Between Iron Bars and Guardian Angels (EN)

Processing the Unthinkable

During a leadership offsite in Texas USA, Ruben Spruijt experienced a life-threatening accident. Despite the chaos and potential for catastrophic outcomes, quick actions by his colleagues, skilled medical care, and a series of remarkable ‘coincidences’ ensured his survival. Ruben reflects on the accident, the role of faith, teamwork, and resilience in his recovery, and his deep gratitude.

His main goal in writing this article is to reflect on and process what he witnessed and better understand what happened on January 15th. Others have encouraged him to do the same, and he believes that putting his thoughts into words will help him in this process. He’s also writing this because the series of miracles and coincidences surrounding the event are worth sharing. Beyond his own sense of wonder, he believes someone might find value in his story

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Strategic Alignment, Bridges, Bonding, and VR

The week of January 15th, 2025, I was in San Antonio, Texas, USA, with eight other senior leadership colleagues from Dizzion. The primary goal of this trip was to discuss, plan, align, and optimize our organization and discuss business strategy for 2025 and beyond. An equally important part of the trip was getting to know each other better and building stronger connections, as many of us hadn’t met in person before. The pandemic, remote work, and the ~1.5 years since Dizzion and Frame merged into one organization (as a spinoff from Nutanix) made meeting face-to-face challenging. It was great to meet colleagues in person and spend time together.

Before Wednesday the 15th, we had already completed a full day of meetings where we tackled key topics such as customer growth, churn, team dynamics, market opportunities, and our unique position in the End User Computing industry. In preparation for the event, we had all completed the 5-Voices survey. We reviewed and discussed the results with a coach, gaining valuable insights into our team dynamics. That evening, we had a fantastic time with about 20 colleagues who live in San Antonio. We threw axes, enjoyed a beer, and played VR games. Mary, Z, Denise, R2, and I teamed up to fight zombies. As many of you know, I’m a huge Top Gun fan, so naturally, my call sign on the leaderboard was ‘Maverick.’ With 287 zombie headshots, I proudly lived up to the name.

A Day at Geronimo Creek Ranch

On January 15th, I woke up early, partly due to jet lag and partly because we had to leave the hotel early for the ~2-hour drive to the ranch located northwest of San Antonio. We gathered in the hotel lobby, and with two cars, we headed to Geronimo Creek Ranch. Five colleagues rode in the first car, while three colleagues and I stepped in Rob's big truck. Rob, the CEO of our company (Dizzion – Desktop as a Service), is a remarkable pioneer and a man of faith. He lives in San Antonio with his wife and kids. Rob and I had met a few times over the past 1.5 years, but this was my first time meeting Chris and Denise in person.

Together with my colleagues Chris, Denise, and Rob, we had a relaxed and insightful conversation about family, kids, the USA, the Netherlands, travel, books we’ve read, and the lessons we’ve taken from them. It was nice to chat about non-work topics as well. Halfway through the trip, we stopped at ‘BBQ - Eat Miler’ for breakfast. Who doesn’t love a brisket sandwich at 8:36 AM? I couldn’t find a healthier option, so I happily used that as an excuse to order that brisket sandwich . After breakfast, we did some grocery shopping at a massive Walmart. I have been to Walmart before, but never one this big—it was huge! While there, I picked up some outdoor boots since we were on a ranch, and things were sure to get dusty. I didn’t want to ruin my brand-new Nike CrossFit trainers or my relatively new ON running shoes, and as a Dutch guy, 40$ for waterproof leather outdoor boots is a great deal.

The day before we arrived at Geronimo Creek Ranch, Rob had already driven a trailer loaded with a buggy and an All-Terrain Vehicle (ATV) to the property. A close friend of Rob’s owns this family ranch, a massive property surrounded by a professional fence and gate. The property is often used for "guys’/gals’ weekends," including enjoying the silence, hanging out at the pool, BBQ, or firepit, shooting, and hunting zebras, antelopes, and other “wildlife.” Haha, welcome to Texas, I thought.

Business, BBQ, and Buggy Ride

We arrived at the house around 10:00 AM. After unloading the groceries and stocking the refrigerator, we took a brief walk around the property. Rob then gave us a safety briefing. The key takeaway: there are big spiders, scorpions, and venomous snakes around, so “don’t put your hand into holes,” and “always check your surroundings, especially near bushes”. Copy!

While some colleagues set up Starlink for internet and WiFi, I explored the house, looking for a power extension cord for my laptop. I eventually found a large cord in a room that also stored ammunition and housed two large gun safes. Based on the ammunition I saw, I could imagine the safes holding pistols, shotguns, and sniper rifles. After plugging in my laptop, I checked Starlink speed and ran a Frame session. As expected, our solution worked seamlessly, even in this remote location with higher latency. Although I already knew it would, it was still great to see and use it in action myself —especially since it was my first time using Starlink.

Before we began the first business block, we took a short break for refreshments. I walked around the living space, noticing several personal touches. Rob’s friend, it seemed, is a man of faith—there was a Bible verse posted on the wall, a few Bibles on the table, travel books, and cookbooks with recipes, judging by their covers. On top of two larger books, I spotted a smaller daily diary. Curious, I opened it, and the first page I saw was dated “January 15th.” It struck me as a funny coincidence, as that was the exact date displayed on my Garmin watch. I snapped a photo of the diary (time: 10:20 AM) to share with Jacoline later, planning to say, “Look… how funny is this? I randomly opened a daily diary to today’s date!” At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to the written text inside.

We started the first block with business topics and discussions. I’ll spare you the business details since I am under NDA (), but after that session, ChrisT, ChrisK, and I headed to a local BBQ restaurant to pick up our order. As many of you know, I’m a big fan of BBQ, so walking into this cozy, down-to-earth “mom and pop” spot, filled with regular folks and the smell of smoked meat, was a treat. We drove back to the ranch, about 20 minutes away, and enjoyed the food and conversations. Then, we dove into the second block of business discussions. After wrapping up that session, we took a short break. Some of the team explored the property, checking out the surroundings, while Yangzhi and I had some fun with RC cars and a DJI drone. The gear was amazing, and I couldn’t help but think how great it is to have a professional, friendly, and knowledgeable CEO colleague who’s also a bit of a “grown-up kid.” His love for gadgets—like RC cars, drones, the Apple Vision Pro, buggies, and All Terrain Vehicles (ATVs)— is great!.

We continued with the third block of discussions and conversations. Afterward, it was time to gear up with helmets and gloves as the ATV and buggy were ready to roll. Yang-Zhi and I took the buggy, following Rob and three other colleagues in the ATV as we navigated through bushes, hills, and dusty trails. Z started as the driver while I rode as the co-pilot. Halfway through, we switched seats, and I got behind the wheel. The ride wasn’t particularly fast—around 25–30 mph—but it was safe and a lot of fun. Everyone had a chance to either drive the buggy or ride as a passenger in the four-person ATV.

We began the fourth and final block of business discussions, and after a while, we decided to take a break and continued our conversations while walking to a nearby pond. The fresh air really helped clear our minds and opened the dialogue. By the time we returned, it was around 5:00 PM. Chris T. and Chris K. had already started building a bonfire. Judging by the smell of burning wood mixed with gasoline, I could tell they had taken the ‘quick start’ approach. I gathered some additional dry wood from the area since the larger logs weren’t completely dry. About 20 minutes later, we had a nice fire burning. We continued our (mostly) business discussions, but I also took a moment to enjoy the fire, the view, and the great company. It’s such a privilege to have no neighbors nearby—within a ~4-kilometer (~2-mile) radius; it’s just open land. That means you can make a fire, play loud music, shoot some guns, race an ATV, and not worry about anyone complaining – not too bad!

We drank sodas and water, snacked on chips and fruit, and finished the BBQ leftovers before tidying up the house. When we locked the door and headed back to our hotel, it was around 7:30 PM.

Checking Clearance

The first car, carrying five colleagues, left ahead of us. Rob’s big vehicle, with the connected trailer loaded with the buggy and ATV, followed second. Inside were Chris, Denise, Rob, and me. As Rob drove downhill to the gate, he opened the large metal doors and drove the trailer forward a bit before stopping halfway through. He turned to us and said, “Yesterday, when I dropped off the trailer with the buggy and ATV, it was a close call with the gate—it barely fit the bar above me. Chris and Ruben, can you check if the roof of the ATV clears the gate bar?” we stepped out to look, and that’s when the ‘freak accident’ began.

Chris and I walked toward the trailer to check the clearance. Chris climbed onto the trailer on the driver’s side, while I got on from the passenger’s side. From my position, I could clearly see that the roof of the ATV, including its six or seven headlights, would hit the large iron bar of the gate. To get the ATV through, its height would need to be lowered. Rob and/or Chris used a yellow lashing strap to press down the ATV's suspension, effectively lowering it. Once the suspension was lowered, Chris and I both double-checked the height. Using my phone’s flashlight, I confirmed that the ATV's roof and headlights would clear the first metal bar of the gate. Up until this point, I was standing outside the ATV. I thought, why not sit inside the ATV? Adding my weight would lower the suspension even more, providing additional clearance.

As Rob slowly drove the truck and trailer forward, a deafening “iron-on-iron” screech pierced through the dark, cold evening. Rob immediately stopped the car. In that split second, I leaned forward headfirst through the ATV's front ‘window’ to see what had happened. My head was above the roof as I looked left, trying to locate the impact source at the back of the ATV’s roof.

Headfirst, Struck by Iron

With my head above the ATV, still searching for the source of the noise on the roof of the ATV, Rob continued driving a few more meters (or feet). That’s when my head struck the second large iron bar. The bar, of course, was solid and stationary, and I wasn’t aware of his bar, but the trailer continued moving toward it. The right side of my head hit the bar first. Instinctively, I turned my head and ducked to avoid further impact, but in the process, my left ear struck the metal side of the ATV’s roof.

Later, as I spoke with friends and family and reviewed photos from the incident, the gravity of the situation became clear. If Rob had driven even a little faster, if my head had been just a few centimeters (or inches) higher above the ATV roof, or if my reflexes hadn’t been so quick, the outcome could have been devastating. I could have been killed instantly, my head crushed between the ATV roof and the iron bar. At the very least, I might have been physically paralyzed and/or mentally disabled.

These are the terrifying "what-ifs" that didn’t happen, and I feel really blessed for that. Writing this now, just a week after the accident, in good mental and good-ish physical health, feels like nothing short of a miracle.

Later, when I analysed the situation, it became clear what had gone wrong. Rob had warned us earlier that he wasn't sure the ATV would fit since the gate was on a downhill slope. The problem was simple: the back of the ATV’s roof was slightly higher than the front, which meant it had hit the metal bar. Duh!

I was laying on the ground in the passenger seat, feeling a sharp pain in my head. Instinctively, I reached up and felt something warm and slushy on my scalp. When I looked at my right hand, it was covered in blood—my arm, too. This is not good, I thought…

The thought crossed my mind for a brief moment: This is it. This is the end of my life on earth. Strangely, in that same instant, I found myself singing a song - in my mind - a song to God about His love for me and my love for Him. It was a short moment, but it was real.

Note: A few days later, when I was back home and when my brother-in-law came over to check on me and talk through the details of what had happened, I remembered it clearly. That memory hit me hard—it was emotional, but I’m sure it happened. The realization that I was so close to death, yet still singing a song to God, still stirs something deep inside me. It’s overwhelming to think about. I can’t recall exactly which song I sang then, but I know it’s one I’ve sung before and it’s about God’s love for me and my trust in Him. When the timing is right, I trust it will return to me.

While I was on the ground of the ATV, Chris turned to me and asked, “Ruben, are you okay?” He asked because he had lightly bumped his head against a pole. I responded calmly, “No, no, not good. Not good at all.”

By then, Rob had jumped out of the truck and quickly used his phone’s flashlight to assess the situation. He saw me sitting on the floor of the ATV, blood covering the right side of my head, with a visible 5 by 5 cm (2 by 2 inch) hole. Despite the severity of the situation, I hadn’t lost consciousness during the accident, which felt like a small relief amidst the chaos. I remember Rob walking back to the truck momentarily, muttering curses with intense energy, trying to process what had just happened.

My body was shaking uncontrollably from both trauma and the cold as I lay on the bare metal floor of the ATV. I pulled up the hood of my hoodie to cover my head. The hood also covered most of the bloody wound on my head, so my colleagues—Denise, Chris, and Rob—had no idea how severe the injury really was.

Later, in the hospital, I learned the cut was around 12 inches (25 cm) long and at widest point 2 inches (5cm). At the time, however, Chris had only seen the blood pooling beneath the hood and estimated the wound to be about 2 inches (5 cm). He shared that detail with the 911 operator when calling for help.

A side note: on Sunday, I showered my head for the first time since the accident and finally saw the wound in its entirety. It wasn’t a straight line, as I’d assumed —it was shaped like a fishhook. The cut ran from the top of my head down the side. The realization was shocking, I had been scalped. When I turned my head and reflexively ducked to avoid the metal bar, my ear struck the roof of the ATV, causing the injury. Wow, Shit!

Meanwhile, Denise stepped out of the truck and stood behind me. She grabbed an extra (ControlUp - LOL) hoodie from Rob, which he had in the back of his car, and tried to warm me. Wrapping the hoodie around me, she placed one arm on my forehead wound and the other over my heart, saying something like, “Let my mother’s hands try to warm you.”

I started searching for my phone but couldn’t find it. I asked Chris if he could look for it, and he found it on the roof of the ATV. He handed it to me, and at 2:57 AM Netherlands time, I sent my wife, Jacoline, two hearts via WhatsApp. I also quickly took a photo of myself but didn’t look at it and, thankfully, had the clarity not to send the photo to her. A single thought slipped through my mind: This might be the last thing she hears or sees from me!

Help is Underway - Stay Where You Are

Just a few minutes later, Chris called 911 while Rob worked on finding the ranch's address, which was truly in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how long that took, but Denise stayed behind me during that time, providing comfort.

At one point, I called out Rob’s name three times. He didn’t hear me the first two times, but on the third, he did. He was standing near the front of the ATV, and I asked him to pray for me and the situation. Rob and I had previously shared conversations about business and personal topics during our 1:1s, so I already knew we were spiritually aligned. At that moment, his prayer felt deeply reassuring. I don’t know exactly what he prayed, but I believe the prayer to God was a cry to God for help, and it did help me and others at that time and maybe later as well.

