Sunday, December 12, 2010

Dancing While Injured

"This injury will not keep me off my feet," I told Denise shortly after my near-death experience.  A drunk driver in an F-250 overtook my lane on Interstate 30 just three weeks before.  And he kept going, claiming not to have realized that his trailer swiped my little Mazda 3 into a wall of concrete in the middle of a construction zone.  There was no buffer, other than my car -- and me.

The truck accident that ensued was worse than I could have imagined, even as it was unfolding before me.  After the truck overtook my car, forces spun me out of control and across two lanes of traffic into a tow truck.  My car rolled twice, before coming to rest in the median.  I was unconscious, and later, I was dead.

"They told me I will dance again."

"You better," Denise replied with a tear in her eye.  She's my dancing partner.  My dancing queen.

"It won't be long.  I don't even care if I'm Dancing While Injured."

"And here I thought, after this mess, you'd be against DWI."

We laughed, and laughed, and later... we danced.

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