<http://schema.org/articleBody>
" On a rainy Friday evening about seven years ago, my best friend Sara and I settled in for the drive from my place in Dallas to a nearby suburb where Sara&amp;#039;s brother lived. The ride was the same as always, until I noticed that a pickup truck with a trailer attached was swerving back and forth.   &amp;quot;Do you think that guy&amp;#039;s drunk?&amp;quot; I asked Sara. &amp;quot;Maybe,&amp;quot; she said. Suddenly, everything got blurry.   I remember the trailer swinging toward us, my car spinning around from the impact, Sara and I screaming, and this horrible crunching sound. When the car came to a stop, I looked over at Sara\u2014her face was covered with blood from where she&amp;#039;d been hit by the airbag.   I opened my door to get out of the car and immediately fell to the ground; my foot was throbbing and couldn&amp;#039;t bear any weight. I glanced around and realized that the truck that hit us was stuck on some concrete steps just a few feet away. In an effort to get the trailer loose from the steps, the driver ended up breaking several of them\u2014and then, to my horror, sped off.   Cars whizzed past Sara and me without a second glance. Finally, a man ran over with blankets and towels while we waited for help.   A Chance Diagnosis   At the hospital, the staff rushed to take care of Sara, who turned out to have several broken bones. Since my injuries didn&amp;#039;t seem as serious, I waited in the ER for hours, while my dad kept me company. When I finally saw a doctor, he ordered a full body scan to check for internal injuries. Around 4 a.m. he came back into my room and said, &amp;quot;Do you want to hear the good or bad news first?&amp;quot;   My foot wasn&amp;#039;t broken, just bruised. But the scan revealed something more worrisome: a tumor on my thyroid. As soon as I heard the word tumor I just knew it was cancer. Yes, I was healthy and only 21 years old, but for a couple of months before the accident I had been feeling really tired and gaining weight. I had a sense that something serious was causing it, so I had seen a few doctors. They told me I was just stressed.   As I limped out of the hospital with my dad, I felt totally numb. When additional tests confirmed that I did in fact have cancer, I was almost relieved to know what was wrong. But then panic set in. I called Sara in tears to share the news. As soon as I said the word cancer, she started sobbing, too.   Over the next few months Sara&amp;#039;s bones healed and her cuts and scrapes disappeared. Meanwhile, I had surgery to get my thyroid removed, followed by a few radioactive iodine treatments. The radiation was worse than the surgery\u2014I was basically drinking &amp;quot;poison.&amp;quot; (Each time, a technician wearing protective gear would mix up a special cocktail of medicine.) But the hardest part was coming home after the treatments. Because I was radioactive, I had to stay several feet away from my family for three or four days; I couldn&amp;#039;t even pet my dog.   Another Blow   After three radiation treatments, I was elated when my doctors told me I was cancer-free. (I still go for a routine scan once a year.) But just a few months later, my older brother, Jason, died suddenly of an enlarged heart. I was absolutely crushed, but it also motivated me to make some changes in my life. Jason had lived in Colorado and loved it, so after I finished college I decided to move there. Even though he was no longer around, it helped me feel closer to him.   Things started to turn around when I decided to get involved in First Descents, a weeklong adventure therapy camp for young adult cancer survivors. When I was in the hospital getting treated for cancer, I was surrounded by patients who were much older than me, and it was hard to relate to them. And, while some friends, like Sara, were supportive, other relationships fell apart. But everyone at First Descents understood what I had been through. We talked about our surgeries and showed off our scars. It was one of the most uplifting weeks of my life.   Since then I&amp;#039;ve helped raise money for First Descents by participating in the TD Bank Five Boro Tour and the Colorado Relay. I&amp;#039;m also on the committee for their ball. This past June, as a veteran of First Descents&amp;#039; camp, I made the grueling climb with nine other survivors to the top of Mount Hood in Oregon, which has an elevation of more than 11,000 feet. My brother loved the mountains, so I carried a picture of him with me and buried it at the summit.   Going through all this has been quite a journey: surviving a car crash, yet finding out I had thyroid cancer, surviving that but losing my brother\u2014 which was the hardest. In the beginning, I spent a lot of time being angry. I was angry that I had cancer, and I was furious with the truck driver who hit my car, ran away, and left Sara and me for dead. (The police never found him.) But I&amp;#039;ve also realized that in some strange way, the driver of that car actually did me a favor. Thyroid cancer isn&amp;#039;t always aggressive, but mine was. If I hadn&amp;#039;t been hit by that truck, who knows how sick I would have been before my cancer was detected?   Every day I think about how lucky I am, and how life really is too precious to take for granted. I never knew I had the ability be so brave\u2014something like mountain climbing would have definitely been way outside my comfort zone before all this happened\u2014but now there&amp;#039;s very little that scares me. I know I can handle whatever comes my way. And for that, I&amp;#039;m thankful. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.womansday.com/life/real-women/a6035/a-car-accident-saved-my-life-125086/?src=shelter_footer>