Note: Why do these miracles—or what some might call coincidences, happen to me and not to others? Why am I still here, in good mental and physical health? These are good questions; honestly, I don’t have the answers. I know that miracles can and do happen—I’ve witnessed a few in my life—and surviving this freak accident is undoubtedly one of them. There’s more to this story, though. The other coincidences, miracles, or what I like to call “God winks,” will come later. You’ll read about them for sure.

After the prayer, Rob became calmer. A few days later, he shared with me that he felt he was given two tasks after prayer: the first task was to get me out of the ATV and get me into the warmth of the truck since hypothermia was his concern. It was a cold evening—just 4°C (39°F)—and the bare metal floor of the ATV made me start shivering almost instantly. Getting me back into the truck might sound strange because one of the key rules in dealing with accidents is not to move the patient unless necessary. Moving someone without knowing the extent of their head, neck, or back injuries could potentially cause even more harm. However, Rob asked me if I could move. I carefully rolled my head, and everything felt normal-ish. I climbed out of the ATV and with Rob and Chris supporting me, we slowly made our way to the truck. I remember the warm blood rolling down my back as I walked to the truck.

The second thing Rob felt after the prayer was a clear message: “Don’t fix it yourself. stay where you are.” This went against his instinct, as his usual approach is to jump into action with a “see it, fix it” mindset—always eager to help and solve problems quickly. The ambulance was estimated to take 30 minutes to arrive at the entrance gate. Rob’s initial thought was to drive toward the ambulance to save time. However, he later told me that he certainly would have missed the ambulance if he had acted on that impulse. There were three possible routes to the gate: one main “road,” another commonly used “road,” and a third, a very small, rarely used road. And guess where the ambulance came from? The third, least likely route. By staying at the gate and not driving toward the ambulance, Rob ensured they didn’t miss each other and avoided adding more time to the already critical situation.

I managed to climb into the back seat and lay down, still shivering but slowly starting to warm up. Rob had called the ranch property manager—a nephew of the owner who lived nearby—and he came over to help. He brought some blankets, which, combined with the back seat heating and those extra layers, helped me gradually regain warmth.

Later, Chris told me that the property manager had seen a cat cross his path and, on his way to bring the blankets to the accident site, he also ended up hitting a deer with his car, and that night was just after a full moon. Imagine all this happening under the glow of a full moon.

Rob was sitting in the front seat, holding my hand. Every now and then, he gently squeezed it, asking, “Are you still there?” Each time, I reassured him, “Yes—yes, I’m still here.” Three calls were made to 911; one was to ensure they had the correct address. The final call was to confirm how long it would take for the ambulance to arrive. I vaguely remember hearing, “Three minutes, and they will be here.”

The Ride to Care

Around ~08:15PM I was loaded into the ambulance, and Chris joined me – sitting in the front of the truck, carrying my backpack, phone, and wallet. We slowly made our way off the bumpy roads, heading toward San Antonio University Health—a 75-minute drive. I was able to communicate with the paramedics, though it was slow because my head hurt while trying to process and respond in my non-native English language.

I remember a young paramedic who seemed fresh out of school. He knew what he was doing but was also obviously new to the job. It wasn’t quite “learning on the job,” but it felt close. An older, more experienced (and distinguished-looking) paramedic was also assisting him. At one point, the young paramedic began setting up a drip—while the ambulance was moving. I was alert enough to ask him twice if it was really a good idea to do that while driving over bumpy roads. He confidently assured me it was fine. I reluctantly thought, all right, let’s go. I’m not a fan of needles, let alone while lying on a stretcher in a moving vehicle bouncing along uneven roads. But at that moment, I just let it go —after all, things could always be worse – and I was right.

They asked all kinds of questions needed for their dossier—my name, insurance information, date of birth, and current date. I could answer most of them, though I had to refer to some details from my wallet to help them create a file on me.

It’s interesting how the sense of time disappears in moments like this—the ride didn’t feel if the 75 minutes it actually was. About halfway through, the older paramedic told the driver to speed up wherever possible. At the same time, they ran out of the normal "big" bandages to manage the bleeding and had to use “whatever was available.” Despite their efforts, the bleeding still hadn’t stopped by the time we arrived at the hospital. Another strange detail I recall is catching a faint smell of cannabis in the ambulance at one point. It struck me as odd, and I’m almost certain it was just my brain playing tricks on me.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was asked similar questions—my name, date of birth, and insurance details—to create my Electronic Client Record (ECR) dossier. A few minutes later, I was brought into Trauma Room/Emergency Room 12.

My Trauma Room Experience

Since this was a university hospital, I saw several people coming in and out. While I’m no specialist, I think one of them was a “professor” who seemed to be supervising; he mainly walked around asking questions. A main doctor was working with me, along with two medical students observing his actions. I also saw four different nurses, including a main nurse, who connected me to the medical devices.

I learned that the cut went through three layers of tissue and reached the skull. At that point, it wasn’t clear whether I had any brain or skull damage, as the CT scan hadn’t been performed yet. Thankfully, I had never lost consciousness, which was at least one positive sign. Speaking of positives—though somewhat ironic—the injection of anesthesia directly into the wound was excruciating.

I’ve never experienced pain like that before. Even the stitching of the wound was often very painful—likely because the anesthesia didn’t fully cover all the areas or the nerves were cut – I don’t know, it was f#ck sh#t - big time.

A couple of interesting observations: one of the medical students fainted when she saw the wound when I entered the emergency room and had to sit down to avoid losing consciousness completely. Meanwhile, other ‘students’ periodically peeked into the room—likely curious about ‘the Dutch guy’ in the trauma room (or so I assumed) but also to see the severity of the injury. The main nurse commented at the end of the treatment that she hadn’t seen a head wound like this in the 10 years she had been working at the hospital. Hmmm… great ... I thought to myself.

The medical team started stitching the first layer of tissue and had just begun working on the second layer when Chris came into the room to check on me. He was completely shocked—he hadn’t expected the wound to be so severe and so large. Earlier, all he had seen was a 2-inch (5 cm) cut and my blood-covered head, partially hidden by the hood of my hoodie, which made the injury seem much smaller. The reality, however, was far more serious. He shared that his wife was praying for me and for a speedy recovery.

I asked Chris to take a photo to see the wound for myself later. He took one, but when he returned 30 seconds later, he realized the camera timer had been set to 10 seconds. So, he took another one. He then shared the photo with other colleagues who were waiting in the hospital for updates and offering their support. They were all shocked after seeing the photo of the injury.

A CT scan was needed to determine whether my brain or skull had sustained any damage. The scan was performed in just a few rooms from ER 12 and took about 10 minutes. It was my first time seeing a CT scanner from the inside. After the scan, Chris returned, and we chatted for a while. I couldn’t help but notice the hospital’s PC setup—Windows 11, Imprivata, EPIC, and various scanners. Everything seemed fine, but we joked that it would be even faster and more secure if they were using Dizzion’s DaaS technology. Oh well, my brain was still working fine - all good!

We waited together and eventually asked the nurse and doctor about the next steps. The doctor and the nurse shared that if the CT scan didn’t show any brain or skull damage, I would be discharged and sent home. I also asked if, in that case, I could fly on Friday as planned. The answer was simple: “Yes.”

The CT scan didn’t show any damage to my skull or brain, which was a huge relief. With that cleared, the final step could begin. In the third and last round of stitches and staples, the medical team worked to close the wounds—60 stitches and staples for the head wound and another 10 for my ear.

During this time, my colleagues Yangzhi (Z), Nemanja, and ChrisT came by to see me. Z was especially emotional, felt deeply sorry and even guilty about what had happened. We both cried as we hugged, and I reassured him, saying, “No worries, everything will be fine. There’s no need for guilt at all, for anyone!”.

While still doing the stitches and staples, I remember how painful that was. The doctor asked, “Do you need more anesthesia injections?” I remember asking how many stitches were left. “About 10,” he replied. I thought about it and decided, “Let’s proceed with the stitches. The injections are also super painful.” I counted down with every stitch and staple. The doctor stopped at eight—great—but 10 minutes later, he added two more stitches to stop the bleeding on my forehead. F#ck.

The stitching was finally done, and my head and body cleaning began. They used a cold-water mini shower to spray and clean my head wound. The cold water went everywhere, soaking my shirt, pants, and everything else. By the end of it, all my clothing had to be thrown away. It had been cut off with scissors, was full of blood, and was too dirty to salvage. So, I said goodbye to it all—no collector items.

My ear also had quite a large cut, and a plastic surgeon was waiting to stitch it up. By then, the main wound on my head had been closed, the CT scan had positive results, and I was somewhat cleaned up.

Around 8:00 AM in the Netherlands, I called my wife Jacoline via FaceTime. I turned my camera off to avoid scaring her, but that plan didn’t work as intended. Hearing my story alone was enough to leave her completely shocked. My heart broke as I cried, telling her about the moment I thought I might die on the spot, not seeing her anymore. It was one of the hardest things to share.

We talked for about five minutes before the plastic surgeon arrived to fix my ear. Another round of 10 painful injections and stitches later, it was finally done. Sweet!

Meanwhile, my colleagues had gone to the hotel to collect all my belongings. Rob insisted that I stay at his place so he could keep an eye on me during my recovery. His wife had already prepared their guestroom for me, and Rob had even gone out to buy some clothes for me to use since my own was completely unusable. His kindness and support meant so much to me—it was truly heartwarming.

We waited an hour and a half for my dossier/file to be completed. After about an hour and 15 minutes, my colleagues checked on the delay to figure out what was causing it. The simple answer? “We cannot find him...” Sure, he’s Dutch and not a US citizen—that explains it. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong—maybe it was my less-than-perfect English , or maybe they thought I was local because someone else’s English was even worse. Perhaps the systems weren’t connected, or it was something else entirely. Either way, it didn’t really matter in the end.

Since I wanted to fly back home on Friday—the flight had been booked a while ago—and I was physically capable of traveling, we requested a ‘Fit to Fly’ document. This wasn’t just a note buried in the 10-page medical file as written initially but we asked for a separate, single-page document I could show to the airline crew if needed. With the help of ChatGPT, we found a template outlining the required details, and within five minutes, the paperwork was ready. We had everything: the fit-to-fly letter, a list of prescribed medications to pick up, and no lingering concerns—no credit card information shared, no kidney or passport left behind. All good to go. Together with Nemanja and Chris, we picked up the prescribed medications. Shortly after, Rob arrived to pick me up and take me to his place. Before we left the hospital, I asked Rob to pray and give thanks, and he did.

Moments of Care and Gratitude

During the 15-minute drive to his home, I suddenly felt overheated and thought I might vomit. About a minute later, Rob yelled, “RUBEN!” I snapped awake, drenched in sweat. I had passed out. Rob immediately said, “I’m heading back to the hospital,” but I insisted, “No, I’m fine. Let me lower the window to cool down and get some fresh air.” After a few moments, I felt better, and we continued driving to his house.

We arrived Thursday morning, and by ~5:30 AM, I finally crashed into bed. I managed to sleep for about 1.5 hours, but it wasn’t restful. My mind kept replaying the events like a movie, my head hurt, and I couldn’t find a comfortable position to lay it—left, right, or back—all sides were damaged and super sensitive. Thursday morning was mostly about resting and writing a WhatsApp message to family and friends to explain what had happened in more detail. This was an addition to the thoughtful message Jacoline had already written and shared while I was “asleep.” She did an amazing job keeping everyone informed.

All my senior leadership colleagues arrived at Rob’s place in the afternoon, and we briefly talked and hugged each other. Later in the evening, I had some chicken soup and bananas—eating was painful because the accident had also impacted my jaws. Rob and I talked for about an hour and a half, sharing our experiences, miracles, prayers, and the event's impact on us. It was truly a meaningful and uplifting conversation.

Rob made sure everything was ready for my trip. He organized special assistance services at both the San Antonio and Atlanta airports and a special ticket to help me navigate security and customs more easily. We also connected with Kevin, who lives in Atlanta. He kindly offered to be the backup plan in case the first flight didn’t go well or if, for any reason, I needed to stay in Atlanta. His thoughtfulness was incredibly reassuring.

I hadn’t taken any painkillers until Thursday night when I tried one Advil to see how I would respond and to help me get a good night’s sleep. Thankfully, it worked—I got 6.5 hours of rest, the most I’d had during the whole trip so far. I woke up feeling refreshed and had a great breakfast: scrambled eggs, a protein shake, vitamin water, and bananas. Afterward, I took my second full-body shower, packed my carry-on, and wrote a heartfelt letter to Rob to thank him for everything.

Rob and his wife left briefly to bring their other car to the garage and returned about 20 minutes later than planned, but we still had plenty of time to get to the airport, which was just a 15-minute drive from Rob’s place. Just move now

As we left the house, I noticed the trailer with the buggy and the ATV. I thought to myself, "Let’s take a couple of photos. These might come in handy later to explain what happened." And yes, they ended up being very useful!

Two Steps Toward Home

At San Antonio Airport, I didn’t need the wheelchair service. It was just a 3-minute walk to TSA, and I managed it alone – just slowly moving. The Facial Recognition scanner didn’t work at the checkpoint – duh. The TSA manager manually checked the passport and approved my entry with a smile, and we both chuckled at the minor hiccup. There were no security issues with my medicine, ice packs, or any of the extra items I don’t normally travel with—everything went smoothly. While waiting at the gate for my flight to Atlanta, Chris reappeared. What an amazing and thoughtful colleague! He told me his wife had praised God and prayed for my safe journey back to the Netherlands. We talked briefly before saying goodbye.

When boarding began, I could enter the plane first and find my seat—27H, a window seat. It wasn’t ideal because I needed to use the bathroom frequently. The doctor had advised me to drink plenty of water to aid my recovery, and I followed that advice—but it also meant lots of trips to the bathroom. I would have preferred an aisle seat, and luckily, I could swap with a guy who had the aisle seat. All set and good to go!

Although the doctor had reassured me that I was "Fit to Fly," and I had the official paperwork to prove it, I still felt a bit of tension as I boarded the plane. I wasn’t sure how my head and wound would react to the cabin pressure, noise, and overall environment.

