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Later this year I'll mark the ten year anniversary of my life-changing accident. Over the last couple of weeks, I've been reflecting back over the last decade - in absolute awe of how much has come to pass.

I need to confess that at times I feel like I live a Forrest Gump kind of life. Fate and the Universe have been kind to me. Others have been taken out of the game of life by less than I've walked through.

Who ever would have guessed that it took a brain injury to begin a new path as an author - something I only dreamed about for so many years.

??????????, ??????????????, ??????????.

In the years since my accident, my work has been published four times in different Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I say this not to boast, but rather to share that the biggest limitations are the ones we put on ourselves.

In 2016, ?????????????? ???????? ?????? ?????? ????????: ?????? ?????????? ???? ?????????????????? was released. I was tickled when they let me know that my submission as to be included.

I want to share with you, ?????? ?? ?????????? ??????????????????, the story that Chicken Soup published.

Peace.

~David

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He almost killed me back in 2010. But if I saw him today, I would most likely give him a hug.

And thank him.

Having a near-death experience does tend to change your outlook on the world.

An endurance cyclist for many years, I was out cycling on a typical late fall day in central New England. It was one of those days that most likely drove Robert Frost to write. In fact, I was only a few miles from his birthplace when my life took a bit of an unexpected turn.

Strike that. It was more of an unexpected crash.

No one gets up in the morning wondering if the day will wind down with an ambulance ride and a trip to the nearest trauma center.

But on November 11, 2010, that was to be my fate.

Local authorities estimate that the teenage driver who broadsided me was moving along somewhere between 30 – 40 MPH when we met. He was in a small car – I was on my trusty bike.

When car hits cyclist in a battle of metal vs. metal, the cyclist rarely wins.

Rushed by ambulance across state lines to the nearest trauma center, my wife Sarah following the ambulance, not knowing the condition of her husband, our two vehicle convoy came roaring into the ER. The impact was violent, it was horrific and it was painful. The windshield of the car that hit me was pushed right into the passenger’s seat. A first responder later shared that anyone in that seat would have been gravely injured.

Thank God for not-so-small miracles.

My injuries were extensive. Broken bones, torn tendons, and head-to-toe bruises.

For the next several days, my wife pulled shards of glass from my head.

And the icing on this accident cake? A traumatic brain injury.

A medical professional, a full year after that November day, let me know in no uncertain terms that my life would never be the same. In fact, he labeled me “permanently disabled.”

It’s been several years since that fated day – the most difficult years, the most glorious years, and the most unexpected years of my life. As predicted, my bruises faded from black to yellow to gone. My bones mended, and the visible signs of my accident faded from the public eye.

But living with a traumatic brain injury, well… to say that life has become a challenge would be an understatement of truly epic proportion. A hale and hearty case of PTSD only added to the mix.

Many things that I used to take for granted, things like knowing the day of the week, what season we are in, or even how to read, have become challenges.

I hold no bitterness toward the young man who careened into me. To hold any bitterness, animosity or resentment bars me from moving forward in my own life. Everyone has “stuff.” If you have a heartbeat, life has thrown you a curveball or two. It’s part of our shared human experience.

I’ve seen close friends lose parents.

And children.

Many I know battle life-threatening or life-changing chronic illnesses.

And some of us get hit by cars at the prime of our lives.

The biggest question is this: Will I let my life experience, no matter how painful, pull me down or lift me up?

I’ve seen many who choose to be beaten by life’s hardships. They wander around, melancholy at what they’ve lost, willing to tell their own tale of woe to anyone who will listen.

Thanks, but no thanks. I choose to be grateful.

Life is indeed for the living. It has taken me many years to come to grips with the fact that life as I knew it is gone. This was not an overnight process. There were peaks and valleys, wonderful days and months defined by ever-present thoughts of suicide.

But out of every season of living when fate seemed harsh, new lessons were learned and new strength was found.

Life today is vastly different than I ever envisioned. Most of my time these days is spent advocating for those impacted by traumatic brain injury. From one-on-one working with others who share my fate to multiple keynote presentations at medical conferences, the life that I live today simply astounds me.

I have emerged as a new person with a new mission. My experience as a brain injury survivor has made me uniquely qualified to serve others. My written work about life as a true survivor has been read around the world. I have been blessed with many opportunities to share my story of hope and inspiration with groups large and small. How can I not be grateful?

On occasion, I think about the young man who forever changed my life. Initially he impacted just one life. But the events that unfolded that day have now touched the lives of tens of thousands.

Sometimes I wonder how my life might have unfolded had I chosen to hold on to anger, to not forgive the young man who has unknowingly affected the lives of so many. Had I chosen that path, misery and discontentment would now define my life. This I know as surely as I breathe as I have seen others who have not been able to let to, to forgive, to move on. They live in constant misery.

And the young man who started me on this new, wondrous path of discovery, what ever happened to him?

Humbly I must admit that I tracked him down on Facebook a while ago. If his page is any reflection of his life, he is a student at a local college and moving forward in his life. I remained transparent in my quest to search him out. It is my hope that he rarely thinks about that fall day so many years ago.

And the one time that I did meet him face-to-face in the weeks following my accident...

What did I do?

If you guessed that I gave him a hug, you are correct.

# # #

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