If you dont know this story yet, I beg you please read this...
I just started my first year in high school and decided to spend a
weekend at my friend's lake house with seven other friends in August
2009. We were having a blast. I kept saying to myself, 'This year will
be amazing.' We spent the first day out on the lake blaring music,
tubing, knee boarding, wake boarding, and just having fun -- just
putting your life on hold, forgetting about everything, except what was
going on that very moment.
Two of my friends and I were riding the Jet Ski, while the rest of the
crew was about to go out on the lake in a canoe that would be pulled by a
boat. We were having a blast, jumping waves, doing donuts, and flipping
everyone off the Jet Ski. We all flipped the Jet Ski over and were in
the water complaining about how badly the water cramming up our ears
hurt, and how we had whiplash. Thinking that was bad, we couldn't
imagine what was yet to come.
It's funny how we will stub a toe, or have a headache and complain about
that. But someone is always worse off than you, no matter how bad
something seems. As we were climbing back on the Jet Ski, it filled with
water so we all jumped off. My other two friends were on the left side
of it while I was on the right. As I turned my head, I saw the boat
dragging the canoe coming right at me. The driver was looking behind
him, so he never saw me. Before I could even try to swim away from it, I
threw my head back. The propellers chopped up my left leg, and tore
through my muscle, nerves, skin, and the major artery leading to my
heart.
The metal pole attached to the propeller went through my right leg and
broke my femur. I looked back as soon as I was hit, and my friends on
the canoe ran me over, too. The guy driving the boat didn't even know he
hit me so he kept driving.
I looked down in the water and all I saw was the color red, just like in
Jaws when the shark ripped someone's legs off. I could see my muscles
and skin floating on the water, and I told myself not to look at my leg
but did anyway. I saw my leg basically off and chopped up. I saw my bone
and every little detail. I looked up at my friends' faces in the canoe.
They heard the thud of hitting something, and turned around to see the
red water. They started crying hysterically, screaming, and panicking.
The whole time I just kept telling myself, 'It's all right. It's just a
dream. I'll wake up any minute. And even if not, I can use one of those
prosthetic legs, right?'
It was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt. Imagine someone
sawing your leg off in slow motion. My best friend's dad, who was
driving the boat, came back and jumped in the water as soon as they
realized they hit me. He picked me up and put me on the Jet Ski, which
was a miracle in itself because he can't lift one arm over his head due
to a past injury.
He took me to the dock and laid me down. I couldn't straighten my legs
or even control them. I saw him panicking and whispering to his wife
that it didn't look good. I could tell they were trying not to scare me.
I just stared at the clouds and wished the pain would go away. I could
feel myself getting weaker and weaker, not being able to keep my eyes
open. I felt light-headed, and everyone was so blurry and in slow
motion. As much as I wanted to close my eyes, I couldn't. They made me
talk so I'd stay conscious because I was losing so much blood by the
second. Not much longer and I wouldn't have any blood left -- I would be
dead.
My best friend stood over me, holding me and brushing my hair out of my
face. She was praying, telling me not to give up, and saying I had to
stay with her. I looked over at my other friends' faces -- who were
praying and crying in a circle -- knowing there was a good chance that
would be the last time I saw them. I thought I was about to die, but I
had to keep going for them because I didn't want them to see me die.
It felt like we were waiting for the ambulance for hours. My friend's
parents wrapped my legs with towels and put a ton of pressure on them to
stop the bleeding. I heard the sirens getting closer and closer. I was
scared -- scared they would inflict even more pain on me. I guess I
shouldn't have watched all those E.R. and House episodes.
As the paramedics came running toward me, I grabbed their hands and
begged, 'Put me out! Knock me out! Please put me to sleep!' They rushed
me into the ambulance so we could drive to where a helicopter was
waiting. The road was a bumpy dirt road filled with rocks, and it was
pure torture bouncing around in the back.
They got me into the helicopter but it took a really long time to leave,
because they couldn't straighten my legs. They ended up running out of
gas and had to take me to the nearest hospital instead, but the last
thing I remember was entering the helicopter. That is because I
flatlined, which means your heart stops and you die. They couldn't bring
me back, and actually gave up and announced the time and date of my
death.
If it wasn't for my "angel" -- an emergency medical worker in the life
flight helicopter with a child my age -- I wouldn't be here now telling
my story. I flatlined in the helicopter because I bled to death after
slicing my femoral artery during the accident. The man working on me
almost stopped, but this mother got emotional and begged him not to give
up. She risked her job to save me, and thankfully she was successful.
They took me to the University of Alabama Birmingham, a critical trauma
and burn hospital. They immediately rushed me into surgery, and I woke
up during the operation because I flatlined once again. They couldn't
give me any more anesthesia because there was a 99 percent chance that I
wouldn't wake up.
I was awake and alert for the whole surgery. I couldn't move, couldn't
blink, couldn't talk. I tried to scream, but I was given medicine to
paralyze me. I could hear them saying, 'We're going to have to take her
leg. Okay, we are going to amputate it.' Imagine how badly I was
freaking out at this point. They would amputate my leg and I was awake!
Heck no! I was begging them not to take my leg, but it was no use
because they couldn't hear me. It was like having an outer body
experience.
