Jane is Hit by a Truck

Wednesday morning opened with the sort of news nobody likes to receive:

Hi Alison,

I wanted to let you and the Wed. group know that I won't be there tonight and update you on my latest drama - it's always something with me. Last week-end Casey and I went to Palm Springs. On Friday, I was riding my bike and was struck by a car making a left as I was crossing a street in a crosswalk...

Jane

Jane 

Who is Jane? She is a member of Long Beach Meditation and a loyal member of the Wednesday Night Dharma Study and Sit group since its inception over a year ago. She is feisty, forthright and funny, known for her sharp intelligence and quick wit. She is small, with a wiry, athletic build, bangs and an alert, cheerful face. Eyes that don't miss a thing. Broad smile. That someone so full of life came so close to losing it shocked me deeply. I wrote back right away and forwarded Jane's email to the others in the Wednesday night group.

Meanwhile, I was mulling over a topic for this week's blog. I had wanted to write about driving across country from California to the East Coast with Lois and her aged pets. I thought it would be great to have Lois take the pen the week after and share how it's been for her since the trip, settling down in New Jersey. But when I called Lois to suggest this, she pointed out that next week was Thanksgiving and she was having a full house and would have no time to write. What about putting it off a week? Fine! I said. But then wondered what the heck I would write about this week. I was looking through old essays to fiddle with when someone emailed from the group wanting Jane's address. I started to email Jane when I thought it better to phone: it would be quicker and we could have a bit of a chat. 

So I called. Serendipitously, Jane answered, in a garrulous mood. As she talked so succinctly about the accident and how the sangha had come through for her, I realized here was my blog falling in my lap. I scrambled for pen and paper and started to take notes. And here is what Jane had to tell me about her experience:

Jane: My husband, Casey, and I went to Palm Springs for a few days. The day after we arrived, I went for a bike ride. The weather was perfect and the mountains absolutely beautiful. As I was about to cross a street, I remember thinking how lucky I was to be out on an afternoon like this looking at the shadows and light on the blue colored mountains.

When the cars had cleared on the street, I noticed another car across the street from me stopped with a left turn signal blinking. I decided to cross in the crosswalk, and so got my feet placed on the pedals and started across the street. 

About the accident itself, I was clearly aware when it happened. I wasn't afraid. I saw the car coming. I saw the hood coming right at me. I saw that it would hit me. I felt the impact, I saw the blue sky, and then I remember hitting the ground. I sat up pretty quickly. The man who hit me was there, and was telling me how he never saw me and that the sun was right in his face and had blinded him. He was very apologetic. I told him that I understood, things happen, and that I seemed to be ok. I’m sure he was the one to call 911.

I never did have an angry or negative thought about him, and realized that he was certainly suffering, too. I have thought about him so much and truly hope he is ok. He must be very frightened about what might happen to him. I know he got a ticket because I had the right of way. I would probably be hurting more if I were in his shoes: many times I haven’t seen a pedestrian or bike rider in an intersection because I was looking for cars, not other things.

Palm Springs golf course and blue mountains

The cops were there right away, it seems, and I was by a golf course, so there were plenty of people around. I remember saying, "I think it would be good if I get out of the middle of the street." 

But they said, "No, no, you stay where you are." 

I asked, "Could you get my cell phone? It's in my back pocket. I need to call my husband." And I told Casey I was in an accident, where I was, and that they would probably take me to a hospital so come now before they take me somewhere else.

He said I sounded like nothing had happened. 

The police interviewed me asking for all kinds of information such as driver license number, etc. and I was able to remember everything perfectly. Throughout this, I never felt frightened, upset, or angry. I wasn't the least bit distressed, I was yammering, yammering... I just concentrated on what needed to be done, and felt immensely grateful that I was alive and not paralyzed. I mean I REALLY felt grateful.

The ambulance came and they put IV's in me and strapped me to a board. They put a collar on me to stabilize my neck (I thought it was a little late for that!), and took me to the Emergency Room. When they got me there, they said, "Hopefully you'll just have a few cracked ribs." And, "Thank God you had a helmet on!"  Clearly I would have had major head injuries without that helmet. They were expecting a lot of broken bones, and kept asking, "Are you really 65?!" 