That tension quickly faded when the second or third person to board—who ended up sitting in the middle seat next to me—asked, “What happened?” I replied, “Accident...” to which he responded, “Yes, I can tell.” I then added, “Can you handle some hospital photos?” He smiled and said, “Sure. I’m a paramedic and active duty in the US military—I’ve seen some stuff...” I showed him a few photos, and we ended up having a great conversation. We talked about Arizona, Phoenix, and Sedona, and he even typed some tips on things to do in Sedona. Long story short, this guy immediately felt like my physical guardian angel during the flight. The coincidence—or as I’d call it, a “God wink”—didn’t escape me. It felt like God was saying, “I took care of you during the accident. You’ve already seen miracles, and here’s someone to also look after you in case needed.” I couldn’t help but smile at the humor and the sense of reassurance in that moment.

The flight was about two hours, nothing particularly eventful, except for a 20-minute delay, which shortened my layover in Atlanta from 55 minutes to around 35. It was still doable, but given my slower pace, it wasn’t ideal. That’s where the wheelchair service came in handy. Rob and my friend Kevin had made a great point earlier, telling Rob, “Pro tip: Whatever happens, make sure Ruben gets into a wheelchair in Atlanta— planes don’t leave until all wheelchair passengers are accounted for.” He was right, the service worked perfectly, and I made it to my gate on time.

Fit to fly!

The Dutch KLM crew of flight KL624 passed by while I waited at the gate. We exchanged a quick “Hoi,” and I briefly chatted with the captain. When I told them about my accident—head between an iron bar and an ATV just 36 hours ago—they were wide-eyed and said, “Wait, are you sure you’re okay to fly?” I reassured the captain with a smile, “Yes, I’m fit to fly,” and he joined the rest of the crew.

I then approached the gate desk to ask a couple of questions. One was about the availability of a Business Class seat. I had checked the night before and earlier that morning, but none were available then. To my surprise, the friendly gate agent told me, “Yes, there is one seat left.” I joked, “What are the chances…. What are the chances the KLM crew would swap my Economy seat for that Business Class seat?”. The agent chuckled, shook his head, and said, “Well, four others on the waitlist are willing to buy it for $975, so I don’t think it’ll still be available when you board.” I smiled and replied, “Well, you’re either an excellent salesman or completely right.” I made life a little easier for myself and purchased the seat. A lie-flat bed, pillow, and blankets sounded like a good investment for a 9-hour flight. A few minutes later, the captain had asked the desk agent for proof that I was ‘fit to fly.’ I handed over the document provided by the hospital nurse, and everything was checked out. Shortly after, I boarded the plane and was shown to my Business Class seat by the KLM crew. Later, during the flight, we had several conversations. The crew even took some photos of me: one with my current face, one of my business headshots, and another showing the hospital photo of the wound. One of them remarked, “Wow, you definitely had a few guardian angels.”

It's interesting—I usually manage to ‘sleep’ 4-5 hours in an economy seat on flights like this. But this time, despite having the comfort of a nice bed, pillow, and blanket, I only slept for 1.5 hours. My mind was racing, and I found myself listening to music, praying, asking God questions, and just being open to hearing what He had to say. And, surprisingly, I wasn’t tired at all.

Pickup. Hugs. Home!

I arrived at Schiphol Airport on Saturday morning around 6:00 AM, it was cold and foggy, no cancelations or delays of my flight. Jacoline, Rosalie, and Mirthe were waiting for me. We hugged, hugged, and hugged—it was so incredible to be back home and able to hug my family again.

On the drive home, we talked about what had happened. Once we arrived, I went straight to bed for a much-needed 4–5-hour sleep. Later, we talked more about the accident, using the photos of the trailer and ATVs I had taken at the last minute at Rob’s place to explain better what had happened.

Throughout the day, friends and family arrived one by one. I spent time talking with them, explaining the events, and showing photos to tell the story.

There were a few special “aha” moments during these conversations, many of which I’ve already included in this story. However, there’s one that I’ve saved until now—well, almost to the end.

The Diary’s Message on January 15th

On Saturday afternoon, I was scrolling through the photos on my phone to show something to friends who were at our house, checking in on how I was doing. While scrolling, I stumbled across a photo I had taken of the daily diary at the Ranch on the morning of January 15th, the photo I had shared in the document already! Of all the travel and food books I could have opened, I had opened that one. Of all the 365 pages, I opened it to January 15th, the exact date, and the accident date in the evening. And now, reading what is on that page again, it is beautiful – crazy! I know these words were written weeks, months, or maybe years ago by someone who didn’t know about me and my experience on January 15th, 2025. Nevertheless, sometimes a page full of meaning can mean something to someone else – like me!

Between Iron Bars and Guardian Angels (SFW) (EN)

Processing the Unthinkable

During a leadership offsite in Texas USA, Ruben Spruijt experienced a life-threatening accident. Despite the chaos and potential for catastrophic outcomes, quick actions by his colleagues, skilled medical care, and a series of remarkable ‘coincidences’ ensured his survival. Ruben reflects on the accident, the role of faith, teamwork, and resilience in his recovery, and his deep gratitude.

His main goal in writing this article is to reflect on and process what he witnessed and better understand what happened on January 15th. Others have encouraged him to do the same, and he believes that putting his thoughts into words will help him in this process. He’s also writing this because the series of miracles and coincidences surrounding the event are worth sharing. Beyond his own sense of wonder, he believes someone might find value in his story

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Strategic Alignment, Bridges, Bonding, and VR

The week of January 15th, 2025, I was in San Antonio, Texas, USA, with eight other senior leadership colleagues from Dizzion. The primary goal of this trip was to discuss, plan, align, and optimize our organization and discuss business strategy for 2025 and beyond. An equally important part of the trip was getting to know each other better and building stronger connections, as many of us hadn’t met in person before. The pandemic, remote work, and the ~1.5 years since Dizzion and Frame merged into one organization (as a spinoff from Nutanix) made meeting face-to-face challenging. It was great to meet colleagues in person and spend time together.

Before Wednesday the 15th, we had already completed a full day of meetings where we tackled key topics such as customer growth, churn, team dynamics, market opportunities, and our unique position in the End User Computing industry. In preparation for the event, we had all completed the 5-Voices survey. We reviewed and discussed the results with a coach, gaining valuable insights into our team dynamics. That evening, we had a fantastic time with about 20 colleagues who live in San Antonio. We threw axes, enjoyed a beer, and played VR games. Mary, Z, Denise, R2, and I teamed up to fight zombies. As many of you know, I’m a huge Top Gun fan, so naturally, my call sign on the leaderboard was ‘Maverick.’ With 287 zombie headshots, I proudly lived up to the name.

A Day at Geronimo Creek Ranch

On January 15th, I woke up early, partly due to jet lag and partly because we had to leave the hotel early for the ~2-hour drive to the ranch located northwest of San Antonio. We gathered in the hotel lobby, and with two cars, we headed to Geronimo Creek Ranch. Five colleagues rode in the first car, while three colleagues and I stepped in Rob's big truck. Rob, the CEO of our company (Dizzion – Desktop as a Service), is a remarkable pioneer and a man of faith. He lives in San Antonio with his wife and kids. Rob and I had met a few times over the past 1.5 years, but this was my first time meeting Chris and Denise in person.

Together with my colleagues Chris, Denise, and Rob, we had a relaxed and insightful conversation about family, kids, the USA, the Netherlands, travel, books we’ve read, and the lessons we’ve taken from them. It was nice to chat about non-work topics as well. Halfway through the trip, we stopped at ‘BBQ - Eat Miler’ for breakfast. Who doesn’t love a brisket sandwich at 8:36 AM? I couldn’t find a healthier option, so I happily used that as an excuse to order that brisket sandwich . After breakfast, we did some grocery shopping at a massive Walmart. I have been to Walmart before, but never one this big—it was huge! While there, I picked up some outdoor boots since we were on a ranch, and things were sure to get dusty. I didn’t want to ruin my brand-new Nike CrossFit trainers or my relatively new ON running shoes, and as a Dutch guy, 40$ for waterproof leather outdoor boots is a great deal.

The day before we arrived at Geronimo Creek Ranch, Rob had already driven a trailer loaded with a buggy and an All-Terrain Vehicle (ATV) to the property. A close friend of Rob’s owns this family ranch, a massive property surrounded by a professional fence and gate. The property is often used for "guys’/gals’ weekends," including enjoying the silence, hanging out at the pool, BBQ, or firepit, shooting, and hunting zebras, antelopes, and other “wildlife.” Haha, welcome to Texas, I thought.

Business, BBQ, and Buggy Ride

We arrived at the house around 10:00 AM. After unloading the groceries and stocking the refrigerator, we took a brief walk around the property. Rob then gave us a safety briefing. The key takeaway: there are big spiders, scorpions, and venomous snakes around, so “don’t put your hand into holes,” and “always check your surroundings, especially near bushes”. Copy!

While some colleagues set up Starlink for internet and WiFi, I explored the house, looking for a power extension cord for my laptop. I eventually found a large cord in a room that also stored ammunition and housed two large gun safes. Based on the ammunition I saw, I could imagine the safes holding pistols, shotguns, and sniper rifles. After plugging in my laptop, I checked Starlink speed and ran a Frame session. As expected, our solution worked seamlessly, even in this remote location with higher latency. Although I already knew it would, it was still great to see and use it in action myself —especially since it was my first time using Starlink.

Before we began the first business block, we took a short break for refreshments. I walked around the living space, noticing several personal touches. Rob’s friend, it seemed, is a man of faith—there was a Bible verse posted on the wall, a few Bibles on the table, travel books, and cookbooks with recipes, judging by their covers. On top of two larger books, I spotted a smaller daily diary. Curious, I opened it, and the first page I saw was dated “January 15th.” It struck me as a funny coincidence, as that was the exact date displayed on my Garmin watch. I snapped a photo of the diary (time: 10:20 AM) to share with Jacoline later, planning to say, “Look… how funny is this? I randomly opened a daily diary to today’s date!” At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to the written text inside.

We started the first block with business topics and discussions. I’ll spare you the business details since I am under NDA (), but after that session, ChrisT, ChrisK, and I headed to a local BBQ restaurant to pick up our order. As many of you know, I’m a big fan of BBQ, so walking into this cozy, down-to-earth “mom and pop” spot, filled with regular folks and the smell of smoked meat, was a treat. We drove back to the ranch, about 20 minutes away, and enjoyed the food and conversations. Then, we dove into the second block of business discussions. After wrapping up that session, we took a short break. Some of the team explored the property, checking out the surroundings, while Yangzhi and I had some fun with RC cars and a DJI drone. The gear was amazing, and I couldn’t help but think how great it is to have a professional, friendly, and knowledgeable CEO colleague who’s also a bit of a “grown-up kid.” His love for gadgets—like RC cars, drones, the Apple Vision Pro, buggies, and All Terrain Vehicles (ATVs)— is great!.

We continued with the third block of discussions and conversations. Afterward, it was time to gear up with helmets and gloves as the ATV and buggy were ready to roll. Yang-Zhi and I took the buggy, following Rob and three other colleagues in the ATV as we navigated through bushes, hills, and dusty trails. Z started as the driver while I rode as the co-pilot. Halfway through, we switched seats, and I got behind the wheel. The ride wasn’t particularly fast—around 25–30 mph—but it was safe and a lot of fun. Everyone had a chance to either drive the buggy or ride as a passenger in the four-person ATV.

We began the fourth and final block of business discussions, and after a while, we decided to take a break and continued our conversations while walking to a nearby pond. The fresh air really helped clear our minds and opened the dialogue. By the time we returned, it was around 5:00 PM. Chris T. and Chris K. had already started building a bonfire. Judging by the smell of burning wood mixed with gasoline, I could tell they had taken the ‘quick start’ approach. I gathered some additional dry wood from the area since the larger logs weren’t completely dry. About 20 minutes later, we had a nice fire burning. We continued our (mostly) business discussions, but I also took a moment to enjoy the fire, the view, and the great company. It’s such a privilege to have no neighbors nearby—within a ~4-kilometer (~2-mile) radius; it’s just open land. That means you can make a fire, play loud music, shoot some guns, race an ATV, and not worry about anyone complaining – not too bad!

We drank sodas and water, snacked on chips and fruit, and finished the BBQ leftovers before tidying up the house. When we locked the door and headed back to our hotel, it was around 7:30 PM.

Checking Clearance

The first car, carrying five colleagues, left ahead of us. Rob’s big vehicle, with the connected trailer loaded with the buggy and ATV, followed second. Inside were Chris, Denise, Rob, and me. As Rob drove downhill to the gate, he opened the large metal doors and drove the trailer forward a bit before stopping halfway through. He turned to us and said, “Yesterday, when I dropped off the trailer with the buggy and ATV, it was a close call with the gate—it barely fit the bar above me. Chris and Ruben, can you check if the roof of the ATV clears the gate bar?” we stepped out to look, and that’s when the ‘freak accident’ began.

Chris and I walked toward the trailer to check the clearance. Chris climbed onto the trailer on the driver’s side, while I got on from the passenger’s side. From my position, I could clearly see that the roof of the ATV, including its six or seven headlights, would hit the large iron bar of the gate. To get the ATV through, its height would need to be lowered. Rob and/or Chris used a yellow lashing strap to press down the ATV's suspension, effectively lowering it. Once the suspension was lowered, Chris and I both double-checked the height. Using my phone’s flashlight, I confirmed that the ATV's roof and headlights would clear the first metal bar of the gate. Up until this point, I was standing outside the ATV. I thought, why not sit inside the ATV? Adding my weight would lower the suspension even more, providing additional clearance.

As Rob slowly drove the truck and trailer forward, a deafening “iron-on-iron” screech pierced through the dark, cold evening. Rob immediately stopped the car. In that split second, I leaned forward headfirst through the ATV's front ‘window’ to see what had happened. My head was above the roof as I looked left, trying to locate the impact source at the back of the ATV’s roof.

Headfirst, Struck by Iron

With my head above the ATV, still searching for the source of the noise on the roof of the ATV, Rob continued driving a few more meters (or feet). That’s when my head struck the second large iron bar. The bar, of course, was solid and stationary, and I wasn’t aware of his bar, but the trailer continued moving toward it. The right side of my head hit the bar first. Instinctively, I turned my head and ducked to avoid further impact, but in the process, my left ear struck the metal side of the ATV’s roof.

