In 1979, I was a gorgeous 23-year-old. On Dec. 16 of that year, a drunk driver slammed into my car, head-on. The force of his truck and my car, both traveling 40 mph tore the driver's door off my car. It also tore my nose off my face, in addition to dozens of other injuries. I had many broken bones, and by the time my face was pieced together, my face alone had 250 stitches in it.
I was glad to see in Burgetta Eplin Wheeler's Jan. 27 column "Driving home the dangers of drinking" that Judge Robert Rader told his high school audience that it's not just about them. Every time I read or hear about someone's DWI, especially if they're complaining about the consequences, I think about how I live with those consequences every day.
People tell me they can't see the scars, but I've always suspected that they're just being kind.
