Hit N' Run Devastating Pedestrian Rundown!

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Help Me, My Puppy, My Cat Survive and I Rebuild Following an Unbearable and Devastating DUI Crash On October 18, 2024, a drunk driver didn’t just hit me—he obliterated my existence. At 46, while in my custom power wheelchair, tending to my new puppy in Massachusetts—still reeling from the loss of my 16-year-old emotional support cat, Beaner, killed in August 2024 by a drunk neighbor who backed over him. We were struck by a "stolen" truck in a violent crash that made headlines in our local newspaper and left witnesses horrified. The impact demolished my $30,000 power wheelchair, a custom-built lifeline for my medical needs, kept in mint condition with receipts to prove it. My backpack and belongings—cell phone, TENS unit, medical supplies, and clothing cut off at the scene—were destroyed or stolen when local police refused to let my family or friends secure my wheelchair and items, leaving them abandoned to thieves in the night. My puppy and my surviving cat, who both endured the crash, bear scars of trauma that haunt us daily. My cat, who lost his brother Beaner that August day, also witnessed the trauma of his mom (me) and his little puppy brother being struck by that truck, carrying his own grief and watching our collective pain unfold. I was airlifted by helicopter to a trauma center, where I fought to live, utterly alone, with no family or friends to hold my hand in the chaos. I’ve learned to call this radical acceptance, but it’s a crushing truth—life’s darkest moments have left me isolated, with no support system, only 5% help at best, and a loneliness so profound it suffocates my soul. At the trauma center, I wasn’t offered surgeries but was promised coordinated care, including a full-body head-to-toe MRI within 48 hours of discharge to assess my injuries. That MRI never happened. My primary care provider abandoned me, leaving me in excruciating pain and uncertainty. Seven months later, I’m still without my wheelchair, and the crash’s long-term internal damage has ravaged my body. Since May 9, 2025, my kidney function has plummeted 25%, dropping to a terrifying 42% as of May 20, 2025, demanding urgent specialist care I can’t afford. I have an attorney, but the driver’s three infractions and intoxication mean the insurance company offers nothing. My $20,000 policy on the Matrix—a car so faulty it wouldn’t pass inspection, sold by the neighbor who killed Beaner—has left me with no compensation, betrayed twice by those who should have cared. My insurance refuses to cover motor vehicle-related therapy or medical bills, and surviving on less than $1,000 a month from Social Security, unable to work, I’m drowning in bills and despair. Living with my elderly parents, alongside my 26-year-old daughter, having lost my housing voucher, I’m paralyzed by fear of stepping outside, and public transit isn’t an option—I’m not on any route. My puppy, who endured the crash, and my cat, who grieves his brother Beaner while witnessing our ongoing trauma, are my only light, but they need care, too. The financial, emotional, spiritual, and physical toll has hurled me onto a path I never fathomed—a trajectory of agony, uncertainty, and isolation I battle daily to survive. I’m a violent crime survivor, a struggler, a fighter. I fought to live through that crash, and I still fight to live, to breathe, to cling to hope in a life derailed by another’s recklessness. But I can’t do it alone. With no one to turn to, I’m pleading with you, my community, for help to rebuild what’s left of me, my puppy, and my cat. I’m fundraising to cover these critical needs: $20,000 toward a new custom power wheelchair to restore my mobility and independence, replacing the one I’ve been without for seven months, essential for my medical needs. $5,000 to replace personal items lost or stolen, including medical supplies, electronics, cell phone, TENS unit, and clothing cut off at the scene or taken with my abandoned backpack. $15,000 for a used vehicle with a wheelchair platform to provide safe transportation, as I’m too afraid to walk and have no access to public transit. $20,000 for housing support, such as a security deposit and initial rent for a one-bedroom handicap-accessible unit (starting at $1,400/month without utilities) or a two-bedroom ($1,800/month, with shorter waitlists), as I’ve been on a housing waitlist since 2018, next in line since 2022, with nothing available. $10,000 for living expenses and medical care, including groceries, bills, veterinary care for my puppy and cat, urgent specialist visits, diagnostics (like an MRI), and therapy to address my neglected injuries, kidney decline to 42%, and the crushing emotional toll on me and my animals. Every dollar raised will go directly toward these goals, prioritized by urgency—starting with my wheelchair and medical care, then transportation, housing, and basic needs for me, my puppy, and my cat. If the full $70,000 goal isn’t met, I’ll allocate funds to the most pressing needs first, ensuring your generosity makes the greatest impact. GoFundMe’s fees (2.9% + $0.30 per donation) will apply, but I’ll be transparent about how every contribution is used. This crash, compounded by Beaner’s loss and a worthless car policy, didn’t just steal my possessions—it stole my health, my safety, my spirit, and my future. The neglect by my primary care provider has left me wrestling with untreated injuries, now worsened by a kidney crisis spiraling out of control. The physical agony is rivaled only by the mental and spiritual torment of facing this alone, with no one to share the burden. My cat, grieving his brother and witnessing the trauma of his mom and puppy brother, carries his own pain, compounded by watching our despair. Trapped in dependence with my parents and daughter, my dreams of independence are buried under medical bills and fear. My puppy and cat, my only companions, grieve Beaner as I do, and I fight for us all to find a way forward. I want to show my daughter, my puppy, my cat, and myself that I can rise above this nightmare, but I’m barely clinging to life, and I need your help to keep fighting. Times are tough, so if you can’t donate, please share this campaign with friends, family, or Massachusetts communities. A kind word or a share on social media is a lifeline for someone with no one else. I’m exploring other resources, like the Massachusetts Victim Compensation Fund, but their process is slow, and my needs are urgent. Thank you from the depths of my broken but fighting heart for reading our story and considering supporting me, my puppy, and my cat. Your generosity will help us replace what was lost, fight for my health, and reclaim a shred of hope after this devastating crash. Together, we can turn this tragedy into a testament to survival. With gratitude, A Survivor

