Tuesday, November 10, 2015


When I was 12, my grandmother got my brother Ken and I to run some errands for her at the grocery store about a half a mile away. While we were walking back from the store, Jim, the brother of Ken’s friends, drove by. He stopped and asked if we’d like a ride home. Ken agreed, but I didn’t know Jim and didn’t want to get into the back of his truck. But Ken got me into the back anyway and Jim drove on.

Jim wasn’t too familiar with where we lived and drove right pass our driveway. When he did, I started to think that he had meant to kidnap us, so I jumped from the truck. When I jumped, I had a gallon of bleach in my right hand, which pulled me to the ground. I hit my head on the road and suffered a fracture to my skull. Later on, I found out that I was actually considered, by the attending medical team, as ‘dead on the scene’.

Fortunately, our neighbors saw what had happened and rushed to my aid. The ambulance arrived sometime later and took me to the local city hospital. When we arrived, the doctors said that they had no means to handle a trauma case as bad as mine, so they had to send me to the county hospital, 30 miles away. By that time, the ambulance that had sent me there had left and because we were in a small town, that was the only ambulance available. But there was a hearse parked outside the hospital. So they put me into the hearse and rushed me to the county hospital.

At the county hospital, I clinically died three more times while the doctors battled to rescue me. In the end, the attending doctor signed my Death Certificate. But just as he put it on my big toe, I moved.

My mom later told me that she had been in the lobby crying when she saw the doctor skipping through the hallway shouting, “He’s alive, he’s alive!”

But my miracle did not end there. Even though the doctors had to drill 6 more holes into my head to release fluids, they didn’t have to put any metal plates onto my skull as they said that I was still young and my growth would ensure that the wounds would heal themselves.

By that time, the severity of the accident had made me into a little celebrity. The local paper would carry daily updates on my condition and it would amuse me to no end just reading about my condition in the paper. An obituary was even placed in the paper for me because I wasn’t expected to live. Yet, there I was, alive and recovering by the grace of Jesus.

Fifteen years later, I was back in my hometown visiting with my Grandparents. I took the opportunity to look Jim up. When we finally met, Jim was speechless. I told him that I thought that it was important for me to see him and let him know that I had recovered so that he needn’t wonder anymore about that little boy who jumped from his truck so long ago.

I consider myself extremely blessed that not only am I alive, I have completed the circle and made contact with everyone who was involved in my accident. In fact, I learned, while talking to the doctor, that a week prior to my accident, he was actually in London teaching. But one of his patients had suffered major trauma so he had to fly back to the States to attend to his patient. It was while attending to his patient that my accident happened. God had someone in the right place at the right time for me.

Rick Olmsted
United States of America

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