I’m Not Broken: A Journey of Trauma, Hope and Restoration

By Nat Cramond

Nat Cramond looks back at the challenges she overcame after being involved in a hit-and-run car accident in this memoir.

Initially, she was diagnosed with whiplash, which meant she needed to take time off work due to the physical nature of her job in the disability support sector.

Her symptoms did not improve, however, and after six months she went back to her doctor and received a shocking diagnosis—one that led to more weakness and pain.

As a result, her life was turned upside down, and she needed to take several months off work while facing declining health and a battle with an insurance company that lasted years.

In this account, she shares her struggles, the details of her diagnosis, and the feelings of shame and anguish she battled after being involved in the accident. Although she was often close to despair, she found that there were things she could still be thankful for even in the midst of treatment.

Join the author on a journey that ends with her starting life with a new outlook in I’m Not Broken.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Apr 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781982297169

Book preview

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The Accident

My life was about to change forever, but I had no idea. The date was December 3, 2015. The day seemed like just an ordinary Thursday. Yes, there were challenges at work, but the challenges were nothing new. As a disability support worker, I ensured the safety and well-being of the clients I was working with. As part of my role, I made sure they had appropriate food and medication, their housework was complete, and their personal care needs were seen to before my shift ended, when the next person came to take over at the end of my shift. I was keeping my clients safe and giving them opportunities to have positive connections with the public and people in their community (these are things I took for granted).

Nothing prepared me for my journey home and how it would change my life, suddenly at first but later, little by little. I left work as normal, having contemplated the idea of going to the gym on the way home but dismissing it. I drove home via my normal route, which I had travelled probably a hundred times or more as a driver and many more as a passenger. But this journey is one that unfortunately has been etched into my mind, for all the wrong reasons. As I travelled home from work on this occasion, I noticed a car approaching the intersection ahead of me, going way too fast. My instinct kicked in and told me to slow down, then I swerved the car when I was unable to stop before the intersection. The car continued approaching the intersection way too fast to be safe. I took evasive action and thought I was being sensible and had avoided an accident. However, the next moment, I felt my car being pushed to the other side of the road. Even to this day, I am still confused about what happened in those few seconds. The world seemed to slow down, yet so much happened all at the same time. My thoughts scrambled as I struggled to understand what had happened and what I needed to do. I had never been in an accident before, and my adrenaline was definitely setting in.

Crap, I thought. I’ve been hit. I need to pull over. What do I do? My thoughts raced. I know I need to stop, but then what? It is not safe to stop here. I cannot be seen if I stop here, nor can I be passed safely. In a split-second, I decided I needed to find a safer spot to stop. I found a place a few metres down the road and pulled over there.

I had been hit on the left side, just behind the passenger door. I did not realize it at the time, but my life had changed forever. As I got out of my car, my upper back was sore, and I felt very weak. Initially, I thought it was just the fact that I was in shock—which I was—but I felt I needed to sit down. I needed the support of a nearby gum tree. A car had stopped in front of the local CFS station only a few metres up the road. I didn’t have the strength to walk this far (fifty metres). Then the car departed. I was left at the accident scene all alone, unsure who the other driver was or where they’d gone.

What was I to do? I had no idea. It all felt very surreal. The isolation felt overwhelming, the shock unbelievable, and my thoughts were scrambled. I felt disoriented and unsure of what to do; I was just trying to piece together everything that had just happened. I remember feeling like I did not want anyone to see me or my car like this. I felt ashamed that I had not been able to stop the accident from occurring. It had all happened so fast, yet in slow motion at the same time. The shame I felt from being in an accident was huge. It was my first car accident; my perfect record of having no car accidents was broken. I wondered if there was anything I could have done to avoid the accident. I believe I did all I could to avoid the accident, but there is always some doubt, at least for me. Then there was being stranded at the side of the road waiting for help, not wanting anyone to see me or my damaged car.

