I was fresh out of high school working at a printing facility on third shift. The morning of September 10th 2001 I was called into my bosses office he asked me to work a double shift and I just couldn't. He threatened to fire me and I told him I would think about the overtime and we would talk tomorrow. I got onto my motorcycle and started home. Less than a mile from my work I hit a pot hole at 75 mph. It split my front rim and crashed my bike. I was taken to the hospital I had a massive concussion as well as back and neck injuries. My back was pretty shredded too. I had also shattered my fullface helmut from one earlobe to the other. If I had not been wearing a full face helmut I would have not have been able to be visually identified in the morgue. That's what the paramedics and the doctor told me.
I was told I would need to go to physical therapy and ease back to walking. My boss called me at 5:30 that evening and said "I heard about your accident. Are you able to work?" I said "no. I'm going to have to take a medical leave for a few weeks. I'm sorry." he called me a a--hole and fired me. I was cleared to go home at 6:20 in the morning of September 11th. I asked my mother to have my best friend and his uncle who had a truch to pick me up and help me get my bike from the junk yard.
We reached the junk yard around 9:00 maybe earlier. We walked in and some old guys were playing cards with the tv on in the background. The newscaster came on and announced that a plane hit the world trade center. I still had morphine in my system and even though everyone in the office thought it was a horrible accident I was sick to my stomach and couldn't shake a strong feeling of fear.
We got back to my best friends house and they unloaded what was left of my bike. And they helped me inside. My best friends dad (who was a father figure to me also) was watching the news coverage. We asked him what they said and he said they think it was terrorists. We all stood (I sat in my wheelchair) and watched in silence.
The second plane hit.
I look at my best buddy and said "well at least I'm not getting drafted". It was a sad attempt at humor but like I said I still had morphine in my system.
We continued to watch in shock of the potential consequences of this situation.
After my rehab I decided to do a volunteer comforting work for two years. The events of 9/11 changed the USA and changed the world in one way or another. I have had job issues ever since because of my career choices. I wasn't sure how to live in this new world.
I don't want to go any further because I will violate rule 5
Let YOUR utterance be always with graciousness, seasoned with salt, so as to know how you ought to give an answer to each one.
Colossians 4:6
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