Matthew Morgan was crumpled on the pavement lying in a pool of blood. Bones had torn through his flesh. His left foot was nearly severed. As he lapsed into and out of consciousness, a jarring thought crossed the Baptist preacher’s mind: he no longer had health insurance.
“That was one of the first thoughts I had after I got hit,” Matthew told me in a telephone interview from his home in Indianola, Miss.
Matthew is a bi-vocational pastor. He ministers to two congregations and works a full-time job at the Indianola Pecan House. The 27-year-old is married and has four children. His oldest is five, the youngest is one. And on Feb. 17th he became a victim of ObamaCare.
Matthew Morgan was a creature of habit. Every morning before the sun rose over the Mississippi Delta, he would lace up his running shoes, and pound the pavement with three other runners. Twelve mile runs were the norm but on the 17th – they decided on a lighter run. The nine-mile run that day would take them deep into the countryside.
It was Monday. 5:45 a.m. The runners had just reached the turn-around point. Two were setting the pace. Matthew and another runner trailed behind. He saw a car approaching and Matthew crossed over to the other side. It was a move that would soon have life-altering implications.
“I remember hearing tires squeal,” he told me. “I turned around and saw very dim headlights. I tried to move out of the way.”
But it was too late.
The 1999 Dodge Ram slammed into the young preacher. He was thrown onto the hood of the truck. His head swung around and busted out the passenger’s side window. And then he was dumped onto the pavement.
“As soon as I was hit, I felt my leg break,” he said. “I hit the ground in the fetal position.”
Blood was everywhere. Bones were sticking out of his arm and leg. His injuries were graphic and grotesque. His left leg was shattered, ankle broken, the tibia completely ripped away. A bit of skin was the only thing holding his foot together. His left arm was broken.
Not once did Matthew lose consciousness. He remembers everything. And for a moment, he was alone in the darkness on that quiet stretch of country road. On one side was farm land. On the other a bayou.
“I remember praying, ‘Lord, I don’t mind coming home but I feel like I have a little more work to do here,’” he said.
Using his broken arm, Matthew was able to pull the phone from his other arm and called his wife.
“I did not want to call her but I had to,” he said. “I told her I was broken all up. I had been hit by a truck and needed her to come and get me.”
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