Behind them now, I kept a safe distance.  Down the hills, up the hills, hugging the curve, and anticipating the next curve while staying perfectly in the lane, it can be an adventurous drive.  I think the people in the car ahead of us thought so, too.  They were going just above the speed limit for a few minutes, and then they started to go well over the speed limit.  

Off into the distance and around more curves, we eventually lost sight of them. 

I stayed settled at the safer speed we were traveling and focused my thoughts on what work would look like for the week ahead.  For a few minutes, I thought back to the emails and texts I had to send earlier.  The time it took to send those really delayed us.  I had hoped to be home in time to do family prayers and to help get Ronan in bed.  But it would be past his bedtime by the time we’d arrive at home.  Then I thought about how much Ronan would’ve loved the day we had with his brother, minus going to Mass.  It’s a beautiful, traditional church but would be too echo-y for him.  We’ll still plan on bringing him should we visit again on a Sunday.  

I prayed that he had a good day back at home and that we could soon make plans for the whole family to be together. 

We were just about out of the curviest and hilliest section when I saw a car ahead of us toward the end of a curve with their hazard lights on.  What I couldn’t make out yet was if they were moving or where on the road they were.  Immediately slowing down, I said quietly to myself, “What is going on here…what…is…going…on?” My voice trailed off as I tried to see where the car was.  It wasn’t on the side of the road.  The car was fully stopped in the lane we were in! Thankfully, I’d slowed down quickly enough that I could approach them without having to swerve.  But then, I saw a mailbox in the opposite lane as well as what looked like branches.

What on earth?!

“Honey, what do you see?  I see a car in the road, and now I see a mailbox…also in the road. I see what looks like straw or bits of shrubbery all over the grass to the right, but I can’t tell what’s going on.  What do you see?” I asked my daughter as we very slowly crept past.  

“Mom, there’s another car off the road in the grass. 

Wait.  It’s upside down!  

Mom!  

The car is upside down!” my daughter said with emotion. 

I had just carefully and slowly weaved between the car with the hazard lights on and the large mailbox, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road.  Another set of curves were just beyond the short straightaway we were traveling.  When I say there are no shoulders on this 5-mile stretch of roads, there is absolutely no shoulder.  If there’s an accident, you’ve got nowhere to go if your vehicle becomes disabled.  You’re a sitting duck hoping no one comes up quickly behind or toward you in the opposite lane.  And that’s what the car with the hazards was doing – hoping no one would come up on them.  

We had a bit of a warning, but other cars coming toward us would not. I flashed my high beams several times hoping they’d slow down. 

Slow down!!

“Mom, should we stop?  Can we help?  What do you think happened?” my youngest asked.  Both of us immediately wondered if the car that flipped was the little black car.  It was so dark outside that she could only see the shape of a car, not it’s make, model or color.  I didn’t answer but saw a driveway of one of the vineyards just ahead of us and pulled in.  I pulled in more out of shock than having a solid plan.  We were less than a tenth of a mile from the accident, close enough to see and hear if any sirens were approaching.

But we could hear none. 

“We need to call someone.  I’m going to call 911, so sit tight and tell me if you see anything or anyone else behind us,” I said. Providing the information to the operator, I shared what I knew and what my daughter saw.  I gave our approximate location and hoped the EMTs would be quick.  Giving myself a second before I got us back on the road, I reached back as my daughter reached forward.  We held hands and said the Guardian Angel prayer. Angel of God, my Guardian dear… Then, we headed once again toward home.  

Had our delay back at the campus parking lot helped us avoid an accident?

Had the quick thinking I did to move out of the driver’s way in that left-turn lane help us?

Had the slowing down I did earlier also help?

I couldn’t help but wonder. 

Should we have helped?  Absolutely!  And we did by quickly contacting those who have more training and experience than we could offer. Had it been daytime, I would’ve gotten out of mycar and run toward the others.  But it was so dark and the road so unsafe.  I didn’t have the confidence to do more than what we did.  

We carefully swerved, we quickly informed, and then we quietly got underway. 

All week I’ve been thinking about the accident that we saw.  We won’t ever know how the car happened to be in the grass and upside down.  We won’t know how the driver fared or if there were passengers.  We won’t know if the car in the road with the hazards on had contributed to the accident or if it was a near-miss for them.  Since it’s been almost two decades of me being a mom to a special needs kiddo, I can’t help but make comparisons when I see events like that crash.  

Bear with me.  

I didn’t get to swerve away from what happened to my son.  But I got to sound the alarm for other parents. I didn’t get to run away from the events that lead up to my son’s vaccine injury. But I know to now slow down and proceed cautiously.  I didn’t get to physically assist someone who faced similar struggles I have had to in exam rooms.  But I now get to watch others makebetter choices for their children than I thought.

What a blessing that has been to have those positives peppered in my life!  The best part is that those positives keep happening.  

Former students of mine now have children who are developing typically because of better choices they made.  Young parents who’ve reached out to me have also seen better outcomes in their children’s health after hearing our story.  It’s an impactful story.  

It’s one with twists and turns.  

It’s one with ups and downs.  

It’s one that’s been incredibly unpredictable. 

But it’s also one that keeps me going.  Until my last breath, for my son and for my family. I promise to keep on going.

Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism. 

###

Deception: The Great Covid Cover-Up