The day that ended my
World Race
(Part 2: The Accident)
As we reached the pier to the main land, I had a transformative moment. I felt like I left the pier one person and came back an entirely new one. I remember seeing people in a new light. I caught myself smiling at a man and woman that were taking pictures on the pier. I prayed that God would show them how much He loved them and that it would deepen their love as a couple. I felt an unfathomable compassion and joy that was inextinguishable. I knew God was with me.
Katie C. and I jumped on our lime green motorbike, keys in my hand, and we were off. We were headed back to our bungalow to share with our teammates all that had happened that day and brag about how beautiful the beach was. As we came to the intersection leaving the pier I stopped; and when it was my turn I inched forward to make a left turn.
Next thing I know, I was lying on the side of the street in this small Cambodian beach town. Katie C. was standing over me, a crowd began to form, and pain began to radiate in my right leg from my waste down to my ankle. I realized I was trapped underneath the motorbike we were just riding.
I wasn’t only trapped, but the back tire was still spinning where my foot was stuck. My heel and ankle were being shredded. Chunks of flesh were missing. My heel was detached and hanging from the rest of my foot. Everyone, including myself was in shock. No screaming, no tears, but in a calm voice I finally was able to mutter the words, “Can you please get the bike off of me. I think I need an ambulance.”
I attribute this calmness to (3) things: adrenaline, my Marine Corps training, and my faith knowing that God was with me.
It seemed like I was lying there for a really long time. Which I may have been, I may not have, I am really unsure. For me, time had stopped. To this day I only have fragments of still shot pictures that I have pieced together, like in the old movies.
I don’t know by whom or when, but the bike was lifted off of me. I remember sitting up, light headed and sick to my stomach. I had to look at the source of where all this blood was coming from; but I knew from the reactions on the faces of those around me that I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.
I took a deep breath in, trying to exhale the pain out with my breath. I inspected my mangled, shredded mess of a foot just enough to know that I needed an ambulance. And I needed one now.
The crowd began to grow larger; policemen began taking pictures of me and my injuries. Which I later found out would be sold to the local newspaper. There was a lot of shouting in Khmer, chaos and confusion consumed me. I remember thinking “God this was not the life change I was asking for.”
When I bring myself back to this moment tears fill my eyes. I had no idea what to do. I knew I needed to get to the hospital but how? I’m in a 3rd world country, with no translator, no phone, sitting on the side of the road holding my leg that was still bleeding out.
“God, help me! I need you! I can’t do this on my own!”
That is when God sent me my angels.
I first heard them, and then I saw them. They looked familiar, but from where? God reminded me that just moments prior He had highlighted them to me on the pier. It was the couple that was taking pictures that I had prayed for. I call them my angels. Their names are Rolf and Deb and they are missionaries in Cambodia.
If you ever doubted that God goes before us, this is proof that He does!
As soon as Deb told me her name, I knew she was sent to me by God. My mother’s name is Debbie. This was God’s way of saying,”Katie my daughter, I have you. No need to worry.” And if there was a hint of doubt left in my mind, Rolf was a Marine. If there is anyone in this world that I could trust to take care of me, it is a fellow Marine. God knew exactly what I needed and He provided that and more.
Rolf and Deb were on a two-day vacation. They told me that they had no plans that day. That they had prayed and asked God to lead them where He wanted them. So they headed down to the pier to take pictures. Just writing this makes the tears fall. If it wasn’t for them and their desire to be where God was working, even while they were on vacation, I don’t know where I would have ended up.
They quickly assessed and took control of the situation. Just like that Katie C. and I now had a translator, a cell phone, and a support system. After some time passed of my angels speaking in Khmer, an ambulance arrived. When I say ambulance I really mean a van with a stretcher rack in the back.
At this point I was in the back of the ambulance. Still no tears. Just confusion and pain. There also may have been a few curse words and punching the ceiling in the van in between prayers.
Rolf and Deb followed the ambulance to the local hospital. They never left our side. Rolf was in the hallway translating and getting me an ambulance to the international hospital in Phnom Penh. Deb was lying across me singing and praying over me while the doctor operated. Her prayers brought comfort to my mind and reminded me that God was in control. Which was vital because local hospitals in 3rd world countries don’t administer pain medication. That meaning, the doctor sanitized, scrubbed, cut, sewed my wounds, and I felt all of it.
My body was exhausted from fighting and I began to go into shock from the pain. I’m not sure what all happened during that time. Later Katie C. came in and was laying on the metal table next to me. We held hands and just thanked God for protecting us and providing for us.
I never once felt alone. Through it all, I knew God was there.
What I didn’t know at the time was that this was only the beginning battle of the war that was to come.
Katie C. and I waiting for the ambulance to arrive to take us to the International Hospital in Phnom Penh.
Preview of Part 3:
I made it to the international hospital in Phnom Penh seven hours after my accident happened. As we arrived I felt relief! “Finally I will be able to receive pain medication”, or so I thought. I quickly found out that medication doses are not universal and are not proportional to American sized bodies. The pain continued.
Through it all, the most painful thing of that day was hearing Katie C. screaming and crying as they cleaned her wounds. I couldn’t help but feel that somehow it was my fault.
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