Cheating death
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I was in the midst of writing another post when, with the gentle nudge from a good friend, I realized that it was not the post I wanted to write.
Maybe “wanted to write” is not the right characterization. Better yet, felt compelled to or needed to write.
As some of you already know, I had a brush with death several days ago. Not a health scare, but a losing-control-of-the-car-on ice scare.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been on a level road with nothing to our left or right. But it was a winding, unpaved single lane, indeed, an unserviced road in cottage country that hugged a rocky hillside on the left, with a steep hill down to a frozen lake on the right.
We had been driving along the lane for several hundred yards before I had second thoughts about our safety. And then suddenly, incredulously, as we hit a flat section of road right before a bend and descending hill, my efforts to brake were met with the Fates saying, “meh, not gonna happen”, and I remember uttering, “Oh shit”. The car suddenly had a mind of its own on the slick ice under a thin layer of snow - slippery enough for the winter tires to just glide over top, unable to grip and going any which way as I steered and braked madly. It was like we were on a carnival ride, but with no controls. Both the man and the dog were in the car with me, the man yelling, “BRAKE!” and the dog in the back, likely digging her nails into the seat and struggling to stay upright. In the split seconds while it was all happening, it occured to me that my worst fear might be realized, crashing between tree trunks on the way down to deep, frozen water. In real life and before we could in fact careen down the cliff, I cranked hard left, and we rode up the rocky hillside, crashing over small trees, the car acting like a tilt-a-whirl on two wheels now. I was anticipating the worst: flipping and rolling down the hill, windows shut, landing in water, sinking, not able to get out, drowning after what would seem like hours, not seconds, of panic, scrambling, yelling, choking, losing consciousness. Death.
I was in charge. It was up to me and me only. I got us into this mess but only I could save us. I was not prepared for this. Prepared for the weight of it. Prepared for what was likely going to happen next. In the car with me were the two beings I love the most and I could barely grasp the impending calamity (I was reminded of my father’s parents, who were in a car accident while his uncle was driving — all three were tragically killed.) All my mind could process was KEEP STEERING AND KEEP BRAKING to save your lives! It was like a fight, the kind of fight that an aging boxer finds himself in - not prepared for the possibility that he could be knocked cold, but knowing full well that his life depended entirely on how much effort he put into this exact moment against his wiley opponent. I was going to do everything in my power to cheat death. It never occured to me then that there could be a higher power sent to protect us. Strange I didn’t feel that, having grown up in a church-y household, where God was mentioned at every dinner, where we gave thanks for the meal that my mother cooked (what did God have to do with it?) and sent to Sunday School to learn about the biblical Jesus. I remember going to services, first with my grandmother, to a “high” Anglican church where incense was used and I would come close to losing consciousness because of the way the smell made me lightheaded. Then being a server at our neighbourhood parish which was, according to my guileful best friend, the best way to cozy up to the cute boys in the choir.
So after cranking left with all my might, and just a split second away from the entire car rolling over, I held onto the steering wheel like it was the reins of a bucking bronco, hearing the sound of branches and trunks and rocks hitting the car and then, suddenly, and with both shock and immense relief, we collided with something that did not budge and finally came to a full and complete stop.
Have you ever done something completely discordant when faced with the sudden climax of a traumatic event? Given the fact that we had all almost been seriously injured or worse, all I could think of was to get out of the car and check the front end for damage. Why? We were alive, we were uninjured. And I was worried about the car? I think in some pragmatic corner of my racing mind I knew that despite being spared from drowning in a watery grave, this car still had to get us out of here. Out of a winding, lakeside road that was still icy and treacherous and that could still claim us - if not in the water then certainly in the car over how many frozen hours I didn’t know.
I realized I was shaking. The dog was upset and happy to get out of the car. The Man was also happy to get out of the car as he told me the last thing he saw out of his side window was the ground. We walked slowly around, surveying the damage or miraculous lack of it, and despite the fact that we had come to a stop within a few feet of our intended destination, we were no longer interested in seeing it. The idea that I would become the owner of a lakeside property that had almost killed us seemed to be, um, tempting fate.
What to do now then? Suffice it to say, it took us just under two hours to get out of there. Reversing, spinning our wheels, my hands still shaking, gunning it until the Man finally got the car up the final icy hill (despite him continuously putting the car in neutral instead of drive - his eyes aren’t what they used to be), with the help of my yelling, “GO GO GO GO!!!” much to the dog’s alarm…and yes, to add insult to injury, my cell phone died just after I punched in the number for CAA.
I remember saying over and over again as I drove us out of there before reaching the safer road, “You’re ok. You’re ok. You’re ok. You’re ok.” It was not only a self-soothing mantra but a way to will the car forward. It took us over three hours to get home; the steering wheel is cockeyed, likely from my cranking or from damage the undercarriage may have sustained, and the following morning, the front driver’s side tire was completely and utterly flat. Not only are we all lucky to have escaped going over the edge, or being injured avoiding the edge, but also lucky to have gotten back home in a car that, as it stands, has unknown damage. We had been on the road for over 7 hours and less than one minute of that had been death defying.
So, what of it?
This was the first time in my life that I felt this level of sudden, all encompassing and inescapable terror. But also the first time in my life that, after having survived this incident through whatever intervention might have taken place, mine or something heavenly, I truly appreciate that I am alive, and will live another day. But also I have become keenly aware that no single day is guaranteed to us. And that we should all begin to really make the most of it. As I’ve heard said, we don’t get a do-over, although we do sometimes get second chances.
So here’s to 2022. Perhaps a year for second chances all round. And as my friend says, “Slow down.”