mentality that if I do this, that asshole who fucked me up and put me in this position and every other asshole who gets behind the wheel of a car after drinking wins and I lose. Guess what? I hate losing. So basically being stubborn for once helped me.

After about a year and a few months I didn't need therapy but they told me the door was always open if I ever needed it. It was literally night and day from when I had begun and when I had ended therapy. I felt better, stronger. I believe the Avail said it best "I'm higher now then when I broke down".

Sometimes my wrist will hurt when it rains a lot. Or if it is like 20 degrees one day and then 60 the next or if I sleep on it weird, but after a few hours it is okay. I learned a lot from this, mainly who my real friends were. They are the ones who give me rides or take me out and foot the bill because they know I don't have the cash and don't ever ask to be paid back. Or the ones that call me and ask how I'm doing. Or the ones who don't get behind the wheel after drinking. Or the ones who don't go get the DUI's after this accident (I had two "friends" who did this and blew it off like it was no big deal WTF!?).

For those of you who have made it this far I commend you. You are probably wondering if I ever got any money. Yes, I did. Unfortunately I did not get as much as you think because that's how the court system works. I did three things with the money, I paid some of my student loans, bought my family cool stuff for Christmas this year (yes, it took over 3 years to get a settlement), and then bought a lap top. The rest is sitting in a savings account earning interest. Eventually part of that money and other money I have saved will be used to to purchase a home, but that is a few years away.

That is my tale as to what happens to the victims of drunk drivers (holy crap, it took almost 4 hours to type out). I still have things that trigger my flash backs but I can almost always control them. I've learned to live with them. I don't like being around people who drink especially bars. That is just guaranteeing I will have nightmares for the next week. It isn't so bad if there is a band or performer because that distracts me from the alcohol consumption. This is a event in my life I will probably never get over, but I've learned to live with, and I am okay with that.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me. And yes, I think we should be much more harsh on DUI offenders. Even first timers. I look at it this way if someone goes in and robs a bank, they know it's wrong but we don't given them the minimum jail time and a slap on the wrist. You know it's wrong, don't fucking do it!

EDITZ: One thing I forgot to put on here is how it took me almost 2 years to ride my bike. Like the thought of even being around my bike just gave me an anxiety attack. I just thought I'd throw that in. I think that's why I like riding my bike so much more now, I appreciate it more and I am making up for lost time.