By the time I reached the other side of the depression, it was already 5:30 p.m. and dark. It had been a struggle to crawl about 20 feet from where I had fallen. I started to wonder if I was ever going to get to the road. My pain was only going to get worse, I told myself, and I would be in greater trouble if I lost consciousness. As I kept moving toward the road, I reflected on my life and my family. I thought about my mother, who had passed away the year before, and wondered if I would see her again before too long. I wasn't a churchgoer, but I sure was praying for God to help me.