I was 10 years old when I landed at Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh, Pa. following a sled riding accident, which nearly claimed my life on Dec. 28, 1976.
As I sit here and ponder the events of that day, my mind is flooded with a multitude of memories.
In preparation for a day of sled riding, I bundled up in layers of clothing before putting on my winter coat and snow pants. My ensemble was topped off with a pair of gloves, a hat and scarf.
With practically every inch of my body covered from head to toe, I looked like the abominable snowman.
I could hardly move as I sat outside on the stoop in the frosty air patiently waiting for my brother John, who had just received a clean bill of health from our family doctor.
It was three days after Christmas I was eager to try out the new plastic molded toboggan sled we received as a gift from our Aunt Sharen.
The outdoors were blanketed with a layer of freshly fallen snow, which made the anticipation of using our brand new sled even more exciting.
After lingering for what seemed like an eternity, the two of us, along with our cousin Lori, who had come to spend the day, bounded up the steps of our apartment to the main street above.
Wearing winter boots, we trudged through the deep snow dragging our state-of-the-art sled to the other side of our apartment building, which also housed the church our father pastored in the small southwestern Pennsylvania coal-mining town of Berryville.
We finally arrive at “Dead Man’s Drop,” our infamous secret sled riding hill. It was a 100 foot plunge at a 70 degree angle with the building on one side and a row of pine trees on the other with approximately 10 feet in between.
Every time it was my turn to use to coveted toboggan sled, snow would hit me square in the face as I flew down the dangerous hillside on my stomach at a high rate of speed.
After several bouts with the icy white flakes, I finally decided to outsmart the snow by pulling the hat down over my face for protection.
My brother and cousin watched in horror as I plummeted to an uncertain fate, heading straight for the pine trees.
Following the impact, my limp body flew through the air and landed in a clump of snow just a few short yards away. I lay there bleeding and unconscious while my brother hurried for help.
When our father rushed to my aid, he removed the blood drenched hat covering my face. A stream of crimson oozed from my swollen eyes and visibly broken nose, as well as that of my mouth, as it trickled down my bruised and battered face.
With lightening speed, my parents drove me to the nearest hospital 15 minutes away in Little Washington. Once there, I was taken by ambulance to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh where I spent the next 15 days, my mother at my bedside.
My mouth required immediate attention because of the profuse bleeding in the lower portion of my gums. While in the emergency room, I received 27 stitches before being transported from one hospital to the next.
Before the doctors could decide what course of action should be taken, a multitude of tests had to be completed to determine the extent of my injuries after which my parents were informed of the prognosis.
Dr. William Katt, a well-known plastic surgeon who performed the surgery on my face was amazed I was still breathing. By all accounts, he said I should have died.
I had a fractured skull, smashed cheek bones and a broken nose.
The surgeon had to perform reconstructive surgery on my face. My eye sockets had to be rebuilt and wired together because the bone directly under them was crushed. My nose also had to be repaired.
This past Saturday marked the 43rd anniversary of that death-defying tragedy. I do not celebrate the event because I cheated death. I celebrate it because I received a new lease on life.
God, in his infinite power and wisdom, reached down his hand of mercy and cradled my broken body in His arms. He created me for a higher purpose and breathed life back into my body that day.
I am a living, breathing miracle of God.
We don’t always understand God’s ways. But one thing is for sure, He took me out of death’s grip that day and allowed me the opportunity to make a difference in this world.