There wasn’t a minute to spare in my hectic life as a single mother and sales rep. That morning I dropped the kids at school and sped off to meet a client, not even bothering to fasten my seat belt.
My wheels slid on a slippery spot. My car was headed for an oncoming pickup! God, help me!
We collided head-on. The impact knocked my head into the windshield, then threw me back. The car spun and came to a stop under a tree. My knee was bleeding, but it didn’t hurt as badly as my neck. I brought a shaky hand up to touch it.
“Don’t move!” The order came from the backseat. “Does your neck hurt?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
“Don’t be afraid,” the man said. “I’m a doctor.” I couldn’t turn around, but his deep, kind voice calmed me. He put his warm hands on my neck. Bracing his thumbs against the base of my head, he moved my head up and forward. There was a pop. The pain vanished.
EMTs pried open the door. They carefully got me out of the car and laid me on a stretcher. “Where is the doctor who was in my backseat?” I asked. “No one was in there,” an EMT said. “The doors are jammed shut.”
X-rays at the hospital showed my neck needed no further treatment. Today I give thanks for that “doctor” every time I get into the driver’s seat—right after I fasten my safety belt.
