User Profile

My story could start anywhere but for the most part it started November 25th 2001. I was driving back home to california from new mexico with my 6 year old son in a newly purchased 98 chevy s10 pickup. My mother and sister and her baby were following in a car behind us. On highway I 40, at 6am we hit a patch of black ice crossing over a small bridge going 70 MPH. My truck started spinning out of control and as tapped the brakes, the rear flipped over the front while flipping sideways down an embankment. The truck rolled over on my side, knocking me unconcious. My son, who was sleeping at the time woke up to the doors being slammed open and shut. He was thrown from the vehicle, landed 30 feet away, and then slid across the freeway into a bush in the emergency lane. The truck landed upside down trapping me inside. My mother and sister arrived on the scene and after 10 to 15 minutes, finding no response from the truck, started searching around the wreck area and found my son sitting upright holding his right arm braced to his chest covered in blood. The truck was so compacted that no matter how low they got to the ground they could not see inside. My left fooot, now missing the shoe it was wearing, was sticking outside the drivers side window. I awoke to the sound of my mother crying and my sister calling out for a response. My pelvis was still connected to the seat, which was the ceiling now, from the lap belt. My right knee was pressed up against my chest, with my right ankle crushed between the steering wheel and the dash. I had snapped my tibia which was now sticking out my shin. My body twisted, I laid there half on my side and half on on my stomach unable to move anything from the waist down. My left leg had bent backwards anteriorly 100 islocating and tearing all connecting ligaments to my knee. It would take two to two and a half hours before an ambulance would arrive, during which 6 other cars would hit the patch of ice and crash, flip and land around my truck. Even the ambulance was hit by a car after it had arrived. when the fire truck arrived they cut the drivers side door off and realized the truck was toooo smashed to get me out. Seeing how I was able to move from the waist up they unwrapped my legs and pulled while I pushed myself out of the truck backwards. They called the hellicopters in and one took my son to kigman, AZ and the other flew me to Flagstaff, AZ. My son suffered from a broken wrist, bruised lung and had lacerations from waist to chin. While waiting the duration of the time for help to arrive I had lost 1/3 of my blood and was rushed into surgey in Flagstaff. Due to error, on part of the social worker, my charts were read extremely incorrectly and child protective services were called. After removing the social worker from the case and a correct rereading of my charts was done, they found the drugs found in my system had in fact been administered at the hospital, after all, I was infact hooked up to the morphine pump. My exhusband was called in and flew my son back to california where he sued and won temp full custody of my son. I was in critical condition and was unable to show for the hearing. My son was pulled from the school he was currently enrolled in without permission of the court and re-enrolled in the wrong grade in a different city. After a blood transfussion I started regaining color and was released from the hospital. It would take three weeks after the return home to regain custody of my son, during which time I was granted reasonable visitation and only permitted one visit for 3 to 4 hours from my ex-husband. After court and mediation I was again granted custody of my son who up until that moment had never lived without me. Since I was in a wheelchair I had to drastically modify my life. Nothing worked from the waist down other than bending at the pelvis and lifting my femurs. I had to relearn everything from going to the bathroom to putting on pants to putting on socks, to wiggling my toes, to bending my knees and finally learning to stand and walking, not as easy as I had remembered them to be. Due to the way that my ankle was pinned in the intial surgery, my right ankle heeled in such a way that foot was angled outward from the leg and so I had to undergo a second operation in order to straighten it out. Along my journery in life I would say for me this is where my story began. I learned that in life you truely do understand and experience real love after you suffer in such a manner. Sometimes I have struggled over and over, but letting go of the pain and moving forward has helped me to learn and grow, releasing me from the choas trapped inside. Moving foward is difficult, the past is just what it is and clinging to it creates the choas, ensures the struggle. It was painful at first being so alone. No one wanted to visit when I arrived home. Everyone deals with such matters in their own way. Finding yourself completely alone and then realizing you had put yourself there is never an easy thing to face. I used the time to reflect and feel what needed to be felt and with love and support of my family and friends as well three very, one in particular, dear friends (creators of Bluehouse) I channeled my emotions in a more creative direction. I started combining my sewing with my crocheting and painting and setting fire to gowns I stated giving my emotions life. It was my way of dealing and opening up a whole other side of myself and alowing others in. I was able for once in my life to see myself and the woman I was stepping into and able to embrace her. Once I allowed myself to open up the love just poured in. So who is Red Ant? Red Ant is all of you who were there and able to reach out and extend yourself to a lost little girl searching for herself and finding herself able to leave the choas and pain on the side of road that day. So where is Red Ant today? Well, I have currently regained full use of my legs as for my creations are concerned they are still manifesting themselves and continue to evolve as I evolve and as I change as a person. Each piece is one of a kind creation and when worn have a life of their own. It's an experience of the manifestation of your imagination.

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