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Help Me, My Puppy, My Cat Survive and I Rebuild Following an Unbearable and Devastating DUI Crash

On October 18, 2024, a drunk driver didn’t just hit me—he obliterated my existence. At 46, while in my custom power wheelchair, tending to my new puppy in Massachusetts—still reeling from the loss of my 16-year-old emotional support cat, Beaner, killed in August 2024 by a drunk neighbor who backed over him.

We were struck by a "stolen" truck in a violent crash that made headlines in our local newspaper and left witnesses horrified.

The impact demolished my $30,000 power wheelchair, a custom-built lifeline for my medical needs, kept in mint condition with receipts to prove it. My backpack and belongings—cell phone, TENS unit, medical supplies, and clothing cut off at the scene—were destroyed or stolen when local police refused to let my family or friends secure my wheelchair and items, leaving them abandoned to thieves in the night. My puppy and my surviving cat, who both endured the crash, bear scars of trauma that haunt us daily. My cat, who lost his brother Beaner that August day, also witnessed the trauma of his mom (me) and his little puppy brother being struck by that truck, carrying his own grief and watching our collective pain unfold.

I was airlifted by helicopter to a trauma center, where I fought to live, utterly alone, with no family or friends to hold my hand in the chaos. I’ve learned to call this radical acceptance, but it’s a crushing truth—life’s darkest moments have left me isolated, with no support system, only 5% help at best, and a loneliness so profound it suffocates my soul. At the trauma center, I wasn’t offered surgeries but was promised coordinated care, including a full-body head-to-toe MRI within 48 hours of discharge to assess my injuries. That MRI never happened. My primary care provider abandoned me, leaving me in excruciating pain and uncertainty. Seven months later, I’m still without my wheelchair, and the crash’s long-term internal damage has ravaged my body. Since May 9, 2025, my kidney function has plummeted 25%, dropping to a terrifying 42% as of May 20, 2025, demanding urgent specialist care I can’t afford.

