Denisse Ramirez 

October 19th, 2018 

Art Literacy Narrative (Rewrite) 

 

June 25th, 2015 was the day that my talent was at risk. A car accident left my tools as an artist in jeopardy and my future clueless. It was my first car accident and I was neither mentally nor physically prepared for what would come during or after this entire experience. One thing for sure is that I will not take my abilities for granted anymore, especially considering that my job as an artist depends on these abilities. The ability to use your hands create art in any way, can be taken away, even by the slightest accident.  

For twelve years now, I have been a self-taught artist who mainly works with traditional and digitals tools, but the one tool that I have always used is my hands. Being a right-handed person, I treat my hands as if they are gifts from God and try not to damage them often. Ever since I was six, I found art very enjoyable and stress relieving. I kept shelves of sketchbooks in my room that always had papers falling out and markers all over the floor. It was a period in my life that was very carefree and simple for a kid my age.  

The day of the car accident, we were driving on the freeway near Cross County Outlet, my mother had told my sister and I to put on our seatbelts since they were not secured. I remember we were talking about a dog that we wanted to get in the future, which ironically, we got the next year. Not even two minutes into driving on the freeway, a red van had crashed into the right side our car, right into my door. My head immediately bashed against the window next to me, knocking me unconscious. The car we were in then started to roll violently across the freeway, stopping all traffic, then crashed into the metal barriers on the ends of the road. When I woke up all I remembered were five men trying to take out my family and get us away from the smoking car, when I had safely gotten out, I had realized that my entire right side of arm and shoulder were paralyzed.  

This moment was so heart-breaking to me because I didn’t know why I couldn’t move my right arm, even more if I was ever going to feel anything in that arm again. I had yelled out to my mother and the paramedics and they put a sling on my arm then placed me on a bed on the way to Lincoln hospital. My mind was going through a million thoughts a minute, “What’s going to happen to me” or “Will I ever be able to draw again” were some of my top questions that I needed answers to, but never received. The doctor at the hospital had told my family that my arm was damaged but needed time to heal, so I had to continue wearing my sling for a few months and go through physical therapy for a year.  

After a full year of therapy, I had realized how much I took my ability of using my hands for granted. There are millions of people that have lost their hands to more gruesome accidents and I didn’t think that the same ability could be taken away from me in a split second. My career as an artist would have been throw away for who knows how long. Drawing, painting, my talent that had brought me joy, relaxation, and a purpose could have been removed by the brute force of a van. This is why I will never thank my hands for granted, they’re gifts that give me my identity and define what I do.