Just two months later. We were driving in a loaned vehicle while our family car was being worked on in a shop. Again this is early 1980’s, people – no carseats with 5 strap harnesses – (although my mom DID make sure we had carseats) but we were going for such a short drive, that they weren’t transferred to the loaned car. We were taking my sister to dance practice. (What is it with the relationships between dance and my accidents??). We were driving along the main street in our town and I think we were making a left turn. The car we were riding in was a type of roadster with really heavy doors. I’m not sure if it didn’t shut tight enough, or I was being the daredevil I was and played with the handle. Who knows. What I do know is that while we were driving I fell out the passenger side of the door. The car behind us was following really close and didn’t see me fall. She ran over my back and my newly brain injured skull. I have pictures of my back (hopefully I can add them to this post soon). I had bruises up my spine kind of in the shape of her tire tread. Another trip to the Childrens Hospital. They thought I was there because I was having complications from the balcony fall. When they learned this was a new accident, and the nature of it, there was shock, disbelief and I’m sure, a loss of hope.
How can someone recover from that much trauma? Just to be clear I believe in a Heavenly Father, I believe in Angels, I believe in Miracles. I am a living, breathing one myself. And I 1000% believe that I was being watched over through each of these traumatic events and more to come. What’s interesting is that used to have dreams all the time when I was younger about these accidents. That when I fell from the balcony someone below would catch me every time. My other dream was that as I lay on the cold asphalt of the road, just before I was run over, someone laid across my back and protected me from the weight of the car. I had these dreams often enough that they became reality to me.
After both of these accidents my Dad and other Uncles, Grandpas, and Friends laid their hands upon my head, using their Priesthood Power, and my Dad commanded me to get well. Commanded me to come back. And I did. 20 years later my story is still told. We have run into the doctors and nurses that cared for me and that all shake their heads in disbelief. I am 33 years old on Wednesday. I have survived. My life is not very pretty, and I’ve knocked on deaths door many times since those accidents, but I am still here. Still surviving. Still living.
SO where does this whole “Lash Therapy” thing fit it? Oh, you’ll see. And you probably won’t believe how ‘lashes’ can change the course of ones life.
Eye Opening Honesty 