I have an attorney, but the driver’s three infractions and intoxication mean the insurance company offers nothing. My $20,000 policy on the Matrix—a car so faulty it wouldn’t pass inspection, sold by the neighbor who killed Beaner—has left me with no compensation, betrayed twice by those who should have cared. My insurance refuses to cover motor vehicle-related therapy or medical bills, and surviving on less than $1,000 a month from Social Security, unable to work, I’m drowning in bills and despair. Living with my elderly parents, alongside my 26-year-old daughter, having lost my housing voucher, I’m paralyzed by fear of stepping outside, and public transit isn’t an option—I’m not on any route. My puppy, who endured the crash, and my cat, who grieves his brother Beaner while witnessing our ongoing trauma, are my only light, but they need care, too. The financial, emotional, spiritual, and physical toll has hurled me onto a path I never fathomed—a trajectory of agony, uncertainty, and isolation I battle daily to survive.

I’m a violent crime survivor, a struggler, a fighter. I fought to live through that crash, and I still fight to live, to breathe, to cling to hope in a life derailed by another’s recklessness. But I can’t do it alone. With no one to turn to, I’m pleading with you, my community, for help to rebuild what’s left of me, my puppy, and my cat.

I’m fundraising to cover these critical needs:

$20,000 toward a new custom power wheelchair to restore my mobility and independence, replacing the one I’ve been without for seven months, essential for my medical needs.

$5,000 to replace personal items lost or stolen, including medical supplies, electronics, cell phone, TENS unit, and clothing cut off at the scene or taken with my abandoned backpack.

$15,000 for a used vehicle with a wheelchair platform to provide safe transportation, as I’m too afraid to walk and have no access to public transit.

$20,000 for housing support, such as a security deposit and initial rent for a one-bedroom handicap-accessible unit (starting at $1,400/month without utilities) or a two-bedroom ($1,800/month, with shorter waitlists), as I’ve been on a housing waitlist since 2018, next in line since 2022, with nothing available.

$10,000 for living expenses and medical care, including groceries, bills, veterinary care for my puppy and cat, urgent specialist visits, diagnostics (like an MRI), and therapy to address my neglected injuries, kidney decline to 42%, and the crushing emotional toll on me and my animals.

Every dollar raised will go directly toward these goals, prioritized by urgency—starting with my wheelchair and medical care, then transportation, housing, and basic needs for me, my puppy, and my cat. If the full $70,000 goal isn’t met, I’ll allocate funds to the most pressing needs first, ensuring your generosity makes the greatest impact. GoFundMe’s fees (2.9% + $0.30 per donation) will apply, but I’ll be transparent about how every contribution is used.

This crash, compounded by Beaner’s loss and a worthless car policy, didn’t just steal my possessions—it stole my health, my safety, my spirit, and my future. The neglect by my primary care provider has left me wrestling with untreated injuries, now worsened by a kidney crisis spiraling out of control. The physical agony is rivaled only by the mental and spiritual torment of facing this alone, with no one to share the burden. My cat, grieving his brother and witnessing the trauma of his mom and puppy brother, carries his own pain, compounded by watching our despair. Trapped in dependence with my parents and daughter, my dreams of independence are buried under medical bills and fear. My puppy and cat, my only companions, grieve Beaner as I do, and I fight for us all to find a way forward. I want to show my daughter, my puppy, my cat, and myself that I can rise above this nightmare, but I’m barely clinging to life, and I need your help to keep fighting.

Times are tough, so if you can’t donate, please share this campaign with friends, family, or Massachusetts communities. A kind word or a share on social media is a lifeline for someone with no one else. I’m exploring other resources, like the Massachusetts Victim Compensation Fund, but their process is slow, and my needs are urgent.

Thank you from the depths of my broken but fighting heart for reading our story and considering supporting me, my puppy, and my cat. Your generosity will help us replace what was lost, fight for my health, and reclaim a shred of hope after this devastating crash. Together, we can turn this tragedy into a testament to survival.

With gratitude,

A Survivor

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