They gave me a set of very expensive x-rays. I probably got enough radiation to do me in if nothing else - CT scans etc. I was in a good mood, I continued to be calm and focused, and let everyone know how much I appreciated what they were doing. I was thanking everybody. 

After the scans, I was returned to my cubicle for over an hour with nothing else to be done until the results came back, and it was then, after the immediate crisis was over, that I begin to experience negative thoughts. Why weren’t they checking on me once in awhile? Why was this taking so long?  I wanted to walk out. I was tired and hungry and I'd had enough. Then the doctor came in to tell me I was all clear, and that I was one lucky lady. What a relief. After another hour, they still hadn’t written up my discharge papers, so I told Casey I was going to walk out if they didn’t get my stuff ready NOW! (They did.)

I went home, took a shower, we went to the Art Museum, had dinner with friends. I took myself off my medications. 

Next day I was immobilized. I had such dizziness, it took me an hour to get out of bed. I called the doctor who said, "Get back on the meds!" Monday was rough. Tuesday, I had spasms. The bruises and the scraped skin are nothing. The pain is internal, these muscle spasms. 


Alison: Has meditation helped you deal with this at all?

Jane: Yes! Here are some insights I had about what I’ve learned over the past two years with Long Beach Meditation and how it's helped.  


I was able to maintain complete clarity during the crisis. I didn’t start thinking about implications, what might happen, how pathetic I was, etc. And during this time, I wouldn’t say that I was suffering. 

Later when I had more time to reflect, when the monkey mind kicked in, and I thought about what the pain meant, how I would be affected, then I suffered. The doctor said I might get dizzy when I sit down or get up. That's a small price to pay for your life, but oh God! I ran with it. The mind started, "Do I have a brain bleed? Will it have lasting effects?" That's where the fear comes in: the dizziness wasn't nearly as bad as the implications. When I started thinking about things like brain damage and long term consequences, 90% of my suffering was from thinking unskillful thoughts and maybe 10% was from the pain in my back. Being able to label what was I was doing put the scary thoughts in the background. They were still there at times, but they weren’t running the show anymore. 

I received numerous emails from members of the sangha. I can’t tell you how touched I was by this outpouring of caring and kindness. I realized what a safe container this group of people provides. Just like Wendy said last week. It was an amazing feeling. I heard from Victor, people I’m close to in the sangha, and from people who don’t even know me. I was struck by how each and every sender said just the right thing to me. People offered to visit, bring food, take me places, let me know they missed me, share similar experiences, and tell me about books that had helped them in tough times. 

You saw what Gerald wrote: 

"If Jane's experience is not one of "waking up", then I don't know what it is!  Of course, it would not be my method of choice to reach Nirvana!!

Sigh of relief!"

That really made it flower for me. The people became catalysts for me to stop and think: there's always more to see. What an amazing group of people who truly walk their talk (or meditation in this case). I'd like to assure Victor, this is not just a bunch of sitters.

Alison: Could you talk about your meditation practice? 

Jane: I’ve been meditating about four years now - two of those using Vipassana meditation since I came to LBM. I meditate for 30-45 minutes when I first wake up in the mornings. I haven’t meditated since the accident but feel that I can get back to it in a day or so.

I became interested in meditation when I was taking a course of study in Positive

Psychology by Martin Seligman, the President of the APA. Positive Psychology deals with how people can flourish rather than just fix what’s wrong. The six month course was three hours a week plus I met with a small group in a 'pod'. (Howard Cutler, the author of 'The Art of Happiness' with the Dalai Lama was in my pod, so besides people like me, there were some real heavy hitters.) And the thing was that many of the people who were taking this course from all over the world were dedicated meditators. The research is clear that meditation and cognitive behavioral therapy have possibilities for reducing anxiety and increasing calmness.. That's how I got the idea to do this.  I thought I would give it a try because I felt like my negative thinking ran my show too much of the time. I know danger. I can tell you exactly what awful thing might happen. I thought, "This is just nutty and if there's some way to become calmer and more serene..." 

