It’s no big secret that I was in a car accident with Jack driving last year. I at least know for a fact that all of my friends noticed my sudden unannounced absence when we were supposed to have our senior year together. At the end of the day, that's why it'd called an accident. Nobody ever plans on having an event like this. It's not like planning a vacation in Europe or the beaches on a coast or countless other places you'd actually want to visit. I mean, who plans a 4 month stay stuck in a hospital bed?
Before the accident, I had never sat on my bed and thought about how lucky I was to be able to play piano in the attics for friends to all sing along to, have short-term memory, sit, walk, or talk. There wouldn’t really be a reason for me to suddenly sit down and be thankful for basic abilities in life. After the accident however, I am definitely much more grateful for these things. That’s what 5 weeks in a coma, being told that we might have to build a wheelchair ramp on the stairs up to our front door, and several months of being unable to sit up straight or walk without assistance will do to a person.
Oh, and let's not forget my loss of memory! My brain essentially used a Wite-Out dispenser and completely erased my memories around the time of the accident (and part of my ability to form new memories). My short-term memory was god-awful following the accident. For example, I would eat my breakfast in the hospital and my parents would usually visit me as soon as they could. They would ask me things about how my day had been (usually asking 1. what I had done the whole day and 2. what I had eaten during the day, etc). I could usually tell them what I had done during the day since there isn't actually that much you can do when you're confined to a hospital bed. I could watch tv and movies for most of the day and eat when it’s time to. But oftentimes, I would have no recollection of what I had eaten for breakfast the same morning since the food options change daily.
While people were still visiting me while I was still in the hospital (and even after I'd been discharged), several people asked if I am now scared to be a passenger in a car when someone else is driving, and also said that the experience must have been extremely painful. But to be completely honest, I do not remember any fear right before the truck was about to collide with the tree or any pain when I was smashed into that tree and pinned in the wreckage (though I'm sure it must had been extraordinarily painful). I believe that this is for the better. If there's anything I've taken away from the accident, it's the lesson that we should all be much more appreciative of all the things we currently possess.
The accident definitely changed me as a person and my outlook on life, but I’d like to think for the better. After the accident, it occurred to me that most of us as human beings don’t take the time to appreciate and/or be thankful for what we have at the moment. To quote Passenger in the song Let Her Go, “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Most of us as human beings only appreciate things when they’re gone. The first examples of this that come to mind are artists, both the musical kind and those who present their skills on canvas. Why is it that it will sometimes take their death to really boost their value and popularity? I understand the argument of "Well, we appreciate them then because we know we'll never be able to see/hear their art/music again." But when the artist has died, they're not around to appreciate whatever ceremonies or celebrations we throw for them. If you're religious, then perhaps they're smiling up in heaven. But what if you're not? So, to wrap it up in a pretty pink bow, we need to start appreciating the things we have at the current moment.
