Well it is never easy to tell my story but I think it helps me to “release” it. I will first tell you about my self today and then I will work my way backwards. My chat name that you know me by is (lisacap) the cap stands for civil air patrol, which I use to be involved in with my children. My actual name is Lisa Webster, I am 36 and my birthday is in February so I am almost 37. I am married to a wonderful guy named Phil, it is my second marriage and we have been married 8 years. I have two daughters (both from my first marriage) my oldest is Mellissa, she is almost 15, she is a beautiful young lady and is so much like me it is scary. My youngest is Courtney she is 12 and is a very active happy girl; she acts in school and civic theater plays and has a voice like a little song bird. They both are in cheerleading and keep me very busy. My parents live about 3 miles from me, they have always been such a source of strength for me, always supportive and never waver in there love for me, I would truly be lost without them. I have a older brother and sister, they are 9 and 11 years older than me, so yes I am the baby of the family and I like it that way, he he he. My accident happened 20 years ago, September 16 1984, I was only 16 years old and had just started my junior year of High school. It was a beautiful September Sunday. I had been sick with a cold all weekend and I was bored, I had taken medicine, taken a nap and worked on homework. I decided I wanted a break and was going to go to the local Burger King; it was the hangout for kids I knew. I headed out against my mothers wishes (she thought I should still be resting) I left the driveway and headed east on Lakewood Blvd. I was going about 60 mph in my 1977 white sporty Chevy Monza. I approached 160^th ave. I looked down at my radio for a second to change the station, I didn’t like the song that was on, it was “hard habit to break” by Chicago. That song is forever a “trigger” for me to this very day. I felt a jolt, looked up and I was hitting another car. He had run the stop sign going 50 mph. I couldn’t do anything to prevent it, it just happened to fast. I caught a quick glimpse of his blue eyes. I hit him in his driver’s side, right behind his seat. I went right through his car; I cut it into two pieces. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I took the steering wheel in my abdomen and actually bent it back. I slammed my head and face into the windshield, I hit it more than once. I broke the rearview mirror off the windshield with the back of my head. The whole thing seemed to go on forever, it was in slow motion and it was so loud and yet it was so silent at the same time. When my car finally came to a rest I was pinned. The engine had come inside the car and was resting on my legs. I remember not being sure what just happened and I felt like no one was going to come and help us then all of a sudden people started appearing. The first man however showed up alone and arrived at my car, he talked so soft and gentle to me. He told me I would be fine and he promised. He gently rubbed my hand. Later I was told no one saw a man at my car, that a volunteer fireman had been the first to get to me. I remember him also but he was not the first to come to me. I am convinced that the first man was my guarding angel and know one will ever convince me otherwise. The accident happened just about one mile from my house and it was right in front of a friend’s house. She recognized my car and called my parents. They came right away and I can still hear my mom screaming my name over and over as she ran to my car. I asked the police officer who was knelt down by me, to please stop her; I didn’t want her to see me, because I knew it was bad. I could see all the blood. He tried but she got through anyway, she looked so white, it was confirmed, I was right, it was bad, very bad. They only sent one ambulance and there wasn’t time for the other guy or myself to wait for another. They loaded us both into the same ambulance and my dad road along up in front. He still says that was the worst day of his life and that what he saw going on in the back was Horrid. The “other guy” was injured so bad. He had severe chest and abdomen injuries. His chest was an open sucking chest wound and he was trying desperately to breath. Every time he tried it made this high pitch screech sound. He was thrashing around so frantically and kept trying to grab his throat and had blood throwing all over the ambulance. The paramedics kept yelling at him to calm down, I kept thinking "my god he can't breath what do you expect" and they eventually tied his arms down. Oh god, I can see it all. It was unbelievable. My leg hurt so bad and I remember saying I couldn’t see out of my eye  they told me it was from my blood running into it. My dad says he thought he was going to watch his daughter die right in front of him. My blood pressure dropped out and I don’t remember much else till we got to the hospital. They took the guy in first and then me. I woke up and I was in a trauma bay. I felt so sick to my stomach; I kept saying I was going to vomit. The lights seemed to be waving back and forth. The nurses said they were not moving, that it was my head injury making it seem that way. Oh all the x-rays, needles, medical people poking and moving me. My god it hurt so badly. I was in and out of consciousness and I guess the police officer thought I was “out” when he came in to my trauma area and told my dad he believed I might know the “other guy” because we went to the same school. He said he was 17 and was a senior at my high school. He said his name was JAMIE BECKSVOORT and that he “didn’t make it” he died a few moments ago during surgery. Oh my God!! I did know him, he was a school friend. I had known him since I was in the 6^th grade. How could it be? I absolutely lost it. I had killed my friend, he had run the stop sign but it was my car that killed him. It was HELL after that, I had to go back to school where his friends wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me. They said it wasn’t because they blamed me but it just hurt them. I took it as blame; after all I was only 16. That is where the survivor’s guilt, which I have today, comes from. It was also hard at school when it came to academics, my whole thought process had changed but there was no help for me, no understanding on the part of the school or my teachers. I eventually lost most of my friends. I had changed, my personality was different, and I guess they had a hard time with that. I also didn’t feel like a kid anymore. I had seen too much, been through to much to view the world through the innocent eyes of a kid anymore. Well life goes on; I am happy today and enjoy my family. I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder though and it does cause me great distress. I have flashbacks, I hear sounds of the accident, and I smell the blood and the car fluids. Sometimes I wake up and I can’t get them out of my nose. I see Jamie in my car sometimes. I see him in my house and I see him in my dreams. I know it is the PTSD and that it is in my head, the visions don’t last long, a few seconds or so but it is an ongoing thing and gets distressing at times. It is hard to talk about it with people because they don’t understand, they can’t understand and I worry that if I say too much about it they will become worried about me or become uncomfortable around me. So I just pretty much keep it in except for the little bits I share with them from time to time. I choose to not be very social. My cognitive thinking was affected by the head injury; my injury was defined to my parents as front left lobe damage, slight skull fracture and multiple concussions. My short term memory was affected. Well Jamie got the worse though. I visit his grave each year on our accident anniversary date to say how sorry I am and I have dedicated each happy occasion (the birth of my children, my weddings etc.) to him because I have always felt so bad that he was cheated out of those things. I have always wondered why he was the one taken, after all we were in the same stage in life and if anything he was a better person that I was. He was a very strong Christian and a kind young man. I guess it is just the way things go. Ok well I made it through telling my story. Thank you for taking the time to read it. It means a lot to me, and I am telling it on behalf of Jamie as well, because it is really “our” story.

Best of wishes, LISA