Later, as I spoke with friends and family and reviewed photos from the incident, the gravity of the situation became clear. If Rob had driven even a little faster, if my head had been just a few centimeters (or inches) higher above the ATV roof, or if my reflexes hadn’t been so quick, the outcome could have been devastating. I could have been killed instantly, my head crushed between the ATV roof and the iron bar. At the very least, I might have been physically paralyzed and/or mentally disabled.

These are the terrifying "what-ifs" that didn’t happen, and I feel really blessed for that. Writing this now, just a week after the accident, in good mental and good-ish physical health, feels like nothing short of a miracle.

Later, when I analysed the situation, it became clear what had gone wrong. Rob had warned us earlier that he wasn't sure the ATV would fit since the gate was on a downhill slope. The problem was simple: the back of the ATV’s roof was slightly higher than the front, which meant it had hit the metal bar. Duh!

I was laying on the ground in the passenger seat, feeling a sharp pain in my head. Instinctively, I reached up and felt something warm and slushy on my scalp. When I looked at my right hand, it was covered in blood—my arm, too. This is not good, I thought…

The thought crossed my mind for a brief moment: This is it. This is the end of my life on earth. Strangely, in that same instant, I found myself singing a song - in my mind - a song to God about His love for me and my love for Him. It was a short moment, but it was real.

Note: A few days later, when I was back home and when my brother-in-law came over to check on me and talk through the details of what had happened, I remembered it clearly. That memory hit me hard—it was emotional, but I’m sure it happened. The realization that I was so close to death, yet still singing a song to God, still stirs something deep inside me. It’s overwhelming to think about. I can’t recall exactly which song I sang then, but I know it’s one I’ve sung before and it’s about God’s love for me and my trust in Him. When the timing is right, I trust it will return to me.

While I was on the ground of the ATV, Chris turned to me and asked, “Ruben, are you okay?” He asked because he had lightly bumped his head against a pole. I responded calmly, “No, no, not good. Not good at all.”

By then, Rob had jumped out of the truck and quickly used his phone’s flashlight to assess the situation. He saw me sitting on the floor of the ATV, blood covering the right side of my head, with a visible 5 by 5 cm (2 by 2 inch) hole. Despite the severity of the situation, I hadn’t lost consciousness during the accident, which felt like a small relief amidst the chaos. I remember Rob walking back to the truck momentarily, muttering curses with intense energy, trying to process what had just happened.

My body was shaking uncontrollably from both trauma and the cold as I lay on the bare metal floor of the ATV. I pulled up the hood of my hoodie to cover my head. The hood also covered most of the bloody wound on my head, so my colleagues—Denise, Chris, and Rob—had no idea how severe the injury really was.

Later, in the hospital, I learned the cut was around 12 inches (25 cm) long and at widest point 2 inches (5cm). At the time, however, Chris had only seen the blood pooling beneath the hood and estimated the wound to be about 2 inches (5 cm). He shared that detail with the 911 operator when calling for help.

A side note: on Sunday, I showered my head for the first time since the accident and finally saw the wound in its entirety. It wasn’t a straight line, as I’d assumed —it was shaped like a fishhook. The cut ran from the top of my head down the side. The realization was shocking, I had been scalped. When I turned my head and reflexively ducked to avoid the metal bar, my ear struck the roof of the ATV, causing the injury. Wow, Shit!

Meanwhile, Denise stepped out of the truck and stood behind me. She grabbed an extra (ControlUp - LOL) hoodie from Rob, which he had in the back of his car, and tried to warm me. Wrapping the hoodie around me, she placed one arm on my forehead wound and the other over my heart, saying something like, “Let my mother’s hands try to warm you.”

I started searching for my phone but couldn’t find it. I asked Chris if he could look for it, and he found it on the roof of the ATV. He handed it to me, and at 2:57 AM Netherlands time, I sent my wife, Jacoline, two hearts via WhatsApp. I also quickly took a photo of myself but didn’t look at it and, thankfully, had the clarity not to send the photo to her. A single thought slipped through my mind: This might be the last thing she hears or sees from me!

Help is Underway - Stay Where You Are

Just a few minutes later, Chris called 911 while Rob worked on finding the ranch's address, which was truly in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how long that took, but Denise stayed behind me during that time, providing comfort.

At one point, I called out Rob’s name three times. He didn’t hear me the first two times, but on the third, he did. He was standing near the front of the ATV, and I asked him to pray for me and the situation. Rob and I had previously shared conversations about business and personal topics during our 1:1s, so I already knew we were spiritually aligned. At that moment, his prayer felt deeply reassuring. I don’t know exactly what he prayed, but I believe the prayer to God was a cry to God for help, and it did help me and others at that time and maybe later as well.

Note: Why do these miracles—or what some might call coincidences, happen to me and not to others? Why am I still here, in good mental and physical health? These are good questions; honestly, I don’t have the answers. I know that miracles can and do happen—I’ve witnessed a few in my life—and surviving this freak accident is undoubtedly one of them. There’s more to this story, though. The other coincidences, miracles, or what I like to call “God winks,” will come later. You’ll read about them for sure.

After the prayer, Rob became calmer. A few days later, he shared with me that he felt he was given two tasks after prayer: the first task was to get me out of the ATV and get me into the warmth of the truck since hypothermia was his concern. It was a cold evening—just 4°C (39°F)—and the bare metal floor of the ATV made me start shivering almost instantly. Getting me back into the truck might sound strange because one of the key rules in dealing with accidents is not to move the patient unless necessary. Moving someone without knowing the extent of their head, neck, or back injuries could potentially cause even more harm. However, Rob asked me if I could move. I carefully rolled my head, and everything felt normal-ish. I climbed out of the ATV and with Rob and Chris supporting me, we slowly made our way to the truck. I remember the warm blood rolling down my back as I walked to the truck.

The second thing Rob felt after the prayer was a clear message: “Don’t fix it yourself. stay where you are.” This went against his instinct, as his usual approach is to jump into action with a “see it, fix it” mindset—always eager to help and solve problems quickly. The ambulance was estimated to take 30 minutes to arrive at the entrance gate. Rob’s initial thought was to drive toward the ambulance to save time. However, he later told me that he certainly would have missed the ambulance if he had acted on that impulse. There were three possible routes to the gate: one main “road,” another commonly used “road,” and a third, a very small, rarely used road. And guess where the ambulance came from? The third, least likely route. By staying at the gate and not driving toward the ambulance, Rob ensured they didn’t miss each other and avoided adding more time to the already critical situation.

I managed to climb into the back seat and lay down, still shivering but slowly starting to warm up. Rob had called the ranch property manager—a nephew of the owner who lived nearby—and he came over to help. He brought some blankets, which, combined with the back seat heating and those extra layers, helped me gradually regain warmth.

Later, Chris told me that the property manager had seen a cat cross his path and, on his way to bring the blankets to the accident site, he also ended up hitting a deer with his car, and that night was just after a full moon. Imagine all this happening under the glow of a full moon.

Rob was sitting in the front seat, holding my hand. Every now and then, he gently squeezed it, asking, “Are you still there?” Each time, I reassured him, “Yes—yes, I’m still here.” Three calls were made to 911; one was to ensure they had the correct address. The final call was to confirm how long it would take for the ambulance to arrive. I vaguely remember hearing, “Three minutes, and they will be here.”

The Ride to Care

Around ~08:15PM I was loaded into the ambulance, and Chris joined me – sitting in the front of the truck, carrying my backpack, phone, and wallet. We slowly made our way off the bumpy roads, heading toward San Antonio University Health—a 75-minute drive. I was able to communicate with the paramedics, though it was slow because my head hurt while trying to process and respond in my non-native English language.

I remember a young paramedic who seemed fresh out of school. He knew what he was doing but was also obviously new to the job. It wasn’t quite “learning on the job,” but it felt close. An older, more experienced (and distinguished-looking) paramedic was also assisting him. At one point, the young paramedic began setting up a drip—while the ambulance was moving. I was alert enough to ask him twice if it was really a good idea to do that while driving over bumpy roads. He confidently assured me it was fine. I reluctantly thought, all right, let’s go. I’m not a fan of needles, let alone while lying on a stretcher in a moving vehicle bouncing along uneven roads. But at that moment, I just let it go —after all, things could always be worse – and I was right.

They asked all kinds of questions needed for their dossier—my name, insurance information, date of birth, and current date. I could answer most of them, though I had to refer to some details from my wallet to help them create a file on me.

It’s interesting how the sense of time disappears in moments like this—the ride didn’t feel if the 75 minutes it actually was. About halfway through, the older paramedic told the driver to speed up wherever possible. At the same time, they ran out of the normal "big" bandages to manage the bleeding and had to use “whatever was available.” Despite their efforts, the bleeding still hadn’t stopped by the time we arrived at the hospital. Another strange detail I recall is catching a faint smell of cannabis in the ambulance at one point. It struck me as odd, and I’m almost certain it was just my brain playing tricks on me.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was asked similar questions—my name, date of birth, and insurance details—to create my Electronic Client Record (ECR) dossier. A few minutes later, I was brought into Trauma Room/Emergency Room 12.

My Trauma Room Experience

Since this was a university hospital, I saw several people coming in and out. While I’m no specialist, I think one of them was a “professor” who seemed to be supervising; he mainly walked around asking questions. A main doctor was working with me, along with two medical students observing his actions. I also saw four different nurses, including a main nurse, who connected me to the medical devices.

I learned that the cut went through three layers of tissue and reached the skull. At that point, it wasn’t clear whether I had any brain or skull damage, as the CT scan hadn’t been performed yet. Thankfully, I had never lost consciousness, which was at least one positive sign. Speaking of positives—though somewhat ironic—the injection of anesthesia directly into the wound was excruciating.

I’ve never experienced pain like that before. Even the stitching of the wound was often very painful—likely because the anesthesia didn’t fully cover all the areas or the nerves were cut – I don’t know, it was f#ck sh#t - big time.

A couple of interesting observations: one of the medical students fainted when she saw the wound when I entered the emergency room and had to sit down to avoid losing consciousness completely. Meanwhile, other ‘students’ periodically peeked into the room—likely curious about ‘the Dutch guy’ in the trauma room (or so I assumed) but also to see the severity of the injury. The main nurse commented at the end of the treatment that she hadn’t seen a head wound like this in the 10 years she had been working at the hospital. Hmmm… great ... I thought to myself.

The medical team started stitching the first layer of tissue and had just begun working on the second layer when Chris came into the room to check on me. He was completely shocked—he hadn’t expected the wound to be so severe and so large. Earlier, all he had seen was a 2-inch (5 cm) cut and my blood-covered head, partially hidden by the hood of my hoodie, which made the injury seem much smaller. The reality, however, was far more serious. He shared that his wife was praying for me and for a speedy recovery.

I asked Chris to take a photo to see the wound for myself later. He took one, but when he returned 30 seconds later, he realized the camera timer had been set to 10 seconds. So, he took another one. He then shared the photo with other colleagues who were waiting in the hospital for updates and offering their support. They were all shocked after seeing the photo of the injury.

A CT scan was needed to determine whether my brain or skull had sustained any damage. The scan was performed in just a few rooms from ER 12 and took about 10 minutes. It was my first time seeing a CT scanner from the inside. After the scan, Chris returned, and we chatted for a while. I couldn’t help but notice the hospital’s PC setup—Windows 11, Imprivata, EPIC, and various scanners. Everything seemed fine, but we joked that it would be even faster and more secure if they were using Dizzion’s DaaS technology. Oh well, my brain was still working fine - all good!

We waited together and eventually asked the nurse and doctor about the next steps. The doctor and the nurse shared that if the CT scan didn’t show any brain or skull damage, I would be discharged and sent home. I also asked if, in that case, I could fly on Friday as planned. The answer was simple: “Yes.”

The CT scan didn’t show any damage to my skull or brain, which was a huge relief. With that cleared, the final step could begin. In the third and last round of stitches and staples, the medical team worked to close the wounds—60 stitches and staples for the head wound and another 10 for my ear.

During this time, my colleagues Yangzhi (Z), Nemanja, and ChrisT came by to see me. Z was especially emotional, felt deeply sorry and even guilty about what had happened. We both cried as we hugged, and I reassured him, saying, “No worries, everything will be fine. There’s no need for guilt at all, for anyone!”.

While still doing the stitches and staples, I remember how painful that was. The doctor asked, “Do you need more anesthesia injections?” I remember asking how many stitches were left. “About 10,” he replied. I thought about it and decided, “Let’s proceed with the stitches. The injections are also super painful.” I counted down with every stitch and staple. The doctor stopped at eight—great—but 10 minutes later, he added two more stitches to stop the bleeding on my forehead. F#ck.

The stitching was finally done, and my head and body cleaning began. They used a cold-water mini shower to spray and clean my head wound. The cold water went everywhere, soaking my shirt, pants, and everything else. By the end of it, all my clothing had to be thrown away. It had been cut off with scissors, was full of blood, and was too dirty to salvage. So, I said goodbye to it all—no collector items.

My ear also had quite a large cut, and a plastic surgeon was waiting to stitch it up. By then, the main wound on my head had been closed, the CT scan had positive results, and I was somewhat cleaned up.

Around 8:00 AM in the Netherlands, I called my wife Jacoline via FaceTime. I turned my camera off to avoid scaring her, but that plan didn’t work as intended. Hearing my story alone was enough to leave her completely shocked. My heart broke as I cried, telling her about the moment I thought I might die on the spot, not seeing her anymore. It was one of the hardest things to share.

We talked for about five minutes before the plastic surgeon arrived to fix my ear. Another round of 10 painful injections and stitches later, it was finally done. Sweet!

Meanwhile, my colleagues had gone to the hotel to collect all my belongings. Rob insisted that I stay at his place so he could keep an eye on me during my recovery. His wife had already prepared their guestroom for me, and Rob had even gone out to buy some clothes for me to use since my own was completely unusable. His kindness and support meant so much to me—it was truly heartwarming.