I could hear them say there was no possible way I would ever walk again,
or live a normal life with or without a leg. My parents were waiting
outside and freaking out because they didn't know if I'd come out of
surgery alive. The doctors told them that they were doing the best they
could, but it didn't look good. They drove two hours after getting a
call that I was hurt. They had no clue how extreme my injuries were and
now they faced never seeing their girl again.
I remember waking up a few days after surgery, and I was alone in a room
with white walls. I couldn't talk or move an inch. I had a breathing
tube, and they cut open my ribs and inserted two chest tubes. I had a
line in my chest pumping blood back into me. I had over 6,000 stitches
in one leg and a rod in the other leg that goes from my hip to my knee. I
had multiple blood transfusions and required over 20 units of blood.
Still, my surgeon was amazing and able to repair my nerves, muscle, and
piece my leg back together. None of the nerves in my left leg are
completely repaired, and when I walk too much it swells really big. It's
easy for me to get blood clots, as my lung, stomach, and liver had
collapsed.
Days went by, which felt like months. I was scared. Scared of pain.
Scared of what the future of my life would be. It felt like I barely saw
my parents while I was in the Intensive Care Unit. When people came in
my room, I usually kept my eyes closed. They thought I was asleep, but I
was really listening to all of the bad news. I only remember a few
people seeing me in the ICU, although a ton of people came. My best
friend wouldn't leave my side, and seeing her tears made my heart break,
because I had never seen her cry before. My friend's dad, who stopped
the boat and dove into the water, also visited me. I couldn't talk but I
mouthed "hero" to him for saving my life.
It was so hard not being able to talk. They had a tube down my throat
that was basically breathing for me. I couldn't communicate at all. The
person who I most remember visiting me was someone really special to me.
Someone I was mad at, someone I hurt, someone who hurt me. Our last
words were very hateful, and just seeing their face made me realize
something -- anyone can go away at any second.
I began writing simple words since I couldn't talk. The pain felt like
it was just getting worse. Weeks went by and they moved me to a
different floor. People could visit me any time now, but I still
couldn't move so I spent all day in bed.
I cried most days because I wanted to get out of there. I wanted
something for the pain. I was tired of being their human pin cushion.
Every night they would draw blood, and every three days I had to get a
new IV without being numbed. I was beginning to get bed sores.
I was going crazy, but day by day I started to become more like myself. A
few of the girls from the lake came and saw me, so I decided to play a
little joke on them since I'm such a prankster!
I was in bed, unable to move, and you could barely hear my voice.
Everyone was just standing there looking at me with tears in their eyes.
I hated everyone being so sad. My mom asked me, 'Caitlin, do you know
who these people are?' Yes. 'Do you know their names?' she asked, and I
stuttered, 'Maarrgaret, Nancy, Katiee.' Those weren't my friends' names,
and after everyone looked at my mom like they were about to cry, I
said, 'I'm messing with ya'll!' I just wanted to see them smile!
Days went by, more surgeries happened, and I received a mix of good and
bad news. I was able to transfer to the rehab floor of a hospital I
spent time in before. I had a schedule, and each day I worked my bum
off. I had to learn how to move my legs and walk all over again. They'd
wake me up at 7 in the morning for weight lifting class. Although it got
on my nerves how they'd barge in, turn the bright lights on, and pull
the sheets off of me, I knew this was really important. I asked for five
pound weights, but was told, 'Sweetie, that's too much for you. Let's
go with the one pound weight.' I thought that was really funny.
I had to get a shot in my stomach twice a day. It hurt worse than
getting your blood drawn. I asked the doctor when that would end, and he
said when I started to walk. I was determined to stop those shots, so
each day I'd take a few steps with the walker, slowly improving. Weeks
went by, and I started taking more and more steps.
Finally, I was able to go home after almost three months in the
hospital. I'm still doing physical therapy three times a week, so I'll
be able to walk 100 percent again and gain my strength and muscles back.
I have lymphedema in my left leg, which causes swelling, so I have to
wear this ugly hose. I have no feeling in my left leg because all of my
nerves were cut. I can't walk for distances or my legs shut down. On top
of all of that I have Crohn's disease, bad acid reflux, arthritis, and a
few other things. Still, I continue to push through.
This entire experience has made me a more spiritual person. A lot of you
say, 'There is no possible way anyone could be so close to God.' Well
when you have been through what I have, you become very close. I
guarantee that if it wasn't for God and so many people praying for me,
I'd be dead right now. Yeah, I get frustrated, and sometimes I get mad
and ask, 'Why? Why is this happening?' I am still on the road to
recovery, and there are days when I break down and just want to give up,
but anything is possible with God on your side.
My life completely changed from this accident. I don't like people
looking at me, and saying I'm different because I have ugly scars on my
legs, or I use a wheelchair sometimes. I just want to feel good and not
think about what I can't do anymore. I'm not a cheerleader, tennis
player, horseback rider, and I'm not a straight-A student. I can't live
out my old dreams, or enjoy things I used to love. Things don't come
easily to me anymore -- I work hard just to get out of bed every
morning.
But I believe I went through this for a reason, and God will use me one
day because of it. I hope my accident encourages many other young girls
to persevere through whatever challenges they're facing. It makes me
smile to think that my courage and strength will help so many others to
be strong, too.
while reading this, I just starting cry, omg caitlin is really the strongest girl I ever know :') and oh yeah I got this from http://www.cambio.com/2010/10/18/exclusive-caitlin-beadles-shares-her-emotional-story-of-being-p/
