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Monday, April 12, 2004
From brink of death, Maria fights back
Miracle.
That was her great-great- grandmother's last name.
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| Maria Federici was struck on I-405 by flying debris. | ||
It is also the only way to explain why Maria Federici is still alive after a freak freeway accident.
Just before midnight on Feb. 22, Maria left her bartending job in Belltown and headed home south on Interstate 405.
A piece of furniture being hauled by the vehicle in front of her fell off its trailer. A 2-by-6-foot chunk of particleboard tore through Maria's windshield.
The board rocketed into her face.
As Maria clung to life, an off-duty bus driver who happened to be passing by stopped to help. The man reached inside Maria's smashed vehicle and tenderly caressed her hand.
Hold on, he said, offering precious human contact. Help is coming.
With that life-affirming touch, the miracle of Maria began.
An ambulance rushed the 24-year-old to Harborview Medical Center.
About the same time, Maria's mother, Robin Abel, got a call at her Renton home. The words blurred through the phone: Accident ... Maria ... Critical. ...
As Robin sped to Harborview, she glanced over and saw it -- the crumpled wreckage of Maria's black Jeep Liberty.
Her heart sank.
Robin arrived at the hospital. Doctors shook their heads. They had done all they could.
The mother went into her daughter's hospital room. With tears in her eyes, Robin, who raised Maria as a single mom, said goodbye to her only child.
She then returned home to make funeral arrangements.
A few hours later her phone rang.
It was the hospital.
Maria had "purposely moved" -- had pushed a hospital staff member's hand away.
"Come back," the caller told Robin.
Maria wasn't giving up.
Strangers could not have known the fight in Maria.
She is an intelligent, fiercely independent and focused young woman. She figures out what she wants in life and lassos it.
Maria graduated from the University of Washington last year with a bachelor's degree in speech communications. She paid her way through school by working as a bartender at Club Medusa and Belltown Billiards, two popular Seattle nightclubs.
Maria stands 5-foot-3 -- but she takes guff from no one.
She can handle the occasional patron who gets loopy on alcohol and becomes overly congenial.
If a guy she is dating flubs up by not calling or keeping his word, she quickly gives him the boot.
But her toughness is tempered by sweetness.
Maria relishes cooking meals for others. Pasta and homemade sauces are her specialties.
She is unfailingly polite, saying "please" and "thank you" and "nice to meet you" to everyone.
That's how she was raised.
| Joshua Trujillo / P-I | ||
| Maria's mother, Robin Abel, and Maria's golden retriever Beau visited her yesterday at Harborview Medical Center. | ||
Maria and her mother often talked about doing something to help people with disabilities. They decided to raise service or guide dogs.
One week before Robin was to meet with people who train dogs for the blind, Maria was critically injured.
Doctors used a word to describe what the piece of wood did to the bones in Maria's face: Obliterate.
The area below her eyebrows was shattered. Her palate was split in half. The collision wiped away her nose and damaged her optic nerve, permanently blinding her. The trauma to bones around her mouth was so severe she might lose her teeth.
Maria suffered a brain injury, the full impact of which doctors may not be able to determine for months, perhaps a year.
But she is alive. For that, everyone is thankful.
"We started out six feet under," Maria's mother, Robin, says through tears. "Doctors had sent me home. They told me it was hopeless. We were ready to donate her organs. ...
"But I got her back. I got my baby back."
Maria glows in a photo taken before the accident.
She has thick, arching eyebrows, and eyelashes that go on forever -- all magnetic features highlighting her Italian roots.
Had the piece of board struck Maria higher up -- in her forehead -- it could have pulverized her skull, killing her. Had it struck lower, close to her neck, it would have decapitated her.
"Her face," doctors told Robin, "saved her brain."
One of the top surgeons in the country worked to fix Maria. She underwent a 15-hour facial reconstruction. Doctors used skull bone from the back of Maria's head as well as part of her hip. They remade Maria's nose.
Since then, Maria has rallied in ways that few could have anticipated.
Doctors thought she might never hear again. She can.
No one was certain how the accident would affect her vocal cords. Would she be able to talk?
The big test came on a recent day.
"Say 'aaaahh,' " a hospital worker instructed.
Maria replied: "Mom."
The worker repeated the request.
Maria said: "Mom."
"Do you know who you are?"
"Maria."
Her cognitive faculties were OK. Maria just wanted Mom -- and she was going to seize the first opportunity to let it be known.
Maria passed a crucial swallow test, which means she will be able to eat solid foods. She no longer needs to use a wheelchair. Her motor skills are good. Her memory and speech, though, can be spotty.
How much her mind will heal remains the looming question.
Sometimes Maria forgets the name of her golden retrievers, Jorja and Beau. Recently, her mom asked her what is "12" plus "12," and Maria answered: "Oh, '12' times '12' is 144."
Maria hasn't fully grasped that she is blind. When a doctor broke that news, Maria shook his hand and said: "Thank you."
In recent weeks, her trademark wit has returned.
A group of friends visited and asked Maria if she knew why she was in the hospital.
"My girlfriends put me in here because they are all so tired of the competition," Maria wisecracked.
Prosecutors are weighing whether to charge the driver who was hauling the load that flew off and struck Maria's car.
Robin says she doesn't have time to be angry or assign blame. Her focus is on her daughter, who faces a long, difficult and costly road of rehabilitation for the brain injury and blindness.
Compassion has showered the mother and daughter, suggesting that there just might be something to the notion of karma. The good you put out in the world does come back to you.
When Robin was a young woman she was dating a man who became a quadriplegic after a football injury.
Robin stuck by him during what she called his "tour of duty."
After Maria got hurt, one of the first people to show up at the hospital was that ex-boyfriend -- Jeff Sykes -- and his wife, Bev. Jeff and Bev have spent countless hours at Harborview.
They are part of a widening support network of family, friends and strangers -- from burly Belltown bouncers who offer bear hugs and share tears, to one woman in Covington who heard about Maria and decided to donate her latte-stand money.
Young Maria has touched so many because she defies the odds even as she lives up to her family name.
Miracle.
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