We waited an hour and a half for my dossier/file to be completed. After about an hour and 15 minutes, my colleagues checked on the delay to figure out what was causing it. The simple answer? “We cannot find him...” Sure, he’s Dutch and not a US citizen—that explains it. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong—maybe it was my less-than-perfect English , or maybe they thought I was local because someone else’s English was even worse. Perhaps the systems weren’t connected, or it was something else entirely. Either way, it didn’t really matter in the end.

Since I wanted to fly back home on Friday—the flight had been booked a while ago—and I was physically capable of traveling, we requested a ‘Fit to Fly’ document. This wasn’t just a note buried in the 10-page medical file as written initially but we asked for a separate, single-page document I could show to the airline crew if needed. With the help of ChatGPT, we found a template outlining the required details, and within five minutes, the paperwork was ready. We had everything: the fit-to-fly letter, a list of prescribed medications to pick up, and no lingering concerns—no credit card information shared, no kidney or passport left behind. All good to go. Together with Nemanja and Chris, we picked up the prescribed medications. Shortly after, Rob arrived to pick me up and take me to his place. Before we left the hospital, I asked Rob to pray and give thanks, and he did.

Moments of Care and Gratitude

During the 15-minute drive to his home, I suddenly felt overheated and thought I might vomit. About a minute later, Rob yelled, “RUBEN!” I snapped awake, drenched in sweat. I had passed out. Rob immediately said, “I’m heading back to the hospital,” but I insisted, “No, I’m fine. Let me lower the window to cool down and get some fresh air.” After a few moments, I felt better, and we continued driving to his house.

We arrived Thursday morning, and by ~5:30 AM, I finally crashed into bed. I managed to sleep for about 1.5 hours, but it wasn’t restful. My mind kept replaying the events like a movie, my head hurt, and I couldn’t find a comfortable position to lay it—left, right, or back—all sides were damaged and super sensitive. Thursday morning was mostly about resting and writing a WhatsApp message to family and friends to explain what had happened in more detail. This was an addition to the thoughtful message Jacoline had already written and shared while I was “asleep.” She did an amazing job keeping everyone informed.

All my senior leadership colleagues arrived at Rob’s place in the afternoon, and we briefly talked and hugged each other. Later in the evening, I had some chicken soup and bananas—eating was painful because the accident had also impacted my jaws. Rob and I talked for about an hour and a half, sharing our experiences, miracles, prayers, and the event's impact on us. It was truly a meaningful and uplifting conversation.

Rob made sure everything was ready for my trip. He organized special assistance services at both the San Antonio and Atlanta airports and a special ticket to help me navigate security and customs more easily. We also connected with Kevin, who lives in Atlanta. He kindly offered to be the backup plan in case the first flight didn’t go well or if, for any reason, I needed to stay in Atlanta. His thoughtfulness was incredibly reassuring.

I hadn’t taken any painkillers until Thursday night when I tried one Advil to see how I would respond and to help me get a good night’s sleep. Thankfully, it worked—I got 6.5 hours of rest, the most I’d had during the whole trip so far. I woke up feeling refreshed and had a great breakfast: scrambled eggs, a protein shake, vitamin water, and bananas. Afterward, I took my second full-body shower, packed my carry-on, and wrote a heartfelt letter to Rob to thank him for everything.

Rob and his wife left briefly to bring their other car to the garage and returned about 20 minutes later than planned, but we still had plenty of time to get to the airport, which was just a 15-minute drive from Rob’s place. Just move now

As we left the house, I noticed the trailer with the buggy and the ATV. I thought to myself, "Let’s take a couple of photos. These might come in handy later to explain what happened." And yes, they ended up being very useful!

Two Steps Toward Home

At San Antonio Airport, I didn’t need the wheelchair service. It was just a 3-minute walk to TSA, and I managed it alone – just slowly moving. The Facial Recognition scanner didn’t work at the checkpoint – duh. The TSA manager manually checked the passport and approved my entry with a smile, and we both chuckled at the minor hiccup. There were no security issues with my medicine, ice packs, or any of the extra items I don’t normally travel with—everything went smoothly. While waiting at the gate for my flight to Atlanta, Chris reappeared. What an amazing and thoughtful colleague! He told me his wife had praised God and prayed for my safe journey back to the Netherlands. We talked briefly before saying goodbye.

When boarding began, I could enter the plane first and find my seat—27H, a window seat. It wasn’t ideal because I needed to use the bathroom frequently. The doctor had advised me to drink plenty of water to aid my recovery, and I followed that advice—but it also meant lots of trips to the bathroom. I would have preferred an aisle seat, and luckily, I could swap with a guy who had the aisle seat. All set and good to go!

Although the doctor had reassured me that I was "Fit to Fly," and I had the official paperwork to prove it, I still felt a bit of tension as I boarded the plane. I wasn’t sure how my head and wound would react to the cabin pressure, noise, and overall environment.

That tension quickly faded when the second or third person to board—who ended up sitting in the middle seat next to me—asked, “What happened?” I replied, “Accident...” to which he responded, “Yes, I can tell.” I then added, “Can you handle some hospital photos?” He smiled and said, “Sure. I’m a paramedic and active duty in the US military—I’ve seen some stuff...” I showed him a few photos, and we ended up having a great conversation. We talked about Arizona, Phoenix, and Sedona, and he even typed some tips on things to do in Sedona. Long story short, this guy immediately felt like my physical guardian angel during the flight. The coincidence—or as I’d call it, a “God wink”—didn’t escape me. It felt like God was saying, “I took care of you during the accident. You’ve already seen miracles, and here’s someone to also look after you in case needed.” I couldn’t help but smile at the humor and the sense of reassurance in that moment.

The flight was about two hours, nothing particularly eventful, except for a 20-minute delay, which shortened my layover in Atlanta from 55 minutes to around 35. It was still doable, but given my slower pace, it wasn’t ideal. That’s where the wheelchair service came in handy. Rob and my friend Kevin had made a great point earlier, telling Rob, “Pro tip: Whatever happens, make sure Ruben gets into a wheelchair in Atlanta— planes don’t leave until all wheelchair passengers are accounted for.” He was right, the service worked perfectly, and I made it to my gate on time.

Fit to fly!

The Dutch KLM crew of flight KL624 passed by while I waited at the gate. We exchanged a quick “Hoi,” and I briefly chatted with the captain. When I told them about my accident—head between an iron bar and an ATV just 36 hours ago—they were wide-eyed and said, “Wait, are you sure you’re okay to fly?” I reassured the captain with a smile, “Yes, I’m fit to fly,” and he joined the rest of the crew.

I then approached the gate desk to ask a couple of questions. One was about the availability of a Business Class seat. I had checked the night before and earlier that morning, but none were available then. To my surprise, the friendly gate agent told me, “Yes, there is one seat left.” I joked, “What are the chances…. What are the chances the KLM crew would swap my Economy seat for that Business Class seat?”. The agent chuckled, shook his head, and said, “Well, four others on the waitlist are willing to buy it for $975, so I don’t think it’ll still be available when you board.” I smiled and replied, “Well, you’re either an excellent salesman or completely right.” I made life a little easier for myself and purchased the seat. A lie-flat bed, pillow, and blankets sounded like a good investment for a 9-hour flight. A few minutes later, the captain had asked the desk agent for proof that I was ‘fit to fly.’ I handed over the document provided by the hospital nurse, and everything was checked out. Shortly after, I boarded the plane and was shown to my Business Class seat by the KLM crew. Later, during the flight, we had several conversations. The crew even took some photos of me: one with my current face, one of my business headshots, and another showing the hospital photo of the wound. One of them remarked, “Wow, you definitely had a few guardian angels.”

It's interesting—I usually manage to ‘sleep’ 4-5 hours in an economy seat on flights like this. But this time, despite having the comfort of a nice bed, pillow, and blanket, I only slept for 1.5 hours. My mind was racing, and I found myself listening to music, praying, asking God questions, and just being open to hearing what He had to say. And, surprisingly, I wasn’t tired at all.

Pickup. Hugs. Home!

I arrived at Schiphol Airport on Saturday morning around 6:00 AM, it was cold and foggy, no cancelations or delays of my flight. Jacoline, Rosalie, and Mirthe were waiting for me. We hugged, hugged, and hugged—it was so incredible to be back home and able to hug my family again.

On the drive home, we talked about what had happened. Once we arrived, I went straight to bed for a much-needed 4–5-hour sleep. Later, we talked more about the accident, using the photos of the trailer and ATVs I had taken at the last minute at Rob’s place to explain better what had happened.

Throughout the day, friends and family arrived one by one. I spent time talking with them, explaining the events, and showing photos to tell the story.

There were a few special “aha” moments during these conversations, many of which I’ve already included in this story. However, there’s one that I’ve saved until now—well, almost to the end.

The Diary’s Message on January 15th

On Saturday afternoon, I was scrolling through the photos on my phone to show something to friends who were at our house, checking in on how I was doing. While scrolling, I stumbled across a photo I had taken of the daily diary at the Ranch on the morning of January 15th, the photo I had shared in the document already! Of all the travel and food books I could have opened, I had opened that one. Of all the 365 pages, I opened it to January 15th, the exact date, and the accident date in the evening. And now, reading what is on that page again, it is beautiful – crazy! I know these words were written weeks, months, or maybe years ago by someone who didn’t know about me and my experience on January 15th, 2025. Nevertheless, sometimes a page full of meaning can mean something to someone else – like me!

Nederlandse versie – Dutch version

Tussen ijzeren balken en beschermengelen (Dutch)

Het onvoorstelbare verwerken

Tijdens een leadership offsite – een leiderschapsretraite – in Texas, USA, beleefde Ruben Spruijt een levensbedreigend ongeval. Door een reeks wonderbaarlijke toevalligheden, de snelle acties van zijn collega’s en kundige medische zorg heeft Ruben dit overleefd. Hij beschrijft het ongeval, de rol van zijn geloof, het teamwork met collega’s en de veerkracht in zijn herstel, en bovenal zijn diepe dankbaarheid dat hij dit alles kan opschrijven.

Zijn belangrijkste doel bij het schrijven van dit artikel is om te reflecteren en te verwerken wat er op 15 januari is gebeurd. Anderen hebben hem aangemoedigd hetzelfde te doen, en hij gelooft dat het uitschrijven van zijn gedachten hem in dit proces zal helpen. Hij schrijft dit ook omdat de reeks wonderen en toevalligheden rondom het incident het waard zijn om te delen. Naast zijn eigen gevoel van verwondering gelooft hij dat iemand anders waarde kan vinden in zijn verhaal.

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Bruggen bouwen: strategische afstemming, verbinding en VR

In de week van 15 januari 2025 was ik in San Antonio, Texas, VS, met acht andere senior-leiderschapcollega’s van Dizzion. Het primaire doel van deze trip was om onze organisatie te bespreken, plannen af te stemmen en te optimaliseren, en om de bedrijfsstrategie voor 2025 en daarna te bepalen. Een even belangrijk deel van de reis was om elkaar beter te leren kennen en sterkere verbindingen op te bouwen, aangezien velen van ons elkaar nog nooit in persoon hadden ontmoet. De pandemie, werken op afstand en de ~1,5 jaar sinds Dizzion en Frame fuseerden tot één organisatie (als een spin-off van Nutanix) maakten persoonlijke ontmoetingen een uitdaging. Het was geweldig om mijn collega’s persoonlijk te ontmoeten en tijd samen door te brengen.

Op woensdag de 15e hadden we al een volledige dag aan vergaderingen achter de rug, waarin we belangrijke onderwerpen bespraken zoals klantengroei, teamdynamiek, marktkansen en onze unieke positie in de End User Computing-industrie. Ter voorbereiding op het evenement hadden we allemaal de 5-Voices-enquête ingevuld. We bespraken de resultaten met een coach en kregen waardevolle inzichten in onze teamdynamiek. Die avond hadden we een geweldige tijd met ongeveer 20 collega’s die in San Antonio wonen. We gooiden bijlen, genoten van een biertje en speelden VR-spellen. Mary, Yangzhi (Z), Denise, R2 en ik vormden een team om zombies te bestrijden. Zoals velen weten, ben ik een grote Top Gun-fan, dus mijn roepnaam op het scorebord was natuurlijk 'Maverick'. Met een eerste positie en 287 zombie-headshots deed ik mijn naam eer aan.

Een dag op Geronimo Creek Ranch

Op 15 januari werd ik vroeg wakker, deels door een jetlag en deels omdat we vroeg moesten vertrekken voor de ~2 uur durende rit naar de ranch ten noordwesten van San Antonio. We verzamelden ons in de hotellobby en reden in twee auto’s naar Geronimo Creek Ranch. Vijf collega’s zaten in de eerste auto, terwijl drie collega’s en ik in Robs grote truck stapten. Rob, de CEO van ons bedrijf (Dizzion – Desktop as a Service), is een opmerkelijke pionier en een man van geloof. Hij woont in San Antonio met zijn vrouw en kinderen. Rob en ik hadden elkaar al een paar keer ontmoet in de afgelopen 1,5 jaar, maar dit was de eerste keer dat ik Chris en Denise persoonlijk ontmoette.

Samen met mijn collega’s Chris, Denise en Rob hadden we een ontspannen en inzichtelijk gesprek over familie, kinderen, de VS, Nederland, reizen, boeken die we hebben gelezen en de lessen die we eruit hebben gehaald. Het was ook leuk om over niet-werkgerelateerde onderwerpen te praten. Halverwege de rit stopten we bij ‘BBQ - Eat Miler’ voor ontbijt. Wie houdt er nou niet van een brisket-sandwich om 8:36 uur ’s ochtends? Ik kon geen gezondere optie vinden, dus gebruikte ik dat als excuus om die brisket-sandwich te bestellen 😊.

Na het ontbijt deden we boodschappen bij een enorme Walmart. Ik was al eerder in een Walmart geweest, maar nog nooit in zo’n grote – het was gigantisch! Terwijl we daar waren, kocht ik een paar outdoorschoenen, omdat we op een ranch waren en het zeker stoffig zou worden. Ik wilde mijn gloednieuwe Nike CrossFit-schoenen of mijn relatief nieuwe ON-hardloopschoenen niet verpesten, en als Nederlander is 40 dollar voor waterdichte leren outdoorlaarzen een koopje.

