On a beautiful day in May of 2022, I was driving over to my then girlfriend’s house after a long shift when I was hit by a drunk driver. I was helped within 7 minutes by firefighters, EMT, doctors, a nurse, and police with selfless and kind intentions. But were those intentions an excuse for them to disregard my voice and pain?

After I was hit, I reached for my seatbelt to try to get out, but it was stuck. You can’t see it in the pictures, but the machinery in front of my car imploded inwards, crushing my legs between my front and seat. The seatbelt was stuck as the impact destroyed it. I was in so much pain. I couldn’t do anything but sit and wait for someone to help me.

Two doctors and a nurse who were on the street as it happened rushed to help me. They open the door and ask me if I can move my legs, unbuckle the seatbelt, move my neck, and see them. Crying and in shock, I tell them there is a shooting pain in my lower back and legs every time I move my neck or feet. They ask me to stay calm and argue about what they should do. Amongst the arguing, the police, firefighters, and EMT arrive at the scene. They approach me, and before they even ask me anything, they begin leaning over me to try to unlock my seatbelt. I tell them it is stuck and I need to be cut out. They cut the belt off around me; now it is time to figure out how to get my legs out without causing damage. Long story short, every method they try causes me too much pain. They eventually decide to cut as much of the metal around my legs away until I can pull them up to my chin/chest so I can get out.

They start cutting them metal, and I can feel the release of pressure around my legs, but somehow, that shooting pain becomes even worse with the release of tension. I tell them to stop. They tell me to calm down and that it will be okay. I am pleading with the firefighters and police to stop. They don’t. I’m crying hysterically now. I am told by the police that I am just in shock and that it’s the adrenaline wearing off. I plead and cry, telling them something is wrong as they pull my feet to my chest and carry me out of the car. They lay me in the ambulance, and I told the doctor something was wrong. Once again, I’m told that it’s just because my adrenaline is coming down, so the pain from the impact is at its peak. I keep telling him this isn’t the case. Something is wrong. “They shouldn’t have moved me. Not without stabilizing my back and legs.” Throughout all my cries and complaints, I am told to calm down and that it will be okay.

I’ll meet with a neurologist and orthopedic doctors at the hospital later. They tell me I have irreversible nerve damage in my lower spine. If I’m being honest, I knew. I fucking knew it. I simply look them in the eye and say, “It could’ve been avoided if they hadn’t moved my legs. If they had listened. If they had stabilized me. Couldn’t it?” Their response: “They did the best they could. There is no telling what could’ve happened. Ensuring you got out of the car was the number one priority in case the car went up into flames or if you were bleeding out”. I didn’t say anything.

Over a year later, I have physical therapy, dozens of unused medications, and thousands of dollars in hospital visits. I constantly feel pain in my hip, lower back, and legs. I live in a constant battle of “They did what they could and only intended to help me.” and a state of rage for my complaints and pain being ignored and costing me my mobility. Why does it take physical and mental impairment/disability for women’s voices to be heard? It’s ridiculous.