By Maggie Blackwell
mblackwell@salisburypost.com
The accident flashes in freeze-frame action. She’s traveling south, approaching the Yadkin River bridge. A white Silverado crosses the median, headed her way.
The pickup bursts through the median’s cable barrier and crashes head-on with the car in front of her. The two cars rise into the air, nose to nose. They spin out of control, finally stopping horizontally across Interstate 85.
“I feel strange being in the paper about this,” Alyssa Florida says, “but I understand it is meant to encourage others.”
Alyssa Florida doesn’t look like a hero. She has that kind of face that radiates optimism. Her athletic frame still looks like that of a college girl ó and she almost is, having just graduated from Catawba last spring.
Alyssa grew up in Salisbury and attended Overton Elementary and Knox Middle schools. She’s in her first year at Faith Elementary School, where she teaches academically and intellectually gifted students.
She’s close with her family and was returning from a visit with her sister in Maryland on March 8 when the whole hero thing evolved.
“I grabbed my phone and ran to the car in front of me,” she says. “The whole front of the car was flat to the passenger compartment. The windshield wiper reservoir jug was in the passenger seat, that’s how badly the car was damaged. The windshield, driver’s window, and rear windshield were all broken out. The rear axle was broken.
“Ann McIntyre was bleeding from her nose, and her eyes blinked very slowly,” she says. “Somehow I knew I had to keep her breathing, and keep her conscious.”
When bystanders attempted to remove McIntyre from the car, Florida intervened, somehow knowing that to do so would exacerbate her injuries, maybe even kill her.
“I had one first aid class in 10th grade and never used it,” she says. “I believe I knew these things because God was with me.”
Hospital staff later confirmed Florida did save McIntyre’s life. She lost a great deal of blood and was in shock. Both lungs were punctured. If she had lost consciousness, she would likely have died before ever reaching the hospital.
Florida stayed with McIntyre as they waited for rescue personnel to arrive ó about 20 minutes, she says. She crouched beside the driver’s window, encouraging her, audibly breathing with her, talking to her, keeping her engaged.
A few minutes after the accident, Florida asked McIntyre whom she needed to call. Her husband, Steve, McIntyre said, and gave her the number. Florida called and told him his wife was involved in a serious accident.
He already knew. Ann McIntyre had been on the phone with their daughter, Michelle, when the accident occurred. Michelle heard her mother scream, heard a horrific crash, and then, nothing.
Rescuers never found the phone.
Steve McIntyre serves as pastor of Cool Springs United Methodist Church in Clarkesville, Georgia. He was just leaving the Sunday evening service when Florida called him.
“It was like an angel’s voice when she called me,” Steve McIntyre says. “We knew she had had an accident and she was somewhere in North Carolina.”
Steve McIntyre told Florida he was on his way and that it would take a couple of hours for him to arrive. Ann McIntyre’s best friend, Becky, was at the church. She accompanied Steve on the trip.
Florida asked him to save her phone number in his phone so he could call for more details as he traveled. It’s still in there, under the name, “Good Samaritan.”
Steve McIntyre later wondered why Florida kept repeating that the accident wasn’t his wife’s fault, and that she was conscious.
“They were the only positive things I could find to say,” Florida explained. “I never told him she would be OK. I wasn’t sure it was true.”
When firefighters arrived and used the Jaws of Life to get Ann McIntyre out of the car, Florida moved out of the way but stayed in McIntyre’s line of vision, yelling over the noise of the device to keep her motivated.
Medics removed Ann McIntyre from the car and placed her in an ambulance, calling for a helicopter to take her to Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center in Winston-Salem.
The helicopter landed on I-85. Traffic was backed up for miles anyway, so it didn’t interfere with the flow.
When the helicopter finally left, Florida says, she broke down and cried. She had worked so hard to keep Ann McIntyre going, and now she was gone. The terror of the accident finally dawned on her.
Florida felt committed to McIntyre and could not head home. She drove to the next exit, turned around and headed to the hospital.
She stayed there two days.
“I was alone there in the waiting room at the ER, scared to death,” Florida says. “I didn’t know if she was alive or dead. They couldn’t tell me anything. I’m not family.”
Steve McIntyre disagrees on this point. He now calls Florida his third daughter.
When they were finally allowed to see Ann McIntyre, Becky brought Florida in.
“Do you remember me?” Florida asked. Ann McIntyre did.
She only remembers one other thing from the accident. As the chopper left the ground, an attendant remarked, “She won’t make it.”
Florida, a new employee with the school system, called her supervisors and explained the situation. She took two days off work to stay at the hospital until Ann McIntyre was out of the woods.
In addition to punctured lungs, McIntyre suffered 49 broken bones. Her pelvis and ankle were crushed. Her bladder was torn. She was on a ventilator for some time but now has had a tracheotomy.
After returning to work, Florida drove to Winston-Salem nightly to visit her new friend. Altogether, she thinks she spent eight to 10 nights sleeping in chairs in the intensive-care unit waiting room, where the fluorescent lights burn 24 hours a day.
When asked why she continued to go, Florida says, “I had started a job. I had to see it through.”
As the weeks wore on and she saw there was no imminent resolution, Florida began to travel only every other night. Five weeks later, she went two to three times a week.
Meanwhile, Florida contacted everyone in her personal network to support the McIntyre family: Cornerstone Baptist Church in Cleveland, her Facebook friends, e-mail contacts, teachers at Faith Elementary. A friend involved First Baptist in Salisbury. They all responded, with prayers, cards, and care packages for the family: food, cookies, books. One friend even helped Florida with gas money for all the travel.
At Easter, Florida went to visit her mom. She said a special goodbye to Ann McIntyre before leaving. She began to exit the room, but McIntyre, with her one good hand, feebly motioned Florida back to her bedside.
Still unable to speak, she mouthed two words: “Thank you.”
“That was my first serious one-on-one connected moment. It was very meaningful for me and a good note to leave on,” Florida says. “I cannot wait until she can speak so we can really talk.”
Becky says Ann McIntyre is a thoughtful and giving person. She teaches Sunday School. She has worked for the same small-town law firm for over 30 years. McIntyre and her husband often share books, reading aloud to each other. They go to the movies together every Friday night. After thirty years of marriage, they still hold hands.
Today, McIntyre cannot stand or even sit up. She cannot speak. She cannot move anything except her right arm, and she can’t do that very well. She can’t even write yet to communicate. She has three recipient sites and two donor sites from plastic surgery. She has a new hip, six breaks to her pelvis, pins and plates in her left arm, screws in her right femur and hardware inside and outside her right leg and foot. She has a tracheotomy that requires care, a wound in the back of her head that requires regular surgical cleaning and a couple of wound infections.
She was recently moved from Winston-Salem to a critical care facility in Georgia, closer to home.
Florida will continue to travel to see her.
Steve McIntyre cannot say enough about his gratitude to Florida. “In my humble opinion, God sent an angel our way the night this happened, a young lady with strong faith and commitment. She renews my faith in today’s youth. I thank God for her.”
Florida smiles. “I know I gave her comfort with my tranquility. I don’t know how I wasn’t afraid, but I wasn’t. It was all I could do. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“If the Silverado hadn’t hit her, it would have hit me,” Florida says. After a pause, she says, “I owe her my life.”
Contributions to Ann McIntyre’s medical expenses can be sent to her church: Cool Springs United Methodist, Cool Springs Road, Clarkesville, GA, 30523.