Mitch Terrusa

I came to driving instruction as a profession being motivated to do so after my best friend, Marilyn, (pictured) was injured in a car accident.  She had been driving for many years and never had a traffic ticket or accident before this one. 

 

She was a good driver.

 

She was a top teacher, dearly loved by her students and dedicated to making sure they were well prepared to enter their adult lives.  The years of dedication she gave to her students did not go unappreciated.  They knew she cared about them, loved them and wanted the best for them. 

 

Marilyn's students returned her affection by throwing parties for her and writing her thank-you’s.  Some honored her by returning in later years to thank her for the positive influence she had been to them as her teacher, mentor and friend.  She loved when that happened.

 

Marilyn loved life and her fun and exuberant life-force carried her through long days and long nights of two jobs and grading papers.  She raised two sons, often with the help of her mother and father when they came out to California from Michigan and stayed a few months each year. 

 

One winter morning on her way to San Pedro High School, she pulled out in the middle of an intersection and waited for traffic to clear as she did every weekday.  The light changed to yellow and the traffic cleared.   She started to go but her car needed a tune-up and it hesitated for a second.

 

At that moment, a 19 year-old man came speeding around the curve and saw the yellow light.  He hit the gas because he didn’t want to be late for work.  She saw him and hit the gas to get out of his way but it was too late. 

 

His 57 Chevy struck the right rear quarter panel of her car at approximately 55 miles per hour and the light-body 1970 Torino GT convertible she was driving spun around 3 ½ times before coming to a stop against the curb. 

 

If he had not been speeding

or if her car had been properly tuned,

the accident could have been avoided. 

 

Marilyn's hand flew off the steering wheel by the force of the collision and struck the rear-view mirror breaking it off with her knuckles.  She was shaken but seemed okay and so did the 19 year-old speeder.  Both cars were total losses.

 

She was sore from the accident but about 5 weeks later, she couldn’t get out of bed.  The pain of whiplash is real.  Whiplash has a bad reputation because so many people fake having whiplash since it is soft tissue damage that can’t be proven or disproven by x-rays. For those people that really have whiplash, it can be very painful. 

 

Six months after the accident, x-rays revealed that she had disintegrating discs in her spine from the accident – bone spurs had formed causing her a great deal of pain.

 

The pain was so debilitating that, even though the procedure of a laminectomy at the time of her surgery was considered very dangerous, she elected to have it. 

 

Unfortunately, the surgery made the pain worse. 

 

She tried everything available to stop the pain.  From acupuncture to pain medications to chiropractic treatment, nothing could dull the pain enough for her to live a normal life. 

 

After years of fighting the State of California for early retirement due to her disability; after having to give up her career, her home and most of her dreams, she won a small early retirement.

 

It was not enough money to live on-on her own. 

 

Marilyn couldn't work anymore.  She tried but she could not sustain working at any job through her pain.  She was forced to move in with her mother in order to survive financially. 

 

Over the years, she tried to maintain a positive view but it was depressing for her to live with chronic pain and often it got to her. 

 

She couldn't stand, sit or lie down for more than 30 minutes at a time.  The pain invaded her sleep.  Once, I found her asleep in a chair with a book in her hand.  I adjusted her blanket and tried to remove the book from her hand.  She had it in a very tense grip and I had to pry her fingers off the book to remove it.

 

I remember visiting her at her mother’s house and found her drinking alcohol heavily while taking larger-than-prescribed doses of pain medications.

 

I was alarmed. 

 

I told her that that combination might kill her.  She looked me straight in the eye and with level seriousness and an angry catch in her voice revealing her frustration said, “Good.”  

 

She looked down with tears forming, ashamed of the honest but negative answer she gave me.   She recovered herself and attempted to explain,

 

“The constant pain is so great and I never have any time that I am free of it.  I’m so frustrated by it and so exhausted by it, that there are times when death looks like the only way I’ll ever be free from hurting.

 

I’m sorry that I’m not stronger than I am.” 

 

I flashed back to the 19-year old who didn't want to be late for work.  How many of us make that choice to hit the gas when we shouldn't because we don’t want to be late -- as if those 90 seconds we lose at the light matters more than life itself?  That 90 seconds cost Marilyn a lifetime of pain. 

 

That one decision -- to hit the gas on a yellow light -- caused the loss of a great teacher to all the future students she would never be able to teach.  The decision to hit the gas caused Marilyn and her family financial ruin. 

 

The joy she used to bring to her family and friends never returned. Trying to save 90 seconds ended the vital dreams she had – dreams that would never be fulfilled. 

 

90 Seconds.   

 

She was 40 when she had the accident.  She was in her prime.  Marilyn’s contribution to the world was stunted by an ignorant driver and an overdue tune-up. 

 

In my view, the accident took her life; it just took her 17 years of frustrating agony to die. 

 

Certainly, life as she knew it was over from that accident.  Officially, it was cancer that took her life. I believe that her pain lowered her resistance to disease and her body couldn’t fight the pain and cancer, too. 

 

She was 57.

 

You’re free now, Marilyn. 

 

When the opportunity came to join my father’s fledgling driving school called Teen Auto Club Driving School, I thought about my best friend.  I thought that I might be able to make a difference.   If I could stop a young driver from making the same mistake, then that would be a worthwhile use of my time and my life. 

 

I decided to join him for that reason. 

 

Marilyn was my best friend.  She was an inspiration to her students.  At the end of her life, she faced death courageously expressing the hope that death was just the next great adventure for her. She taught me how to live and, by her courage, how to die. 

 

Marilyn was my best friend.  She was also my mom.