The worst night of my life -- and hers...

"It's only grass!" And then she took a running step, a stumble, an audible gasp, and disappeared into the darkness.

We were at the rented house on the coast, celebrating the wedding of two good friends, the groom being her brother. The house was situated at the top of a hill above the coast, offering a terrific view of the ocean and surrounding beaches. Visiting from NJ for the wedding, she'd never yet set foot onto the Oregon beach at night. Before going to bed -- or likely passing out after a day of celebration -- she asked that I follow up on an earlier suggestion, that we step out to the beach at some point in the night.

We were following what appeared to be a graveled, tiered path between the house and it's neighbor, heading to what looked like a way down towards the beach. I was providing a muted light from my cell phone to the lip of the hill. As we neared, I saw that we were higher than first supposed, and that the apparent path came to an end. I mentioned this, thinking we were thwarted. But the soft, tall grass in front of us gave her confidence, apparently leading her to believe that is was an easy grade down. Then the darkness swallowed her. And the nightmare began.

I called into the darkness, yelling her name, hoping to hear her reply -- a reply I fully expected to be filled with pain, but it'd be a reply nonetheless.

"Kelli!! KELLI!!!" The only reply was the sound of the waves and the wind whipping my calls back into my face.

Should I go back and get help? Or should I follow her, possibly injuring myself and being no help to either one of us? I settled for the latter, hoping that perhaps the drop wasn't as bad as I feared, that she was merely stunned, that I'd find her with a twisted ankle and help her hobble back up. So with the light from my phone before me, I thrusted myself through the grass and almost immediately discovered the truth of matters.

I had taken a couple of steps, finding that the grass was misleading and that it was almost an immediate drop-off. My foot finding only air, it was merely the tough coastal grass that I was clutching in my other hand that held me back. I held the light down and my stomach dropped. Below me lay a sharp descent of nothing but boulders, at least 30 feet to the beach. And nowhere could I see her, hear her, or find any sign of the person that had just disappeared.

As quick as I possibly could, without killing myself, I dropped from boulder to boulder, always with the light before me, frantically searching, fearing more than anything finding the twisted form of the person I had only met hours before. And then I saw her -- the bottom of her foot, that is. She lay where she had fallen, face down, her head and upper body wedged down a crevasse, impossibly upside down, inert, immobile, and showing no signs of life. She had fallen, face first, 25 feet into these rocks and had incredibly landed in this unnatural position, completely head down into this crack between boulders that became narrower the deeper it went.

I was certain from her stillness and awkward position that she couldn't be alive.

I finally made it to her. Praying with every ounce of my breathing I knelt next to her and gently layed a hand onto her back. She was breathing! She wouldn't respond, but I could hear her breath, consistently becoming more labored, and sounding like someone blowing bubbles in their soda with a straw.

I knew there was no way anybody would have heard my cries for help. I also knew I couldn't leave her -- not like this. Calling 911 was the obvious option, but I didn't know where in the hell I was. But then I remembered having put the name of the street we were on into the maps on my phone earlier that evening, after the reception. "Just look for the cars," they had told me. So I had no address, but at least someplace to start.

I placed the call. "YES, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!" was all I could say to the posed question. I immediately rushed into it -- I didn't know exactly where I was but for the street name. I was on this rocky slope by the beach, she had fallen, she wasn't responding.

"No, I know I shouldn't move her, but there's fluid in her breath and she's upside down!"

Her breathing was becoming worse. Each breath was accompanied with what only could be described as a growl, each one more pronounced than the one before. I began to realize that this was a sign of her coming into consciousness, the sounds of the intense pain that she must be in. Soon after she began to respond to me, but not in any intelligible manner. All I could tell her was that they were coming, they'd be hear, to stay calm, and most importantly, do not move!

I was on hold with the 911 operator as they made the dispatch, accompanied by the whimpers and cries of this poor girl, oddly accentuated by the sounds of the waves behind me. The beauty of the night was breathtaking, the wind was strong and crisp, and the stars -- so many stars! --were blinking above us in their silent home in the heavens. It seemed so unreal, so unfair that this testimony to a higher power, this portrait of His creation, was all that played witness to what was transpiring below. I can't tell you how long we waited; she fading in and out of consciousness and me with a constant prayer, apologies, and futile attempts at comfort on my lips.

My battery was dying on my phone, so the operator disconnected with me to save it's battery. He told me that they were at the top of the bluff, to look for their light, and to call him back if I didn't see them. A beam penetrated the darkness, I frantically began yelling, waving my arms, willing them to see me. The light stuck me, we were seen, and they slowly started to pick their way to us.

During the eternity that I felt like we had waited for them to arrive, she had been doing her best to extricate herself from her position -- an impossible task. She ignored my supplications to stay still, that it might make things worse, all the while pleading for me to help, to get her out. It tore at my heart being unable to help her, to only try and comfort her, and clearly, understandably failing. She wanted so badly to be moved and there was nothing that I could do but sit there helplessly, knowing that if I touched her, if her neck or back were broken, I might paralyze her. But she kept trying, and I kept begging her to stop. Her efforts had only made to worsen her situation and to wedge her more tightly. And still she begged me to help.

When finally the paramedics arrived they had to call for more help. The Fire Department was needed. There was no way of moving her out of that crack, and they could only see to remove the boulders. What transpired next was a horrible time of waiting for more help, of watching them chip away at the basalt, to realize that if they moved one boulder, the next larger boulder would come loose and fall on top of her. They had no choice but to maneuver her out of there, all the while praying that there were no spinal injuries that might be exacerbated by the process.

Her shirt was ripped and part of one breast was revealed. I overheard one of the cops ask another, "Dude, did you see her boob?"

I looked at him. "WHAT did you say??!!"

He looked back at me, full in the face, paused, and holding my gaze in a manner that made it clear that I had no right to question him, that I couldn't begin to be a consideration, simply said "nothing," and turned away.

One of the paramedics was assessing her as best he could from her upside-down, pretzel like position. He placed a hand on her back and asked if she could feel it. She didn't respond and I froze in fear. Then he pinched her at the top of her thigh and asked if she could feel it. She could and relief immediately washed over me.

As her head finally emerged an hour after the respondents had first arrived, I breathed my third thanks to the heavens. She was covered in blood and it was impossible to tell from where it all came. I couldn't see through it to discover if she had any head injuries, but she was answering their questions despite being obviously dazed. They got her in the collar to protect her cervical spine and strapped her into the back board. Then they began the ascent.

I was walking with the officers up the slope and met her younger brother. They had all been totally unaware of what had been going on. They could see the emergency response vehicles, but they were parked a few houses over, so had no suspicions that they were there for anyone in our party. Her brother had come out to investigate, had seen the orange of her shirt as she disappeared into the ambulance, and rushed over to find out what was going on. As I told him that his sister had fallen down this cliff, that she was badly hurt, I finally broke down.

The cops were asking me if we had fought previously that evening. Their intentions were clear. I assured them that, no, we had not fought. They then confirmed that she had said that I had not pushed her. It seemed absurd, but I knew that they had to ask.

They took her first to Lincoln City Hospital and then transferred her to Emmanuel in Portland. Her injuries included two broken wrists, a broken jaw, three broken ribs, a lacerated liver, and three lost front teeth. Amazingly, these were the worst of her injuries. I can't imagine how she'll feel, waking up to the reality of what had happened. But I can only thank God that things weren't worse, that her head and spine were intact, that her pelvis wasn't broken in half as I had feared, and that amazingly, she had her life.

And now I need the sleep that I didn't get last night.