Trembling, I called home, which was all I felt I could do, and told my family I had been involved in an accident. I was less than five minutes from home. My mum and one of my sisters came out and met me at the accident scene. At this point, the police and ambulance had not yet been called. I had not even thought of calling them. Thankfully, someone driving by saw the damage to my car and stopped; they asked if I was the only one involved in the accident. I said no. The stranger said that equated to a hit-and-run, and the police needed to be called. The thought terrified me, as I had not much to do with the police before this time. I was feeling so shaken that I did not feel like I could do this, so the stranger rang for me. It felt like such a godsend. After the stranger made the phone call, my mum and sister arrived at the scene. At this point, the stranger left. I didn’t even get the person’s name.

I felt weak and overwhelmed, even after my mum and sister arrived. It was daunting. I am grateful to the ambulance staff, who took me to see my damaged car. Up until this point, I had not done this. Perhaps there was a fear that it would become all too real at this point. All I knew was I had been hit with enough force to be pushed onto the other side of the road. I am extremely grateful there were no cars coming in the opposite direction (for they would not have seen me until it was too late, and I would have been involved in two accidents). This area of Greenhill Road is usually busy, but it was unbelievably quiet, almost eerily so, for 5:30 to 6:30 in the evening. Was this God’s protection? I didn’t think so at the time, but I am absolutely convinced of it now.

Up until this point, I was not even sure if I had called 000 (Australia’s emergency services line) before. Now I needed police and an ambulance and had to produce a statement about what happened—a statement that was only my word and the evidence at the scene. There was no one else who had witnessed the accident. It was tough trying to put into words what had happened and to see the damage that had been caused to my car. I certainly would not have been able to look at it myself. It sounds odd, but in a sense, I felt like part of me died at the scene.

Until this moment, I had not known the effects of a car accident, the way one remembers the sound, the bang, the screech. How the smell and the moments of impact are remembered. The pain that is relived and replayed as one seeks to make sense of what happened in those few moments. This can happen at random moments and can be triggered by many different things. They can replay in your mind immediately but also for days, months, and years after such a life-transforming moment.

I didn’t know what needed to happen at the scene, nor did I know the long-term effects a car accident could bring to my body. That day, my innocence concerning car crashes and the associated trauma was broken and died. I felt so unworthy at that moment, as I began to process the event that was to affect my life so deeply.

It was not my fault, and there was no one at the scene to help me process what I had experienced. I was alone, and it is hard to share such moments due to the pain and isolation and the fact I was the only one I knew experiencing the effects of that moment. Why didn’t the other driver stop to render assistance? Didn’t he or she see me? Didn’t he or she care? What was I to make of such an experience? These were questions I asked on repeat.

I told the ambulance crew my upper back was sore, but because I’d had a history of lower back pain earlier in the year, they told me they did not think it was worth taking me to hospital for scans, as it would be a waste of time. Dismissal number one. Sadly, this was the beginning of my symptoms being dismissed and not being taken seriously. In many ways, I probably did not help myself by trying to be strong at the scene. I felt embarrassed to share how much I’d struggled to find the strength to stand in the immediate moments following the collision. I had dismissed the feeling of weakness I’d felt at the scene and put it down to shock and feelings of being vulnerable and bewildered.

Looking back, I am left to wonder if it would have been a waste of time to get scans immediately or if it would have alleviated some of the pain, trauma, and heartache I was going to feel in the months and years ahead. I knew the pain was different than what I had experienced before, but as much as I tried to explain this to the ambulance officers, I could not communicate it effectively. The ambulance crew told me if I was still sore in the morning to go and see my GP. While I did not realize it then, this was the first of many times over the next number of years that I was going to struggle to be heard.

The police finally arrived at the scene, after what felt like an eternity, and I was breath-tested and had to tell them what had happened. They assessed my car at the time as being roadworthy. It was only a short drive till I got home, so I was told to drive it carefully due to the damage. As such, my car needed to be driven home. I did not want to drive it. Mum pressured me into driving home, as I needed to get back on the horse, so to speak. I remember feeling apprehensive and anxious about this. I really did not want to drive as I was still in shock, but it was a short drive home, and I had company. So I drove home very cautiously, especially around the corners. I was not happy with the idea of driving, but in hindsight, it was a good step towards getting me back driving after the shock and agony of what had just happened. I do remember being thankful for being cleared of any major injury. However, as we will see later, I did have a very significant but hidden injury.

In the meantime, after arriving home, I had a decision