I've had more than a second chance at life. In fact, I've had many. My first brush at death was when I was in my early twenties. I was a bartender and after work we would all meet up at a planned destination. Then we would drink. Back then, that's what we did.

After one of our party's, I got into my car to start the hour drive home. My car didn't have a heater so the cold is probably what kept me moving as long and far as I did. Somewhere down the road, about fifteen miles, I lost control of my car. It happened right where a deer crossing sign was so that's what kept me from getting a DUI, plus I had a good lawyer.

Anyway, my uncle, who lived close, had heard the crash and was the first one on the scene. He didn't even recognize me. And still didn't know until the next day when he heard that it was me who had been in an accident. My father and brother were at home listening to their CB scanner that picked up on all of police activity and going ons. They were placing bets with each other to see how long it would take the fire department to get the screaming girl that was pinned under the car out. Gasoline and oil were dripping on my face and head so they needed to move fast. My arm was pinned under the car and the firefighters were having a difficult time getting me out from under it. They didn't want my little Dodge car to blow since the gas and fumes were all around.

The firefighters were having a difficult time, not even the jaws of life worked. So when a new passerby stopped to see what was going on said "why don't we just pick up the car and get her out that way?" It must have been a good suggestion because it worked. I was finally on my way to the emergency room. I don't remember any of this although they said I was talking and crying for my mother.

At the scene of the accident, only one shoe was found. My pantie hose were found in a tree down the road. No one knows how that happened. Sure, I had burns and skid marks where I had slid down the highway. They think my car rolled 4 or 5 times and apparently I was rolling with it since I was under it when it finally came to a stop.

I stayed in the hospital for over two weeks with a bad head injury and burns all over my body. I was told that I was really lucky to have come out of it alive. I'm missing a part of my little finger from gangrene. This happened because my arm was under the car for over a half an hour and no oxygen got to it so it died. But that's nothing compared to what might have been. I'm very lucky.

My second brush with death was when I had surgery for lung cancer. Most of my right lung was removed and three months later, I had surgery for breast cancer. I was lucky, that only had to take part of it.

I'm now fighting polycethemia vera and severe depression. Johns Hopkins also diagnosed me with fibromyalgia. (sp) Everyday is difficult. I'm at a point in my life that some days I don't want another chance at life. I'm just not sure why I'm still here.

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