De dag voordat we op Geronimo Creek Ranch aankwamen, had Rob al een aanhanger met een buggy en een All-Terrain Vehicle (ATV) naar het terrein gereden. Een goede vriend van Rob is de eigenaar van deze familieranch, een enorm terrein omgeven door een professioneel hek en een poort. Het terrein wordt vaak gebruikt voor "weekenden voor mannen/vrouwen," inclusief genieten van de stilte, tijd doorbrengen bij het zwembad, barbecueën of bij de vuurplaats zitten, schieten en jagen op zebra’s, antilopen en ander "wild". Haha, welkom in Texas, dacht ik.

Zakelijke gesprekken, BBQ en buggyrit

We kwamen rond 10:00 uur 's ochtends aan bij het huis. Na het uitladen van de boodschappen en het vullen van de koelkast maakten we een korte wandeling over het terrein. Rob gaf ons daarna een veiligheidsbriefing. De belangrijkste boodschap: er zijn grote spinnen, schorpioenen en giftige slangen, dus "steek je hand niet in gaten" en "controleer altijd je omgeving, vooral bij struiken." Begrepen!

Terwijl sommige collega’s Starlink installeerden voor internet en wifi, verkende ik het huis op zoek naar een verlengsnoer voor mijn laptop. Uiteindelijk vond ik een groot snoer in een kamer waar ook munitie lag opgeslagen en twee grote wapenkluizen stonden. Op basis van de munitie die ik zag, kon ik me voorstellen dat de kluizen pistolen, jachtgeweren en scherpschuttersgeweren bevatten. Nadat ik mijn laptop had aangesloten, controleerde ik de snelheid van Starlink en draaide een sessie op Frame. Zoals verwacht werkte onze oplossing goed, zelfs op deze afgelegen locatie met hogere latentie. Hoewel ik al wist dat het zou werken, was het geweldig om het zelf in actie te zien—vooral omdat het mijn eerste keer was dat ik Starlink gebruikte.

Voordat we aan het eerste zakelijke blok begonnen, namen we een korte pauze voor koffie, thee, etc. Ik liep door de leefruimte en merkte verschillende persoonlijke accenten op. Robs vriend leek een gelovige man te zijn—er hing een poster met een bijbeltekst aan de muur, er lagen een paar bijbels op tafel, evenals reisboeken en kookboeken met recepten, afgaand op de kaften. Bovenop twee grotere boeken zag ik een kleiner bijbels dagboek liggen. Nieuwsgierig opende ik het, en de eerste pagina die ik zag had als datum "15 januari." Het leek me een grappig toeval, want dat was precies de datum die op mijn Garmin-horloge werd weergegeven.

Ik maakte een foto van het dagboek (tijd: 10:20 uur) om later aan Jacoline te laten zien, met het idee te zeggen: "Kijk... hoe grappig is dit? Ik opende zomaar een bijbels dagboek en het was precies de datum van vandaag!" Op dat moment besteedde ik niet veel aandacht aan de tekst die erin stond.

We begonnen het eerste blok met zakelijke onderwerpen en discussies. Ik zal de zakelijke details besparen omdat ik onder een geheimhoudingsverklaring val (😊), maar na die sessie gingen Chris T, Chris K en ik naar een lokaal BBQ-restaurant om onze bestelling op te halen. Zoals velen van jullie weten, ben ik een grote fan van BBQ, dus het binnenlopen van deze knusse, huiselijke familiezaak, gevuld met gewone mensen en de geur van gerookt vlees, was een traktatie. We reden terug naar de ranch, ongeveer 20 minuten verderop, en genoten van het eten en de gesprekken. Daarna doken we in het tweede blok met zakelijke discussies.

Na die sessie namen we een korte pauze. Sommige teamleden verkenden het terrein en bekeken de omgeving, terwijl YangZhi en ik wat plezier hadden met radiografisch bestuurbare auto’s en een DJI-drone. De apparatuur was geweldig, en ik kon niet anders dan denken hoe fijn het is om een professionele, vriendelijke en deskundige CEO-collega te hebben die ook een beetje een groot kind is. Zijn liefde voor gadgets—zoals RC-auto’s, drones, de Apple Vision Pro, buggy’s en all-terrain-voertuigen (ATV’s)—is fantastisch.

We gingen verder met het derde blok van discussies en gesprekken. Daarna was het tijd om helmen en handschoenen aan te trekken, want de ATV en buggy stonden klaar om te rijden. Yangzhi (Z) en ik namen de buggy, terwijl we Rob en drie andere collega’s in de ATV volgden terwijl we door struiken, heuvels en stoffige paden reden. Z begon als chauffeur terwijl ik copiloot was. Halverwege wisselden we van plaats en nam ik het stuur over. De rit was niet bijzonder snel—ongeveer 40-50 km/u—maar het was veilig en ontzettend leuk. Iedereen kreeg de kans om ofwel de buggy te besturen of als passagier in de vierpersoons-ATV mee te rijden.

We begonnen het vierde en laatste blok met zakelijke discussies, en na een tijdje besloten we een pauze te nemen en onze gesprekken voort te zetten terwijl we naar een nabijgelegen vijver liepen. De frisse lucht hielp echt om onze gedachten te verhelderen en de dialoog verder te verdiepen.

Toen we terugkwamen, was het rond 17:00 uur. Chris T en Chris K waren al begonnen met het maken van een kampvuur. Afgaand op de geur van brandend hout gemengd met benzine, kon ik wel raden dat ze de 'snelle start'-methode hadden gebruikt. Ik verzamelde wat extra droog hout uit de omgeving, omdat de grotere blokken niet helemaal droog waren. Ongeveer 20 minuten later hadden we een mooi vuur branden.

We vervolgden onze (voornamelijk) zakelijke gesprekken, maar ik nam ook een moment om te genieten van het vuur, het uitzicht en het geweldige gezelschap. Het is zo’n voorrecht om geen buren in de buurt te hebben—binnen een straal van ~4 kilometer (~2 mijl) is er alleen open land. Dat betekent dat je een vuur kunt maken, harde muziek kunt spelen, kunt schieten, met een ATV kunt racen, en je geen zorgen hoeft te maken over klachten—niet slecht! 😉

We dronken frisdrank en water, aten chips en fruit en maakten de BBQ-restjes op (in de VS zijn ‘restjes’ nog steeds een volle maaltijd) voordat we het huis opruimden. Toen we de deur op slot deden en teruggingen naar ons hotel, was het rond 19:30 uur.

De doorgang controleren: een cruciaal moment

De eerste auto, met vijf collega’s, vertrok voor ons uit. Robs grote voertuig, met de aanhanger eraan vastgekoppeld waarop de buggy en ATV stonden, reed als tweede. Binnenin zaten Chris, Denise, Rob en ik. Terwijl Rob de heuvel afreed naar de poort, opende hij de grote metalen deuren en reed de aanhanger een stukje naar voren voordat hij halverwege stopte. Hij draaide zich naar ons om en zei: “Gisteren, toen ik de aanhanger met de buggy en ATV bracht, was het een krappe doorgang bij de poort—de ATV met de stalen balk erboven kwam er maar net onderdoor. Chris en Ruben, kunnen jullie controleren of de ATV onder de balk door past?”.

We stapten uit om te kijken, en dat is wanneer het ‘bizarre ongeluk’ begon.

Chris en ik liepen naar de aanhanger met de ATV om de doorgang te controleren. Chris klom op de aanhanger aan de bestuurderszijde, terwijl ik aan de passagierszijde klom. Vanaf mijn positie kon ik duidelijk zien dat het dak van de ATV, inclusief de zes of zeven koplampen, absoluut de grote ijzeren balk van de poort zou raken. Om de ATV door de poort te krijgen, moest de hoogte worden verlaagd. Rob en/of Chris gebruikten een gele spanband om de vering van de ATV naar beneden te drukken, waardoor hij effectief lager werd. Toen de vering eenmaal was verlaagd, controleerden Chris en ik beiden de hoogte opnieuw. Met behulp van mijn telefoonlampje bevestigde ik dat het dak en de koplampen van de ATV onder de eerste metalen balk van de poort door zouden passen.

Tot op dat moment stond ik buiten de ATV. Ik dacht: Waarom ga ik niet in de ATV zitten? Mijn gewicht zou de vering nog verder naar beneden drukken en nog iets extra ruimte creëren.

Terwijl Rob de vrachtwagen en aanhanger langzaam naar voren reed, klonk er plotseling een oorverdovend “ijzer-op-ijzer” schrapend geluid door de koude, donkere avond. Rob stopte onmiddellijk de auto. In een fractie van een seconde boog ik naar voren, met mijn hoofd door het ‘raam’ aan de voorkant van de ATV, om te zien wat er was gebeurd. Mijn hoofd was boven het dak terwijl ik naar links keek om de bron van het geluid en de impact aan de achterkant van het ATV-dak te lokaliseren.

Hoofd Eerst, tegen ijzer geslagen

Met mijn hoofd boven de ATV, nog steeds zoekend naar de bron van het geluid op het dak van de ATV, reed Rob nog een paar meter (of voet) verder. Op dat moment raakte mijn hoofd de tweede grote ijzeren balk.

De balk, natuurlijk stevig en vast, was voor mij niet zichtbaar, maar de auto en aanhanger bleven in beweging richting deze balk. De rechterkant van mijn hoofd raakte als eerste de balk. Instinctief draaide ik mijn hoofd en dook naar beneden om verdere impact te vermijden, maar in dat proces raakte mijn linkeroor de metalen rand van het ATV-dak.

Later, toen ik met vrienden en familie sprak en de foto’s van het incident bekeek, werd de ernst van de situatie nog duidelijker. Als Rob iets sneller had gereden, als mijn hoofd slechts een paar centimeter hoger boven het dak van de ATV had gezeten, of als mijn reflexen niet zo snel waren geweest, had de uitkomst heel, heel anders kunnen zijn. Ik had direct dood kunnen zijn, maar ook had mijn hoofd verpletterd kunnen worden tussen het ATV-dak en de ijzeren balk. In dat geval had ik fysiek verlamd kunnen raken en/of mentaal gehandicapt kunnen worden.

Dit zijn de angstaanjagende "wat-als"-scenario’s die niet zijn gebeurd, en ik voel me enorm gezegend dat dat zo is. Dit nu te kunnen schrijven, slechts een week na het ongeluk, in goede mentale en redelijke fysieke gezondheid, voelt als niets minder dan een wonder voor mij.

Later, toen ik de situatie analyseerde, werd duidelijk wat er mis was gegaan. Rob had ons eerder gewaarschuwd dat hij niet zeker wist of de ATV zou passen omdat de poort op een helling stond. Het probleem was simpel: de achterkant van het dak van de ATV was iets hoger dan de voorkant, wat betekende dat het de metalen balk had geraakt. Tja, logisch!

Ik lag op de grond in de passagiersstoel en voelde een scherpe pijn in mijn hoofd. Instinctief reikte ik naar mijn hoofd en voelde iets warms en papperigs op mijn hoofdhuid. Toen ik naar mijn rechterhand keek, zat die onder het bloed—mijn arm ook. Dit is niet goed, dacht ik...

De gedachte kwam kort in me op: Dit is het... Dit is het einde van mijn leven op aarde. Vreemd genoeg zong ik op datzelfde moment een lied—alleen in mijn gedachten—een lied tot God over Zijn liefde voor mij en mijn liefde voor Hem. Het was een kort moment, maar het was echt.

Opmerking: Een paar dagen later, toen ik weer thuis was en mijn zwager langs kwam om te checken hoe het met me ging en de details van wat er was gebeurd door te nemen, herinnerde ik me het duidelijk. Die herinnering raakte me diep—het was emotioneel, omdat ik toen weer besefte dat het echt was gebeurd. Het besef dat ik zo dicht bij de dood was en toch een lied tot God zong, roept nog steeds iets moois en geestelijks in mij op. Ik weet niet meer precies welk lied ik toen zong, maar ik weet dat het er een is die ik eerder heb gezongen. Wanneer het moment daar is, geloof ik dat het weer bij me terugkomt.

Terwijl ik op de grond van de ATV lag, draaide Chris zich naar me om en vroeg: “Ruben, gaat het?” Hij vroeg het omdat hij lichtjes zijn hoofd tegen een paal had gestoten. Ik antwoordde kalm: “Nee, nee, niet goed. Helemaal niet goed.”

Terwijl ik op de grond van de ATV lag, draaide Chris zich naar me om en vroeg: “Ruben, gaat het?” Hij vroeg het omdat hij zelf lichtjes zijn hoofd tegen een paal had gestoten.

Ik antwoordde kalm: “Nee, nee, niet goed. Helemaal niet goed.”

Tegen die tijd was Rob uit de truck gesprongen en gebruikte hij snel het zaklampje van zijn telefoon om de situatie te beoordelen. Hij zag me op de vloer van de ATV zitten, met bloed dat de rechterkant van mijn hoofd bedekte, en een zichtbare wond van 5 bij 5 cm.

Ondanks de ernst van de situatie had ik tijdens het ongeluk mijn bewustzijn niet verloren, wat als een kleine opluchting voelde te midden van de chaos. Ik herinner me Dat Rob even terugliep naar de truck, scheldend met intense energie, terwijl hij probeerde te verwerken wat er net was gebeurd.

Mijn lichaam schokte oncontroleerbaar door zowel het trauma als de kou terwijl ik op de kale metalen vloer van de ATV lag. Ik trok de capuchon van mijn hoodie omhoog om mijn hoofd te bedekken. De capuchon bedekte ook het grootste deel van de bebloede wond op mijn hoofd, waardoor mijn collega’s—Denise, Chris en Rob—niet konden zien hoe ernstig de wond werkelijk was.

Later, in het ziekenhuis, hoorde ik dat de snee ongeveer 25 cm lang was en op het breedste punt 5 cm. Op dat moment had Chris echter alleen het bloed gezien dat onder de capuchon door sijpelde en schatte hij de wond op ongeveer 5 cm. Dat detail deelde hij met de 911-operator toen hij om hulp belde.

Hulp onderweg - blijf waar je bent

Slechts een paar minuten later belde Chris 911, terwijl Rob probeerde het adres van de ranch te vinden, die zich echt in ‘the middle of nowhere’ bevond. Ik weet niet hoe lang dat duurde, maar Denise bleef al die tijd achter me staan en bood me troost door haar warme handen om me heen te leggen.

