The Day the World Changed: Creating Life After a Near-Death Experience | Take the Back Roads

This letter discusses a serious accident and recovery, shared with gratitude and hope.

Dear Henry,

Do you ever struggle with those things that never really go away, the hurts that fade but never quite disappear, no matter how much time, prayer, or hope you give them?

Some scars are loud. Others hide quietly under the skin. But with age, both have a way of making themselves known again.

I wasn’t supposed to survive the accident.

It happened shortly before noon on March 25, 1998. A man, desperate, strung out, and driving a stolen car, tried to outrun the police. I happened to be crossing the street.

The reports indicate the car was traveling between 35 and 40 miles per hour when it struck me. I remember almost nothing from that moment, but the aftermath stayed with me for years.

My left leg was crushed. My ribs and hip were shattered. There were surgeries, metal pins, a long recovery, and a great deal of pain. During one of those surgeries, the doctors rebuilt the bones in my leg using a piece of my hip. They didn’t think I’d live through the night — but I did.

And somewhere between the surgeries and the physical therapy, life kept happening. My husband and I discovered we were expecting a baby, and despite a difficult pregnancy and a tiny two-pound newborn who arrived far too soon, both of us survived.

The years that followed were full and busy. I went back to work. I ran half marathons. I raised my family. I lived. But damage has a way of catching up with you, and eventually, mine did. The accident left me with muscle loss, nerve damage, and a limp that grows more pronounced when I’m tired. My left arm remains weak, and I lean a little more heavily on trekking poles than I used to.

These days, my body insists on rest. My evenings end early, and I nap more often than I’d like. But I am still here — and that, Henry, feels like grace.

The accident changed the road beneath my feet, but it didn’t end my journey. It redirected it. I traded the corporate world for writing, photography, and slower mornings. I found new joy in stillness and new meaning in the quiet.

So while I may walk a little slower now, I see more along the way.

In the end, Henry, I’ve learned that the things we survive shape the way we see the world. And though I carry a few scars and walk a little crooked, I am still grateful for the view.

xoxo,

a.d. elliott

P.S. The accident changed more than my body — it changed my pace, my purpose, and how I see the world.

These days, I take the back roads, travel a little slower, and spend my time collecting the stories and books that give life meaning.

You can read more in Take the Back Roads: Philosophy and explore my growing Library for the Apocalypse.

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a.d. elliott is a wanderer, photographer, and storyteller living in Salem, Virginia. 

In addition to her travel writings at www.takethebackroads.com, you can also read her book reviews at www.riteoffancy.com and US military biographies at www.everydaypatriot.com

Her online photography gallery can be found at shop.takethebackroads.com

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