So here it is: I’m in a documentary film. A documentary film about my life and my life with limb loss.
Friday’s filming took me back to my accident scene. Back to a memory that stops with me leaving my friend’s house; looking down the driveway slope; looking both ways; and crossing the street. Then nothingness.
I looked at the blacktop and saw my six year old self with my mom at my side, surrounded by our neighbors and friends.
My mom was in Friday’s filming. Her recollection is now my recollection. I never knew that someone put a blue blanket on my legs. I never knew that I was so close to home. And I never knew that the truck driver stood behind the truck – throwing up.
As I stood there, I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for my brother who ran home yelling that “some dumb truck hurt Leslie”. Gratitude that my dad followed my ambulance as we went to three different hospitals that was equipped to save my life. And gratitude for my mom’s encouraging persistence that I sing “Jesus Loves Me” to remain conscious, to stay alive.
When asked why I’m doing the film, I said “it’s time”. It’s time to toss aside this mask of stoicism behind which I hide. It’s time to hide no more and to show the world one face that has a story worth sharing.
I’m one in million but how selfish would I be to keep my story inside? It’s about sharing this gift so other similarly situated people can live a better life. Be the good.