Op een gegeven moment riep ik Robs naam drie keer. Hij hoorde me de eerste twee keer niet, maar bij de derde keer wel. Hij stond bij de voorkant van de ATV, en ik vroeg hem om voor mij en de situatie te bidden.

Rob en ik hadden eerder al gesprekken gevoerd over zakelijke en persoonlijke onderwerpen tijdens onze 1-op-1's, dus ik wist al dat we spiritueel op één lijn zaten. Op dat moment voelde zijn gebed enorm geruststellend. Ik weet niet precies wat hij bad, maar ik geloof dat het een smeekbede tot God was voor hulp, en het hielp—mij en anderen, op dat moment en misschien ook later.

Opmerking: Waarom gebeuren deze wonderen—of wat sommigen toeval zouden noemen—met mij en niet met anderen? Waarom ben ik er nog, in goede mentale en redelijke fysieke gezondheid? Dat zijn goede vragen, en eerlijk gezegd heb ik daar geen antwoorden op. Wat ik wél weet, is dat wonderen kunnen en daadwerkelijk gebeuren—ik heb er een paar in mijn leven meegemaakt—en het overleven van dit bizarre ongeluk is daar zonder twijfel een van. Er is echter meer aan dit verhaal. De andere toevalligheden, wonderen, of zoals ik het graag noem, “Gods knipoogjes,” zullen later komen. Je zult er zeker meer over lezen.

Na het gebed werd Rob rustiger. Een paar dagen later deelde hij met me dat hij na het gebed twee duidelijke taken had ontvangen:

1. Breng me uit de ATV en naar de warmte van de truck.
   Zijn grootste zorg was onderkoeling. Het was een koude avond—slechts ~4°C—en de kale metalen vloer van de ATV zorgde ervoor dat ik bijna onmiddellijk begon te rillen. Iemand met een hoofd-, nek- of rugletsel verplaatsen is meestal geen goed idee, omdat dit het letsel kan verergeren. Maar Rob vroeg me voorzichtig of ik kon bewegen. Ik draaide mijn hoofd voorzichtig, en alles voelde “normaal-ish.”

Met hulp van Rob en Chris klom ik uit de ATV, en samen liepen we langzaam naar de truck. Ik herinner me dat het warme bloed over mijn rug liep terwijl ik naar de truck liep.

2. Blijf waar je bent.
   Rob voelde ook een duidelijke boodschap: “Los het niet zelf op. Blijf waar je bent.” Dit ging volledig tegen zijn instinct in, want zijn gebruikelijke aanpak is om meteen actie te ondernemen met een “zie het, fix het”-mentaliteit.

De ambulance zou naar schatting 30 minuten nodig hebben om bij de poort aan te komen. Robs eerste gedachte was om naar de ambulance toe te rijden om tijd te besparen. Later vertelde hij me echter dat hij de ambulance zeker had gemist als hij die impuls had gevolgd. Er waren drie mogelijke routes naar de poort: één hoofdweg, een andere veelgebruikte weg en een derde, zeer kleine en zelden gebruikte weg.

En raad eens van welke route de ambulance kwam? De derde, minst waarschijnlijke route. Door bij de poort te blijven en niet naar de ambulance te rijden, zorgde Rob ervoor dat ze elkaar niet misliepen en er geen extra tijd werd verspild in deze al kritieke situatie.

Ik slaagde erin om op de achterbank van de truck te klimmen en te gaan liggen. Ik rilde nog steeds, maar begon langzaam op te warmen. Rob had de beheerder van het ranchterrein gebeld—een neef van de eigenaar die in de buurt woonde—en hij kwam om te helpen. Hij bracht wat dekens mee, die samen met de verwarmde achterbank en de extra lagen kleding hielpen om mijn lichaamstemperatuur weer te stabiliseren.

Later vertelde Chris me dat de beheerder onderweg naar de plaats van het ongeval een kat had zien oversteken en onderweg ook een hert had aangereden met zijn auto. En dat alles gebeurde net na volle maan. Stel je dit alles eens voor onder de gloed van een volle maan. 😉

Rob zat op de voorstoel en hield mijn hand vast. Af en toe kneep hij er zachtjes in en vroeg: “Ben je er nog?” Elke keer stelde ik hem gerust: “Ja—ja, ik ben er nog.”

Drie oproepen werden naar 911 (112) gedaan; één om ervoor te zorgen dat ze het juiste adres hadden. De laatste oproep was om te bevestigen hoe lang het zou duren voordat de ambulance zou arriveren. Ik herinner me vaag dat ik hoorde: “Drie minuten, en ze zijn er.”

Van nood naar zorg

Rond 20:15 uur werd ik in de ambulance geladen, en Chris ging met me mee—zittend voorin de truck, met mijn rugzak, telefoon en portemonnee. We reden langzaam over de hobbelige wegen richting San Antonio University Health—een rit van 75 minuten.

Ik kon communiceren met de paramedici, hoewel het langzaam ging omdat mijn hoofd pijn deed terwijl ik probeerde te denken en te reageren in mijn niet-moedertaal, Engels.

Ik herinner me een jonge ambulanceverpleegkundige die net van school leek te komen. Hij wist wat hij deed, maar het was duidelijk dat hij nieuw in het vak was. Het was niet helemaal “leren op de werkvloer,” maar het voelde er dichtbij. Een oudere, meer ervaren ambulanceverpleegkundige (grijs haar) hielp hem ook.

Op een gegeven moment begon de jonge ambulanceverpleegkundige een infuus te zetten—terwijl de ambulance bewoog. Ik was alert genoeg om hem twee keer te vragen of het echt een goed idee was om dat te doen terwijl we over hobbelige wegen reden. Hij verzekerde me vol vertrouwen dat het goed was.

Ik dacht met enige tegenzin: Oké, laat maar gaan. Ik ben geen fan van naalden, laat staan terwijl ik op een brancard in een bewegend voertuig lig dat over oneffen wegen stuitert. Maar op dat moment liet ik het los—dingen hadden immers erger kunnen zijn—en ik had gelijk...

Ze stelden allerlei vragen die nodig waren voor hun dossier—mijn naam, verzekeringsinformatie, geboortedatum en de huidige datum. Ik kon de meeste vragen beantwoorden, hoewel ik enkele details uit mijn portemonnee moest halen om hen te helpen een dossier over mij aan te maken.

Het is interessant hoe het gevoel voor tijd verdwijnt in zulke momenten—de rit voelde niet als de 75 minuten die het eigenlijk was. Halverwege vertelde de oudere ambulanceverpleegkundige de chauffeur om overal waar mogelijk sneller te rijden.

Tegelijkertijd raakten ze door hun voorraad normale grote verbanden heen om het bloeden te stelpen en moesten ze “gebruiken wat er beschikbaar was.” Ondanks hun inspanningen was het bloeden nog steeds niet gestopt tegen de tijd dat we bij het ziekenhuis aankwamen.

Mijn Traumakamerervaring

Omdat dit een universitair ziekenhuis was, zag ik meerdere mensen in- en uitlopen. Hoewel ik geen specialist ben, denk ik dat een van hen een "professor" was die toezicht hield; hij liep vooral rond en stelde vragen. Een hoofdarts was bezig met mijn behandeling, samen met twee coassistenten die zijn handelingen observeerden. Ik zag ook vier verschillende verpleegkundigen, waaronder een hoofdverpleegkundige die mij aansloot op de medische apparatuur.

Ik hoorde dat mijn hoofdwond door drie lagen weefsel was gegaan en de schedel had bereikt. Op dat moment was het nog niet duidelijk of ik hersen- of schedelschade had, aangezien de CT-scan nog niet was uitgevoerd. Gelukkig had ik nooit mijn bewustzijn verloren, wat in ieder geval een positief teken was.

Over positieve punten gesproken—hoewel enigszins ironisch—de injectie met verdoving direct in de wond was f#cking pijnlijk. Ik heb nog nooit eerder zulke pijn ervaren. Zelfs het hechten van de wond was vaak erg pijnlijk—waarschijnlijk omdat de verdoving niet volledig alle gebieden bereikte of omdat de zenuwen waren beschadigd. Ik weet het niet, het was heftig!

Een paar interessante observaties: een van de coassistenten viel bijna flauw toen ze de wond zag toen ik de spoedeisende hulp binnenkwam en moest gaan zitten om niet bewusteloos te raken. Ondertussen keken andere 'studenten' af en toe nieuwsgierig de kamer in—waarschijnlijk om te zien wie die Nederlandse man in de traumakamer was (althans, dat dacht ik), maar ook om de ernst van de verwonding te bekijken.

De hoofdverpleegkundige merkte aan het einde van de behandeling op dat ze in de 10 jaar dat ze in het ziekenhuis werkte nog nooit zo’n hoofdwond had gezien. Hmmm… geweldig… dacht ik bij mezelf.

Het medische team begon met het hechten van de eerste laag weefsel en was net begonnen met de tweede laag toen Chris de kamer binnenkwam om te zien hoe het met me ging. Hij was volledig geschokt—hij had niet verwacht dat de wond zo ernstig en groot was. Eerder had hij alleen een snee van 5 cm gezien en mijn met bloed bedekte hoofd, deels verborgen door de capuchon van mijn hoodie, waardoor de verwonding veel kleiner leek. De realiteit was echter veel ernstiger. Hij vertelde me dat zijn vrouw voor me bad en hoopte op een spoedig herstel.

Ik vroeg Chris om een foto te maken, zodat ik de wond later zelf kon zien. Hij maakte er een, maar toen hij 30 seconden later terugkwam, realiseerde hij zich dat de timer van de camera op 10 seconden stond. Dus maakte hij nog een foto. Vervolgens deelde hij de foto met andere collega’s die in het ziekenhuis wachtten op updates en hun steun betuigden. Ze waren allemaal geschokt toen ze de foto van de wond zagen.

Een CT-scan was nodig om te bepalen of mijn hersenen of schedel schade hadden opgelopen. De scan werd uitgevoerd in een kamer een paar deuren verder dan traumakamer 12 en duurde ongeveer 10 minuten. Het was de eerste keer dat ik een CT-scanner van binnen zag.

Na de scan kwam Chris terug, en we kletsten even. Ik kon het niet laten om het pc-systeem van het ziekenhuis op te merken—Windows 11, Imprivata, EPIC en verschillende scanners. Alles leek prima te werken, maar we grapten dat het nog sneller en veiliger zou zijn als ze Dizzions DaaS-technologie gebruikten. Ach ja, mijn hersenen werkten in ieder geval nog goed—dus alles oké!

We wachtten samen en vroegen uiteindelijk de verpleegkundige en arts naar de volgende stappen. De arts en de verpleegkundige gaven aan dat als de CT-scan geen schade aan mijn hersenen of schedel liet zien, ik zou worden ontslagen en naar huis mocht. Ik vroeg ook of ik in dat geval vrijdag kon vliegen zoals gepland. Het antwoord was simpel: “Ja.” De CT-scan toonde geen schade aan mijn schedel of hersenen, wat een enorme opluchting was. Met dat obstakel uit de weg kon de laatste stap beginnen. In de derde en laatste ronde van hechtingen en nietjes werkte het medische team om de wonden te sluiten—totaal 60 hechtingen en nietjes voor de hoofdwond en nog eens 10 voor mijn oor.

Tijdens deze tijd kwamen mijn collega’s Yangzhi (Z), Nemanja en Chris T langs om me te zien. Z was vooral emotioneel—hij voelde zich diep schuldig over wat er was gebeurd. We huilden allebei terwijl we elkaar omhelsden, en ik stelde hem gerust door te zeggen: “Geen zorgen, alles komt goed. Er is helemaal geen reden voor schuldgevoel, voor niemand!”

Terwijl ze nog steeds bezig waren met de hechtingen en nietjes, herinner ik me hoe pijnlijk dat was. De arts vroeg: “Heb je meer verdovingsinjecties nodig?” Ik herinner me dat ik vroeg hoeveel hechtingen er nog over waren. “Ongeveer 10,” antwoordde hij. Ik dacht erover na en besloot: “Laten we doorgaan met de hechtingen. De injecties zijn ook superpijnlijk.” Ik telde af bij elke hechting en elk nietje. De arts stopte bij acht—geweldig—maar 10 minuten later voegde hij nog twee hechtingen toe om het bloeden op mijn voorhoofd te stoppen. Shit!

De hechtingen en nietjes waren eindelijk klaar, en ze begonnen mijn hoofd en lichaam schoon te maken. Ze gebruikten een koudewater-minidouche om mijn hoofdwond te spoelen en schoon te maken. Het koude water ging overal heen en maakte mijn shirt, broek en alles eronder doorweekt. Aan het einde hiervan moest al mijn kleding worden weggegooid. Het was met een schaar doorgeknipt, volledig bebloed en te vies om mee naar huis te nemen. Dus nam ik afscheid van alles—geen verzamelobjecten.

Mijn oor had ook een vrij grote snee, en een plastisch chirurg stond klaar om het te hechten. Tegen die tijd was de belangrijkste wond op mijn hoofd gesloten, had de CT-scan positieve resultaten opgeleverd, en was ik enigszins schoongemaakt.

Rond 08:00 uur in Nederland belde ik mijn vrouw Jacoline via FaceTime. Ik zette mijn camera uit om haar niet bang te maken, maar dat plan werkte niet zoals bedoeld. Alleen al het horen van mijn verhaal was genoeg om haar compleet te shockeren. Mijn hart brak terwijl ik huilde en haar vertelde over het moment waarop ik dacht dat ik ter plekke zou sterven en haar niet meer zou zien. Het was een van de moeilijkste dingen om te delen.

We spraken ongeveer vijf minuten voordat de plastisch chirurg arriveerde om mijn oor te herstellen. Nog eens tien pijnlijke injecties en hechtingen later was het eindelijk klaar.

We spraken ongeveer vijf minuten voordat de plastisch chirurg arriveerde om mijn oor te herstellen. Nog eens tien pijnlijke injecties en hechtingen later was het eindelijk klaar.

Ondertussen waren mijn collega’s naar het hotel gegaan om al mijn spullen op te halen. Rob stond erop dat ik bij hem thuis zou blijven, zodat hij me in de gaten kon houden tijdens mijn herstel. Zijn vrouw had de logeerkamer al voor me klaargemaakt, en Rob had nog snel wat nieuwe kleding voor me meegebracht, omdat mijn eigen kleding volledig onbruikbaar was.

