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Join date: Sep 5, 2020
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I live in Missouri, however, I am originally from Storrs, CT. By way of introduction I will share the story behind how I became and amputee.

I am Scooter Trash, if you don't know what that is, you wouldn't understand. We just recently came up on my personal, "Day of Infamy" anniversary; August 19/2011 21:00 hours CST. It was at that moment I met Seth Hamilton who would forever change my life.  The meeting took place on State Route 14 just east of Ozark, MO at the junction of 14 & State Route W. I was riding Eastbound on 14 headed toward Sparta, MO just after dark; I had two vehicles in front of me. At the junction of 14& W the Eastbound 14 roadway drops just a tad before it meets W. As I crested this little rise, I saw headlights stopped on W. When the two vehicles ahead of me passed Seth Hamilton, he pulled out in front of me. "Oh crap!" thought I, what to do? to the right is a ditch, no go, in front of me is a T-Bone meeting with Mr. Hamilton; not an option. My mind flashed to Chappy and Gene, both had T-boned boneheads that pulled out in front of them; both went airborne; Chappy got up, Gene we buried. My only possible out, in the spit second I had to decide, was the Westbound lane of 14, where if my guardian angel was fast enough to clear a path; I could get around Mr. Hamilton and away. We met approximately at the center East/West dividing line. Mr. Hamilton's blue Dodge pickup plowed into yours truly; down I went and rag-doll decelerated with the bike on my heels from about 45mph to dead stop. I landed in a ditch on the Northside of 14, fully conscious, with my head East, my nose South. I could look the eight feet up to the 14 roadway and see the occasional Westbound vehicle passing by.  My first thought after the initial shock and awe wore off a bit, was to notify 911. I don't know why, but I argued with myself about initiating the call, 911 was only for emergencies, duh, well, the other driver was calling 911, he wasn't as he had driven off leaving yours truly to die; of course I had no way of knowing that at the time. I finally thought that it doesn't matter how many calls they got, as long as somebody responded; Ok, I could accept that. I was wearing a ratty, old leather coat that I had purchased at the Disabled American Veterans thrift store for five bucks. I believe that is what kept my cell phone, a Motorola Star Tac, in my left breast pocket. My left arm was the only thing I could move as my injuries were: crushed right leg which was later amputated above the knee, a shattered right arm, a punctured lung and I was bleeding out due to the compound fracture of my right femur, among other things. I was able to get my fingers under the chin strap and pull off the helmet, fish around in my pocket, retrieve my phone and dial 911. When I made connection with the dispatcher, I couldn't keep my head up any longer due to the discomfort so I laid the phone on the ground and put my head down on it. It took the first responders nearly an hour to locate me. I told dispatch that I was in the ditch on the Northside of the junction of Highways 14&W. They first dispatched Ozark PD who determined that I was out of their jurisdiction and broke off the response. Whoever they got to get out there to respond, was driving a vehicle with a diesel engine, I could hear the engine and would report based on the sound, I think they're East of me, I think they're West of me. Finally they got the idea to roll down 14 in the Westbound lane with their spotlight on and located me. I believe that it was a God thing that I am still alive today, if I did not have or had lost my cell, I would be dead. If the battery had run down in the hour it took to find me, I probably would have died, If I had bled out enough to loose consciousness, I would have died, If I had gone into debilitating shock, I would have died. Fast forward to the present, I am now a RAKA cripple. I NEED handicapped parking. If I cannot swing my driver's door completely open, I can neither exit nor enter the vehicle. I am plated, I have a certain disdain for the blue, hang-tag crowd, the ones who are fully ambulatory, no oxygen concentrator, no cane, no signs of disability whatsoever, who upon claiming a handicapped spot, jump out of their vehicle and jog into the store. I guarantee you they are either using grandma's tag or are gaming the disability parking system. So then guys like me roll up and there are no handicapped spots. Tough nuggies crip.   It is painful for me to even walk, if you have never had a prosthetic, believe me, you don't want one. The rigid bucket socket for what is left of my right leg pinches and chafes me constantly up in the nether regions. When I slide into the truck to drive, the socket attempts to castrate me. Fun city.  Anyhow in spite of familial nagging not to, I try to utilize the electric carts at Walmart. Good luck with that, there hardly ever is one available as the fully ambulatory good citizens, (no oxygen concentrator, cane, or other assistive devices) who just don't wish to be bothered with walking, have snapped them up. Don't believe me? Y'all know it's true, because y'all have seen it too; you know the ones, with their Mountain Dew hung like Christmas ornaments off the side of the basket and the basket filled with Doritos and Pop Tarts. No worries about me as this country boy can survive; in life you are either a survivor or a victim. If I was the latter, my bones would more than likely be bleaching out

in the ditch on 14. Be careful out there.




David
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