I found my way to LBM two years ago, and this place felt like home, so I’ve stayed around. I have participated in the Wednesday night study group since it started. It was there that I really got to know people, and felt like I belonged. I wasn't looking for a religious path. I was raised a Southern Baptist, and I thought if that's the best we could do, I didn't want any part of it. I remember as a little girl saying to God, "Let's make a deal. Make the moon wiggle a little bit and then I'll believe in you." The moon never wiggled and we sort of went our separate ways. I was pretty irreverent most of my life.

Alison: What else would you like to tell us about yourself?

Jane: I am a clinical psychologist, and I worked for Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health for nearly 23 years. Since the early 90’s, I have worked as a Program Director for children’s mental health programs. I retired two years ago. 

I am married, I have one son who, with his wife and three children, three redheads, ages thirteen, nine and two, live in Irvine. I babysit the youngest every Tuesday and Friday and we all usually have dinner together every Saturday evening. I am so lucky to have them close by. They’re lucky to have me too, because the price of childcare by me is just right. I like to garden, hike, the kids and family. I used to like biking... Yoga!  I do yoga four or five times a week. I'm really limber, and I'm sure the yoga helped me stretch and such. I think yoga was a really important benefit in surviving this thing so well, although I don't know for sure.

I come from Texas. I came to California when I was twenty-nine years old on a job transfer. I was so happy, so glad to get out of Texas! Being a liberal in Texas isn't a long-term survival tactic. I lived in Laguna Beach, best place I ever lived in my life. I like the freedom and the people. I could be who I was in a better way than I could ever be in Texas. 

Alison: Any last thoughts for us?


Jane: For me, it's been a fight between the old worry way, the way I want things to be and acceptance of what is. 

What is it about us (or at least me) that I keep getting into these things? It's like last summer, when I encountered that grizzly bear...

Grizzly and her yearlings

Alison: WHAT?!!                                               

Jane: Oh, everybody's heard this story.

Alison: Not me.

Jane: Okay then.

It was this past August, Casey and I were hiking in Glacier National Park. I wanted to go further, he didn't. But it's unsafe to hike by yourself, so he took me to meet up with a ranger and hike with her. Well, it was getting very cold, and she was very slow, so I asked if it would be okay if I went on alone. She said okay. So now it's Jane on the trail all alone, making noises. And I go around a corner and come face to face with a grizzly. I can see its head and shoulders. It's about eight feet above me. "Well, this isn't good," I say to myself. I turn around and go back and come across what I thought was the same bear... I walked briskly, I didn't look back, I thought, "All I can do is do nothing to provoke the situation." It took me ten minutes to get down. I never looked back. I met two men on the trail and told them, "I just passed a grizzly." One of them looked up and said, "Oh, s**t. It's a mother and her two grown cubs - and they're coming down the trail!" One of them started running. I thought, "Oh, that's not a good idea." They had cameras and took photos. The bears went on down the hill without bothering us. 

I tell you, my karma is gunning for me! I better stop being such a smart-ass because at this rate... You'd think if there's an inner Buddha, he must be saying, "I'm going to knock some sense into her. I've got a hard study here!"

I'm forever crawling through some wreckage - it's the story of my life. One day it'll get me and give me a good send-off when it happens. But I keep coming back for more, so there you go. If you even survive these things, they make a wonderful tale to tell, but the sangha has helped me see there's more to it than just a good story. 

You know, Victor's always saying, "Time's a ticking, it's time to get serious!" I was smirking, thinking Victor's right, you just never know when the Grim Reaper is lurking around the corner. We know we could get hit by a truck, but when it actually happens, it's a whole new ball-game. (It's funny, I see it as a black pick-up truck in my memory, but Casey says it was a car, a dark brown Toyota Avalon.)

So, to each and every one of you: Thanks for being there for me. And don’t wait till you’re hit by a truck to take this practice seriously.