By Macy Weddle
Many times in your lifetime, you will hear “Don’t take anything for granted.” This statement is extremely powerful, for the reason that you don’t quite fully understand until you’re the one saying it. Walking, talking, and even breathing are all things people take for granted. I used to be one of those people. I went my whole life having few to no problems, but one split-second decision changed everything.
As a child who was raised in the country, the things I grew up doing weren’t exactly legal. I’ve been driving 4-wheelers since I was 4. Even when I was still practically a toddler, I never once crashed. I was always responsible and careful.
After we moved out of the country I would still occasionally ride at my grandparents’ house. They have a beautiful meadow and wooded area that is great for riding. Many times out of the year, my dad would take my brother and I over there to hang out. You would rarely see me, though. I would be on the trails for hours and would need to be forced to come back inside. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, every holiday I was out there. Listening to music, feeling the wind in my hair, always with a smile on my face.
August 27th, it was Sunday and as routine, my brother and I were waiting for my mom to pick us up from my dad’s. She’s known to be early so we usually talk in the living room before she eventually pulls in. My dad had been telling us about his upcoming golf trip the next Monday. That conversation led to him telling us that we wouldn’t be doing our usual Wednesday night dinners due to my brother’s busy tennis schedule and my daily driver’s education class. Since this would mean we wouldn’t see him for a few weeks, we decided to visit my grandparents’ house the next Sunday for a cookout.
Of course, the first thing that came to my mind was riding the 4-wheeler. That week, everything seemed to be going great for me. I finished my driver’s education class on Friday and even hung out with a friend after. Saturday morning my mom picked me up and we went and picked out the perfect dress for homecoming.
Sunday, September 3. I packed for my dad’s, thinking I was going to be staying the night there, not in the hospital. During the somewhat lengthy drive to my grandparents’ house, I was listening to music, making TikToks, and annoying my brother and dad as usual.
Once we were there I was eager to go out and ride, but my dad insisted I wait until after we ate and communed with the rest of my family. Once he finally reluctantly got the ATV from the back of his truck I put my airpods in and rode for about an hour and a half before my grandma flagged me over and advised me to slow down. Being the defiant person I am, I reminded her that I’ve never crashed and that I wasn’t going to.
About 45 minutes later I was driving through the meadow going a minimum of 20 mph. Not expecting there to be any obstacles in an open meadow, I decided to look away from the direction I was going. When I put my eyes back on my path I immediately saw a large pile of sticks.
Out of panic, I jolted my steering to the right and I ended up under the 900-pound 4-wheeler, using only my adrenaline rush and shock to push it off of me. Once I had escaped from under the ATV I called my dad hysterically crying. My brother came running from the wooded area after overhearing the conversation on my dad’s phone. And the look of extreme worry and panic on his face was enough to make me cry every last bit of my make-up off.
As the adrenaline wore off, it turned to immediate pain. I couldn’t feel anything from my lower waist down to my feet. The next thing I knew, my aunt was behind me supporting my back as I was being rightfully scolded by my dad. Since he wasn’t aware of the severity of the situation, this was a completely appropriate way to react. If I’m being honest I don’t remember much of what he, or anyone for that matter, said or asked me while I was lying there.
Less than 20 minutes later we heard the ambulance sirens. Once loaded into the vehicle I focused on counting the bolts on the ceiling while I was having IVs put into me, my blood pressure being checked, and other vitals being taken. Tear after tear rolled down my cheek as I was being asked countless questions.
It seemed like a lifetime before I was rolled into the trauma unit at the hospital, and all I could think about was seeing my mom, hearing her voice, and feeling her comforting touch as she caressed my face and tears fell from her eyes. She held me as my clothes were cut off and seven or more doctors surrounded me. It was all a blur.
The only clear memory is looking into her eyes and her telling me “Everything is going to be okay baby.” Over and over she told me, “Everything is going to be okay baby”.
Once transferred to Methodist Hospital, I was told I had a broken hip, multiple breaks in my pelvis, and a few fractures. Once in a room, I was told I was going to need surgery. Over the course of the next 24 hours, five doctors and nurses came in going back and forth between saying I was going to need surgery and also saying I wasn’t.
On day 2 it was finally decided that I wasn’t going to have surgery, at that moment at least. On Wednesday, September 6, I woke up feeling very nauseous. I ended up throwing up about five times that day and was told I seemed very ‘out of it’. We later found out that I had been accidentally overdosed on my nightly medications by a nurse.
Hearing from my parents about how I looked and acted, aches my heart trying to imagine what was going through their minds. Luckily the next few days went better and I was given the correct amount of medication.
On the morning of Friday, September 8,I told my mom that I was going to aim to get up and around so that I could be discharged. She said that she didn’t want me to put too much pressure on myself. I insisted that I was going to be discharged and she then said “Okay Macy, prove me wrong.” So that is exactly what I did.
I got up in a chair and was able to walk with a walker and get up and down the steps. I was discharged from the hospital at around 6:20 p.m. Friday. After about a week, we went to IU Health Ball Hospital for x-rays, and then back to Methodist for results. I was told that my hip seems to be healing correctly but my pelvis seems to have been shifted. This also meant it could cause future problems if I were to give birth. We were told that we would need to come back in two weeks for a definitive answer on surgery.
I went back to school after fall break with some restrictions, but I thank God every day that I was lucky enough for my crash to not have been fatal like so many others.
To the person who is reading this, if you take anything away from this, I wish for you to always pay attention and never take anything in your life for granted. Especially the people in it. Adjusting to my new normal is going to be difficult, yes, but I choose to see the positives. My life isn’t ruined, just rerouted. It may change many things in my future but as a strong woman told me “Everything is going to be okay baby.”
