As Much Of Hannah's Story As I Know

“Hannah”
She was a little aggravated. All the spots to stretch out on the floor for a halfway decent sleep were all gone. Sleeping upright in a bus seat is not high on her favorites list. She’d just had to deal with a bloody nose too and wasn’t sure it was done, so she is half awake.
The bus swerves, was it to the left? Then back, then the tell-tale sound of the rumble bumps and then she is trying to hold on as the bus begins its tip. There is not much to hold on to on a bus seat when it comes right down to it….
The next waking thought is clouded with a bloody face and bodies on top of her; two?, three?, and she’s in a crumpled ball under it all. Vaguely she is aware of screams and some panic. “Get off me! I can’t breathe!” How long before they listen? Then, in the dark band mates trying to leave through the escape hatch in the roof that is now a side wall. “Where’s my pillow?” one girl panics. “Never mind!” Hannah shouts, “This is an emergency! JUST GET OFF THE BUS!”
A chaperone from the other bus is soon by her side, because now she realizes she can’t get out on her own. Both feet are stuck outside the glassless window she is sitting in. Her legs are under her at slightly strange angles. Paul, the chaperone is astounded at her calm. She is beginning to wonder what life might be like with out a foot or two, but is confident of life. The firefighters are there too. One stays with her and Paul until he figures out how to use a little saw blade to dig her out. An hour and a half. She asks about the kids in the front of the bus, she knows there are others trapped, but they won’t tell her anything. “You just worry about taking care of you here,” is all they say. As her legs finally pull free, the sensation returns to her feet and “It just kills!” It is that tingling sensation when your arm “goes to sleep” only “50 times.”
They get her out through the roof hatch, on the back-board, they put the cervical collar on. “I’m fine,” she insists, but they have a job to do. She is the first of the trapped students to get out. They decide she needs to be airlifted to the trauma center at North Memorial in Robbinsdale. “I’m fine,” she insists, to no avail.
“It was a beautiful sunrise from the helicopter,” she reports later. She is able to give home and cell numbers to the medics in the chopper, who in turn, give them to the outreach worker at the hospital who then calls her parents.
Once she woke up on the bottom of the pile in the bus, she is awake and alert through the whole thing.
X-rays show no damage, CT scan reveal suspected minor internal bleeding. She has significant “road rash” on her face and arms but her legs are remarkably unscathed. She credits the thick sweat pants she was wearing. She is a dirty mess, though. Grass and dirt and little chunks of gravel keep falling from her hair and hands and head and arms. Every bed she is on she leaves her outline in dirt on the sheets. She doesn’t really get fully cleaned up until late on Sunday. Her nurses and mother and aunts and friends keep helping her pick away at the mess; strands of hair that were scraped out of her scalp by the rough ride on the bottom of the pile she keeps handing to her father for him to throw away.She recovers quickly. The foot she could not put weight on at all on Saturday she is walking on by Sunday afternoon. Blood tests that were causing minor concern for internal bleeding normalize by Sunday morning. The physical therapist that did her pre-release assessment was surprised to let her go with no restrictions. Her trauma doctor recommends a week off from school.