Written By David Gomez
I remember the snow burning my skin, breaking the little warmth that remained in my body, yet at the same time keeping me conscious. My head hung forward; my eyes fixed on the ground. My arms hurt so badly that the slightest movement made me cry. A cut on my forehead sent bursts of bright blood warming the rest of my face. My left leg would not move, stiff from both the cold and the impact. My scraped abdomen throbbed as if it had a life of its own. My whole body could not believe what had just happened.
I could not stop crying, but silently. A deep silence that drowned within my own lament. Voices of strangers tried to comfort me, though without much success. I did not lose consciousness, but I did lose my sense of calm. My responses were slow and dull; my use of the English language seemed reduced to ashes. I wanted, at any cost, to speak my mother tongue.
A strange nostalgia was born inside me, almost maternal, clinging to a very distant memory, nearly nonexistent. Vulnerability had taken hold of my senses. I did not want to be there. I did not want the cold on my body, nor the wind cutting through me, and certainly not the pain caused by the crash. A crash so sudden, so violent. I remember glass everywhere, iron and steel piercing through the passenger seat, a burnt smell mixed with the taste of blood, and a desperate alarm flashing as it tried to call 911.
A blanket covered me completely while a few good Samaritans dragged me into their car so I would not collapse from the cold. I did not say a single word. I was a small child who knew nothing and simply obeyed. That is what I was, and that is what I did.
Sirens began to appear in the distance, flashes and strange sounds. Horns and walkie-talkies echoed around me and reminded me of childhood games where we pretended to be police officers or undercover soldiers. Then there was an uncomfortable silence, and everything began to grow dark. I stopped remembering meaningless fragments, and everything faded to black.
For a few moments I found myself on a moving stretcher. Two very young paramedics were taking care of me and writing many notes. “Everything is going to be alright. We’re taking you to the hospital,” one of them said with a full, reassuring smile.
The ambulance moved with a speed that felt almost imperceptible, yet the sounds made everything unmistakable. Cotton pads, alcohol, machines and devices that beeped around us surrounded my senses. A rigid pink neck brace held me completely still; I could barely swallow.
“We couldn’t get anything out of the car. Not even the firefighters could,” they whispered between themselves. “He survived by a miracle.”
I had been driving along Road 84 in Zorra Township. I was travelling at a fairly calm speed. I was listening to the radio, as I always do when I drive. My destination was Pearson Airport. My mother was arriving a few hours later from Peru for a visit. I would see her the next day instead—in the hospital, with my neck numb, bruises across my arms, legs and chest, and countless machines connected to my body.
That February 23rd at noon will remain unforgettable. The icy road caused my car’s winter tires to slide, and by a twist of fate the tires of the truck coming in the opposite direction slid as well. I tried to jerk the steering wheel to return to my lane, but it was too late.
I remember the impact like a bad dream, like one of those nightmares that wakes you in the middle of the night and steals your breath for a few seconds. My car spun, and my long hair surrendered to the cursed motion. My body collapsed inward and could do nothing but remain still in the middle of the speed. The car and I ended up trapped in a ditch.
For seconds that felt like hours, I remained inside. There was little to think about, little to regret. The shock was unbearable. I did not want to die. I felt like I could explode with the car and remain there lifeless.
I searched for strength from my deepest core. Survival instinct prevailed. I pushed hard against the door with my injured arm and it opened. I threw myself into the cold, into the beautiful, bright snow that cuts into you and freezes you at the same time.
Five days in the hospital, after days of pain, will stay in my memory forever. A reminder of what almost happened. Of a certain death that did not come. Though it did leave its marks.
My left kidney suffered so much that it bled internally for almost an entire day. Thankfully, the body knows how to heal and protect itself. The pain remains, and it will not leave quickly. My memory remains slashed, stunned by the nearness of death.
A single moment on the road can change everything. That is why we should never miss the chance to love, to call, or to embrace the people who matter most.
