Personal Narrative: My Car Ride

The car ride back from the hospital is terrifying. Half of me wants to shut my eyes to block out the city that is whirring past me; the other half is too scared. This is the first time I have been in a car since my accident. I always heard that the first ride is the hardest; I always laughed at the cliché things the doctors said to me. "It 's okay to cry." they said. "It will be hard." they said. I am certainly not laughing anymore. The seatbelt seems too heavy on my delicate new skin and I adjust it for comfort. My mom glances back at me anxiously. I told her that she needed to forget about me, that all I cared about was going back home safely. I wanted to go home, which was another thing. Home is not where I am going. Home is where my brother and father are. They are not going to be there though, they died in the fiery car crash that left me able to walk, able to talk, and able to breathe. I tell myself that I need to be thankful for these three things. Sometimes I wish I was with them.

When people came to visit me, they always told me how lucky I am, how I am so lucky to be able to walk, able to talk, able to breathe the air of the …show more content…
While they ran around the gym, I was working out my brain. I did math equations until I thought my brain could not contain the numbers. I repeated the same phrase over and over to myself in the mirror, relearning my native language. I knew that I could not make them love me, but that I could choose not to hate them. When my anxiety kept me up, I read medical research papers. I memorized the formula of every medication I took and wondered if I could find a new way. I searched and searched until I could find the answers. I was going to do something with my life. I was going to make it count for people like me. During my month at the hospital, my doctors said to me over and over "Your life matters. The paramedics saved you for a