A year ago today I took the day off work. My father and I go on our motorcycles and rode towards the mountains. We were almost there and my last thought before my life changed was "oh shit, I'm gonna hit that guy?!". Next thing I new was a horrible scream that sounded like someone was about to die; I wanted to help but when I took a breath the scream stopped. I realized I was the one screaming.
I was hurt badly but the first person I see was my father. My family. I knew two things right then. The first I told my father, I turned to him and said "don't tell mom". The second I kept to myself but it was "I have to fight and I have to live". My family was with me when I got hit and my friends (EMTs, nurses, and doctors) kept up the fight with me, and my family was still there the whole way.