So where do I start, I guess with I was recently involved in an incident evolving the 7 train and lets just say I lost. As a result I lost my left Arm and suffered a broken left leg, which will have me wheelchair bound the next few months. I'll get into the details after introducing myself.
My name is Angel Ariel Flores born in brooklyn raised in Queens 80's baby. Single father of an amazing 8yr old daughter with an amazingly supportive co-parenting relationship. I served in the United States Marine Corps for 10yrs with 2nd battalion 25th Marnie's deploying to Nasiriyah Iraq in 2003 as part of operating the EPW facility and jumping on many different ADSW orders following years to include in support of 29palms War fighting Lab and redeployment support. I then joined North American Airlines as a Flight Attendant with amazing pilots and cabin crews for a few years transporting military personnel back and forth between the USA and conflict zones and areas of interest. With the Airline at times getting the privilege to transport a few VIPs like former presidents and celebrities, although we all know our troops are the true VIPs. In the short years following I have ventured into everything from a wine shop, beer shop, bar, and poke restaurant, to finally a construction company. Which I can now admit I lost do to my PTSD and ignoring it for all these years and trying to pretend I was "OK". I attended LGACC-Laguardia Community College in the pursuit of criminal justice and public speaking degrees, and eventually also attended ICC-The International Culinary Center Learning to refine my throw down in the kitchen. In 2019 the pandemic hit and brought its own challenges.I made the best of it by assisting many restaurants in LIC and a few in Green Point and Astoria save there business with renovations to insure the safety of there staff and customers from Covid and with building some of the first out door dining seating spaces, completely focused around pedestrian and covid safety. So now the details of the incident as i can recall it.
Early this January after visiting a Friend and stopping by local businesses in Long Island City to show support and see if any of my services winterizing the outdoor dining spaces were needed, I continued on my way home in the early morning hours. I remember walking down into the subway and waiting for my subway train as my anxiety kicked in unexplained the smell of oil or musk and my paranoia of being followed soon took hold of me, my PTSD once again pulling me some where between the past desert war and the present moment. The train doors opened and I hesitated to get on, and last minute. I jolt toward the open subway cart door just to get pinned by my backpack with only a quarter of my body in the train cart and boom the train pulled off. I get slammed into the tunnel wall gate entrance breaking my left leg in three places I later learn and pop out the cart like a cherry. I then fall onto the tracks yelling nonsense realizing I couldn't get back up, do to my disoriented condition from the impact. So I lay down and begin to wedge myself into a water ditch in-between the tracks right before passing out. Unfortunately I didn't get my left arm in before passing out and the following train smashed it while I was passed out. I get pulled out from underneath the following subway train, and transported to a manhattan hospital. As I lay passed out on the operating table bleeding out, I wake up to a team of doctors discussing ideas on how to stop the bleeding. I say "just take the arm" and pass back out. A few hours later I wakeup to my doctor's telling me they didn't take my arm because I told them to but because they had no choice. I said it was ok, thank you I'm alive.... so why am I asking for help.
Donations will be greatly appreciated and used towards adaptive modifications to my place of residence, transportation, and finding a new way of living while I am wheelchair bound and living with one arm. Donations will also help with any out of pocket cost I will have while awaiting another surgery to be able to get fitted with a bionic arm and out of pocket cost associated with that also. Continuing my journey combating my PTSD and hopefully being able to help others do the same. Most importantly allow me to still provide for my main concern my precious 8yr old daughter the one thing that kept me alive and fighting all this time. Even after needing to be given a little over ten bags of blood over a period of a few days to stay alive. I truly humble myself and thank everyone that can contribute or even just share this, so someone else may be able to assist me and my journey to recovery.