Although I've been home from Thailand for over a week, I have delayed writing this blog post because I'm having a difficult time putting my thoughts and feelings into words. I can hardly understand what happened, much less try to explain to other people.
About a week and a half ago, I was riding my bike on a busy highway in Thailand. While crossing the road, I was struck by a van. Although I'm not sure how fast the car was moving, the posted speed limit was 80 kilometers, or 50 MPH. I don't remember much from the accident, other than rolling several times and other cars still whizzing past.
I was with Sara, another American teacher in my small town. I consider her one of my personal heroes-she jumped off her her bike and ran to me in the middle of the highway. By doing so, she was able to prevent other cars from hitting me while I laid there on the ground.
It was there I had my first major panic attack. As my body went into shock, I could only scream and yell to Sara that "I couldn't let my parents lose two daughters in two months." The heat of the road, combined with the summer humidity, was unbearable.
I felt a mix of relief and dread as I heard the ambulance siren. In just a matter of minutes, I was loaded onto a stretcher, wheeled into the ambulance, and taken to the hospital.
At the hospital I was treated very well--the language barrier was tricky, but manageable. I was allowed to go home after a few tests and some observation. The majority of my right side was bruised and I had scrapes all along by body. According to people who saw the accident, I am "lucky to be alive."
Happy to be home. Happy for a mama who demanded my dad fly me home the next day after the accident. Happy for a loving Heavenly Father who watches over me. Happy to have my angel sister protecting me. Happy to have support & love from my fam. Happy to be alive.
And major props to Taylor--thanks for changing my bloody butt bandages for a week! You the real MVP