Five Years, to the Day

I'd like to say the day started out like normal, but this day was far from normal. There was no French toast breakfast being prepared, no grumpy teenager rolling out of bed at 10 a.m., not even a hint of music echoing in the background. No, because that would be normal. The phone rang; it was about 6 a.m. I remember hearing the ringing and a thought quickly dashed across my mind. It's too early for someone to call. Isn't it still the middle of the night? Must be a wrong number. I rolled over, checked the clock, saw that it really was "the middle of the night" and went back to sleep. Then my dad came in. "Adam's been in an accident. You mom and I are getting ready, we're going down to Ogden." I was tired and it had hardly registered and I didn't understand. I started coming around and asked, "my brother, Adam?" It was too late, my dad was already gone. He and my mom were quickly showering and throwing what they could into duffel bags so they could hurry down the road. I lay in bed, motionless, sobbing. I knew it was my brother and I knew it was bad. The rest of the day was a blur.

Later I found out how bad the damage was. Truthfully, my brother is very lucky to be alive and I know the hand of God was involved in every action surrounding this incident.

Adam and a friend had gone to Las Vegas for a short trip and had to be home (Pocatello -- about nine hours from Las Vegas) early Monday morning to teach tennis lessons. They decided to drive through the night so they would be there in time. Adam was asleep in the front passenger seat and his friend was driving. They were somewhere near Tremonton, Utah when the driver fell asleep at the wheel. The car rolled and rolled and rolled again (I don't know exactly how many times exactly.

The friend escaped with nothing but a broken nose, but Adam wasn't as fortunate. From the accident, he experienced two broken femurs, a skin graft (it was about six square inches of area), multiple cuts and bruises and what I can only imagine as a horrifying memory. His right leg sustained a compound fracture, a severed vein, artery (the femoral -- one of the largest in the human body) and nerve. His left leg was "just" broken, as far as I remember, but had skin removed to complete the skin graft for the right leg. He looked like he'd just come out of a war; it was very sad and very hard for me to see.

After a life flight trip to a hospital in Ogden, multiple surgeries, some upwards of ten or more hours, and the help of Priesthood blessings and competent medical people, he was on to recovery. He spent a month in the hospital, mostly in the ICU and then came home to live with us (Mom, Dad, the Knighton clan and I) for the next phase of recovery (I never went to visit him, but looking back I wish I had. It's not that I didn't care, because I did...a lot...I was just a selfish teenager, going through selfish teenager situations).

When he came home, he had to be in a wheelchair so a ramp was built onto the front of the house and various handicap amenities were made available so he could get around as easily as possible. Luckily my parents built the house with doors wide enough for a wheelchair and had not done anything to spruce up the computer room yet so it was large enough to be converted to Adam's room until he was more mobile (now it has built in cabinetry and counters -- I don't know how well it would work as a bedroom anymore). His girlfriend (at the time), Laura, also came to live with us for a couple months. She stayed downstairs in Alicia's room (she was on her mission). So, if you total up the people we had in the house it comes to six adults (one who needed lots of assistance), a teenager and two little girls. I'd say we had a full house!

His recovery went much quicker than doctors expected. I believe their predictions were that he wouldn't walk again for six months to a year. They didn't account for Adam's personality though. He is not the type to be kept down. He likes to be up and moving. My mom told me that as a baby he was a pill, until he could move. Once he could get around and get what he wanted, he was a happy camper. This experience was about the same. He wasn't grumpy about not being able to walk and be active (he always had fairly good spirits throughout the whole situation) but I could always tell that he wanted to get going and do something. He worked and worked and worked those legs, the right in particular, until he was up and walking. This process took a couple months, but was much faster than the doctor's predictions. Soon after that he was starting to get faster and was back playing sports as much as possible (he even managed to add a broken arm to the equation when playing frizbee one day).

As far as most people could tell, he was entirely healed, although his right leg never healed quite correctly. He had trouble bending it any farther than about ninety degrees due to extra bone and scar tissue growth during the healing process. Even with that though, he was up running around and playing tennis all the time. Then a couple months ago he went in for a corrective surgery to fix his leg one last time and I'm happy to report: Adam has full range of motion with his leg now!!


















Isn't he handsome?! -- I'm allowed to say this; I'm his sister.


















Isn't modern medicine amazing?!!

As tragic as this accident was, it has shaped part of who I am today. I am so grateful that my Adam is alive and well. I can't imagine a life or eternity without him in my family. He is funny, smart, talented and an all around amazing person. I love him. Also, this experience has testified to me many times how much our Heavenly Father loves each of us, individually and how He is in control and has a plan for each of us. I know there were angels ministering to my brother during every moment. Miracles happened and continue to everyday. One day, I know a miracle far beyond physical restoration will happen with Adam, as well. I look forward to this day and in the meantime, I do my best to just love him and be grateful that he's still here today!