Zijn vriendelijkheid en ondersteuning betekenden zoveel voor me, het was echt hartverwarmend. We wachtten anderhalf uur tot mijn dossier klaar was. Na ongeveer 75 minuten gingen mijn collega’s navragen wat de vertraging veroorzaakte. Het simpele antwoord? “We kunnen hem niet vinden...” Natuurlijk, hij is Nederlands en geen Amerikaanse burger—dat verklaart het. Ik weet niet helemaal zeker wat er fout ging—misschien was het mijn minder-dan-perfecte Engels 😉, of misschien dachten ze dat ik lokaal was omdat iemand anders zijn Engels nog slechter was. Misschien waren de systemen niet gekoppeld, of was het iets heel anders. Hoe dan ook, het maakte uiteindelijk niet echt uit.

Aangezien ik vrijdag naar huis wilde vliegen—de vlucht was al een tijd geleden geboekt—en ik fysiek in staat was om te reizen, vroegen we om een ‘Fit to Fly’-document. Dit was niet zomaar een aantekening ergens verstopt in het tien pagina’s lange medische dossier, zoals oorspronkelijk geschreven, maar we vroegen om een apart, één pagina tellend document dat ik aan de luchtvaartmaatschappij kon laten zien als dat nodig was. Met de hulp van ChatGPT vonden we een template met de benodigde details, en binnen vijf minuten was het papierwerk klaar.

We hadden alles: de Fit to Fly-verklaring, een lijst met voorgeschreven medicijnen om op te halen, ik heb geen creditcardinformatie, paspoort of nier achtergelaten—alles geregeld! Samen met Nemanja en Chris haalden we de voorgeschreven medicijnen op. Kort daarna arriveerde Rob om me op te halen en mee te nemen naar zijn huis.

Voordat we het ziekenhuis verlieten, vroeg ik Rob om te bidden en dank uit te spreken, en dat deed hij.

Tussen zorg en dankbaarheid

Tijdens de 15 minuten durende rit naar zijn huis voelde ik me plotseling oververhit en had ik het gevoel dat ik moest overgeven. Ongeveer een minuut later riep Rob: RUBEN!"

Ik schrok wakker, doorweekt van het zweet. Ik was flauwgevallen. Rob zei onmiddellijk: "Ik ga terug naar het ziekenhuis," maar ik stond erop: "Nee, ik ben oké. Laat me het raam openen om af te koelen en wat frisse lucht te krijgen." Na een paar momenten voelde ik me beter en vervolgden we onze rit naar zijn huis.

We kwamen donderdagochtend aan, en rond 5:30 uur kroop ik eindelijk in bed. Ik slaagde erin ongeveer 1,5 uur te slapen, maar het was geen rustgevende slaap. Mijn hoofd bleef de gebeurtenissen als een film afspelen, het deed pijn, en ik kon geen comfortabele houding vinden om te liggen—links, rechts of achterop—alle slaapkanten van mijn hoofd waren beschadigd en supergevoelig.

Donderdagochtend stond vooral in het teken van rusten en het schrijven van een WhatsApp-bericht aan familie en vrienden om in meer detail uit te leggen wat er was gebeurd. Dit was een aanvulling op het goede bericht dat Jacoline al had geschreven en gedeeld terwijl ik "sliep." Ze deed fantastisch werk om iedereen op de hoogte te houden.

Alle senior-leiderschapcollega’s kwamen in de middag bij Rob thuis, en we spraken kort en omhelsden elkaar. Later in de avond at ik wat kippensoep en bananen—eten was pijnlijk, omdat het ongeluk ook invloed had gehad op mijn kaken.

Rob en ik spraken ongeveer anderhalf uur en deelden onze ervaringen, wonderen, gebeden en de impact van het ongeluk op ons. Het was echt een betekenisvol en bijzonder gesprek. Rob zorgde ervoor dat alles klaar was voor mijn reis. Hij regelde speciale assistentiediensten op zowel de luchthavens van San Antonio als Atlanta en een speciaal ticket om me gemakkelijker door de beveiliging en douane te helpen.

We namen ook contact op met een gezamenlijke vriend, Kevin, die in Atlanta woont. Hij bood vriendelijk aan om het backupplan te zijn voor het geval de eerste vlucht niet goed zou gaan of als ik om wat voor reden dan ook in Atlanta moest blijven.

Ik had tot donderdagavond geen pijnstillers genomen, maar probeerde toen één Advil om te zien hoe ik erop zou reageren en om een goede nachtrust te krijgen. Gelukkig werkte het—ik kreeg 6,5 uur rust, de meeste die ik tot nu toe tijdens de hele reis had gehad.

Ik werd redelijk uitgerust wakker en had een topontbijt: roerei, een eiwitshake, vitaminewater en bananen. Daarna nam ik mijn tweede volledige bodydouche, pakte mijn handbagage in en schreef een briefje aan Rob om hem te bedanken voor alles.

Rob en zijn vrouw vertrokken even om hun andere auto naar de garage te brengen en kwamen ongeveer 20 minuten later terug dan gepland, maar we hadden nog ruim de tijd om naar de luchthaven te gaan, die slechts 15 minuten rijden was vanaf Robs huis. Tijd om te gaan 😊 Toen we het huis verlieten, zag ik de trailer met de buggy en de ATV. Ik dacht bij mezelf: Laten we een paar foto’s maken—deze kunnen later handig zijn om uit te leggen wat er is gebeurd. En ja, ze bleken erg nuttig te zijn!

Twee stappen verwijderd van thuis

Op San Antonio Airport had ik de rolstoelservice niet nodig. Het was slechts een wandeling van 3 minuten naar de TSA, en dat lukte me alleen—gewoon langzaam bewegend.

De gezichtsherkenningsscanner werkte niet bij de controle—duh. De TSA-manager controleerde handmatig mijn paspoort en keurde mijn toegang goed met een glimlach, en we lachten allebei om de kleine hapering. Er waren geen problemen bij de beveiliging met mijn medicijnen, ijspacks of andere extra items die ik normaal niet meeneem op reis—alles verliep soepel.

Terwijl ik bij de gate op mijn vlucht naar Atlanta wachtte, verscheen Chris opnieuw. Wat een geweldige en attente collega! Hij vertelde me dat zijn vrouw God had geprezen en voor mijn veilige reis terug naar Nederland had gebeden. We spraken kort voordat we afscheid namen.

Toen het instappen begon, kon ik als eerste het vliegtuig binnen en mijn stoel vinden—27H, een stoel bij het raam. Het was niet ideaal, omdat ik vaak naar het toilet moest. De dokter had me aangeraden om veel water te drinken om mijn herstel te bevorderen, en ik volgde dat advies op—maar dat betekende ook veel trips naar het toilet. Ik had liever een stoel aan het gangpad gehad, en gelukkig kon ik ruilen met een man die een stoel aan het gangpad had. Alles geregeld en klaar om te gaan! Hoewel de dokter me had verzekerd dat ik "Fit to Fly" was, en ik het officiële papierwerk had om dat te bewijzen, voelde ik toch wat spanning toen ik aan boord van het vliegtuig ging. Ik wist niet zeker hoe mijn hoofd en wond zouden reageren op de cabinedruk, het lawaai en de algehele omgeving.

Die spanning verdween snel toen de tweede of derde persoon die aan boord ging—en uiteindelijk naast me in de middelste stoel kwam zitten—vroeg: “Wat is er gebeurd?” Ik antwoordde: “Ongeluk...” waarop hij reageerde: “Ja, dat kan ik zien.” Ik voegde toen toe: “Kun je ziekenhuisfoto’s aan?” Hij glimlachte en zei: “Zeker. Ik ben ambulanceverpleegkundige en nu actief ‘Medic’ in het Amerikaanse leger—ik heb wel wat dingen gezien.” Ik liet hem een paar foto’s zien, en we hadden uiteindelijk een leuk gesprek. We spraken over Arizona, Phoenix en Sedona, en hij typte zelfs wat tips uit over dingen om te doen in Sedona. Lang verhaal kort, deze man voelde meteen als mijn fysieke beschermengel tijdens de vlucht 😉. Het toeval—of zoals ik het zou noemen, een “Gods knipoog”—ontging me niet. Het voelde alsof God zei: “Ik heb voor je gezorgd tijdens het ongeluk. Je hebt al wonderen gezien, en hier is iemand om ook voor je te zorgen.” Ik kon niet anders dan glimlachen om de humor en het gevoel van geruststelling in dat moment.

De vlucht duurde ongeveer twee uur—niets bijzonders, behalve een vertraging van 20 minuten, waardoor mijn overstap in Atlanta werd verkort van 55 minuten naar ongeveer 35. Het was nog steeds haalbaar, maar gezien mijn langzamere tempo was het niet ideaal. Daar kwam de rolstoelservice goed van pas. Kevin had eerder een goed punt gemaakt door tegen Rob te zeggen: “Pro tip: wat er ook gebeurt, zorg ervoor dat Ruben in Atlanta in een rolstoel terechtkomt—vliegtuigen vertrekken niet voordat alle rolstoelpassagiers aan boord zijn.” Hij had gelijk—de service werkte perfect, en ik haalde mijn gate ook nog eens op tijd.

Fit to fly!

De Nederlandse KLM-crew van KL624 liep langs terwijl ik bij de gate wachtte. We wisselden snel een "Hoi" uit, en ik sprak kort met de gezagvoerder. Toen ik hen vertelde over mijn ongeluk—mijn hoofd tussen een ijzeren balk en een ATV slechts 36 uur geleden—werden zijn ogen groot en zei hij: “Wacht, weet je zeker dat je kunt vliegen?”

Ik stelde hem gerust met een glimlach: “Ja, ik ben fit to fly.” Daarna voegde hij zich bij de rest van de crew.

Vervolgens ging ik naar de gatebalie om een paar vragen te stellen. Een daarvan was over de beschikbaarheid van een Business Class-stoel. Ik had de avond ervoor en eerder die ochtend gecontroleerd, maar toen waren er geen beschikbaar. Tot mijn verrassing vertelde de vriendelijke gate-agent me: “Ja, er is nog één stoel beschikbaar.” Ik grapte: “Wat zijn de kansen… Wat zijn de kansen dat de KLM-crew mijn Economy-stoel zou ruilen voor die Business Class-stoel?” De agent lachte, schudde zijn hoofd en zei: “Nou, vier anderen op de wachtlijst willen het graag kopen voor $975, dus ik denk niet dat het nog beschikbaar zal zijn als je aan boord gaat.” Ik glimlachte en antwoordde: “Nou, je bent of een uitstekende verkoper of je hebt helemaal gelijk.”Ik maakte het mezelf iets gemakkelijker en kocht de stoel. Een ligbed, kussen en dekens klonken als een goede investering voor een 9 uur durende vlucht.

Een paar minuten later had de KLM-gezagvoerder de gate-agent gevraagd om bewijs dat ik ‘fit to fly’ was. Ik overhandigde het document dat de verpleegkundige van het ziekenhuis had verstrekt, en alles werd goedgekeurd.

Kort daarna ging ik aan boord van het vliegtuig en werd naar mijn Business Class-stoel begeleid door de KLM-crew. Later, tijdens de vlucht, hadden we verschillende gesprekken. De crew nam zelfs wat foto’s van me: een met mijn huidige gezicht, een van mijn zakelijke profielfoto’s en een andere die de ziekenhuisfoto van de wond liet zien. Een van hen merkte op: “Wow, je had zeker een paar beschermengelen.”

Het is interessant—ik slaap normaal gesproken 4-5 uur in een Economy-stoel op dit soort vluchten. Maar deze keer, ondanks het comfort van een fijn bed, een kussen en een deken, sliep ik slechts 1,5 uur. Mijn hoofd draaide overuren, en ik merkte dat ik naar muziek luisterde, aan het bidden was, vragen aan God stelde en gewoon openstond om te horen wat Hij te zeggen had. En verrassend genoeg was ik helemaal niet moe.

Ophalen. Omhelzingen. Thuis!

Ik arriveerde zaterdagochtend rond 6:00 uur op Schiphol. Het was koud en mistig, maar er waren geen annuleringen of vertragingen van mijn vlucht. Jacoline, Rosalie en Mirthe stonden op me te wachten. We omhelsden elkaar, nog meer omhelzingen—het was zo ongelooflijk om weer thuis te zijn en mijn gezin weer te kunnen vasthouden. Julian is aan het reizen, dus die hugs komen later nog extra erbij wanneer hij terug is.

Op de weg naar huis spraken we over wat er was gebeurd. Eenmaal thuis ging ik meteen naar bed voor een broodnodige slaap van 4–5 uur. Later spraken we meer over het ongeluk, waarbij we de foto’s van de trailer en ATV’s, die ik op het laatste moment bij Rob thuis had gemaakt, gebruikten om beter uit te leggen wat er was gebeurd.

Gedurende de dag kwamen vrienden en familie één voor één langs. Ik bracht tijd met hen door, legde de gebeurtenissen uit en liet foto’s zien om het verhaal te vertellen.

Er waren een paar speciale "aha"-momenten tijdens deze gesprekken, waarvan veel al in dit verhaal zijn opgenomen. Maar er is er één die ik tot nu toe heb bewaard—bijna tot het einde.

Het bericht uit het dagboek

Op zaterdagmiddag bladerde ik door de foto’s op mijn telefoon om iets te laten zien aan vrienden die bij ons thuis waren om te kijken hoe het met me ging. Terwijl ik door de foto’s scrolde, kwam ik een foto tegen die ik die ochtend op 15 januari had gemaakt van het dagboek op de ranch. Het is de foto die ik al eerder in dit document had gedeeld!

Van alle boeken die ik had kunnen openen, opende ik dít bijbels dagboek. Van de 365 pagina’s opende ik precies die van 15 januari—de exacte datum van die dag en van het ongeluk die avond. En nu, terwijl ik opnieuw lees wat er op die pagina staat, is het prachtig—gek! Ik weet dat deze woorden weken, maanden of misschien jaren geleden zijn geschreven door iemand die niets wist van mij en mijn ervaring op 15 januari 2025. Toch kan een pagina vol betekenis soms iets betekenen voor iemand anders—zoals voor mij! 😊 😉