‘It’s by God’s grace that we’re here’ says car accident survivor

March 27--When Kara Smith thinks about all that was lost on a dark King George County highway more eight months ago, she reminds herself of all that remains: Holidays with family. Milestone birthdays. The chance to see her young son grow up.

Smith and longtime boyfriend Gage Ford were headed to dinner on the picture-perfect night of July 3 when a falling tree smashed into her Mazda 6 and nearly killed them.

It was miraculous, doctors told the 27-year-old Smith, that the crash had not paralyzed her. She walked away with fractured vertebrae, a broken shoulder, a shattered wrist and bruises on her heart and lungs. For nearly two months, she wore a brace that immobilized her from the ribs up and robbed her of the ability to take care of herself.

Still, she fared better than Ford, who would spend his 24th summer in a coma, sustained by a ventilator and suffering from the life-threatening effects of a traumatic brain injury.

He went home to live with his family in King George in the autumn, conscious but unable to walk or talk and requiring regular care.

Though Smith looks healed on the outside--she has shed the brace and begun driving again--there is a lingering ache in her back. Cold and rain make it worse.

At night, she remembers the accident in snapshots: the tree falling. Ford slumped over inside the car, unresponsive.

It could be months or more before she returns to her job at Geico, where she works as an insurance agent.

"There is still no normalcy to it all," she said recently from her parents' home on Aquia Creek in Stafford County, where she lives with her son. "It still doesn't feel better because the other half of my life isn't here."

A NEW ROUTINE

In the six years they'd spent as a couple, Smith and Ford were rarely apart. That much has remained unchanged.

Each morning, she sees her son off to school and goes to the gym, where she performs the exercises she learned in physical therapy. Then she makes the half-hour drive to Ford's house. She stays until it's time to meet her son at the bus stop in the afternoon.

They watch movies and football. They thumb wrestle each other. He answers questions with sign language--yes, no.

He signs her nickname, Bear.

"Gage has always had the gift of gab," Smith said. "He's a social guy, articulate, charming. Not speaking for eight months is very frustrating for him."

Sometimes, he directs that frustration at her. She understands and is OK with that.

"Part of me thinks he wants to do the man thing and push me away. I tell him all the time I'm not going anywhere."

CLICKING IN CHILDHOOD

They met as children at summer Bible school, then reconnected years later as adults. Both had a child of their own by then; Smith's son, Kaeden, is 9. Ford's son, Drayden, is 7.

The boys got along well. The couple occasionally spoke of marriage, of growing their blended family. Time, they thought, was on their side.

Then the tree came down, inexplicably, on a clear, still night.

The impact fractured Ford's skull in three places. The brain injury wreaked havoc on his temperature and vitals.

While he clung to life, Smith clung to the belief that he would pull through.

He hadn't said goodbye that night. He never left without saying goodbye.

Doctors were less certain.

But sure enough, Ford grew well enough to leave Inova Fairfax Hospital for an acute medical rehabilitation center in Richmond, where he learned to breathe without a ventilator.

Consciousness came slowly, muddled by medications.

Some days he responded to her. On the days he didn't, "it felt like he was dead. It was like going to a tombstone," Smith said.

She forced herself to snap out of it. To remember how lucky they were.

"He's here," she said. "We've just got to get through."

The good days eventually outpaced the bad. Ford was discharged from the rehab facility in the autumn.

At home in King George, home health nurses have been hard to secure, said his sister, Jennifer Meadows. That has left the bulk of the care to relatives.

Meadows and an aunt, both nurses, take turns caring for Ford at night, fitting it in between their own full-time jobs and families.

They hope Ford will soon be able to enter a rehabilitation facility where he will relearn all the tasks the accident took from him. Walking. Talking. Caring for himself. There is every reason to believe he will.

At home, progress has been slow, Meadows said. But it is progress.

On Jan. 11, friends and family gathered to celebrate Ford's 25th birthday. Amid balloons and cake was the reminder that this day might not have come at all.

A month later, Ford and Smith attended a ceremony recognizing the King George first responders who came to their rescue that night.

It was there, seven months after the accident, that Smith finally allowed herself to cry.

"I know I'm blessed and that it's by God's grace that we're here," she said. "I get bummed sometimes. I think, 'Man, this kinda stinks.' But it could always be worse. I have nothing to be sad about."

Kristin Davis: 540/374-5417

[email protected]

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