Geralyn Ritter was on Amtrak 188 when it was going 106 mph while taking a turn designed for trains to be going about 50 mph. The train derailed, killing eight people and injuring more than 200, including Geralyn.
For Geralyn Ritter, most of May 13, 2015 was an average day. The New Jersey woman took the Amtrak train she regularly took to commute to work, where she spent the morning, afternoon and early evening. And at the end of the day, as usual, she boarded an Amtrak train to go home. She was nearing her trip's end and texting her husband to let him know when she was expecting to arrive when suddenly, that average day became anything but.
"I was standing in the aisle holding onto the luggage rack, and really starting to rock," Geralyn tells Inside Edition Digital.
As the train rounded a curve, she felt as if she was tipping over.
"I remember thinking really clearly, 'We can't be tipping. It feels like we're tipping, but we can't be tipping. Trains don't tip,'" she says. "And as I kept going forward, I just remember this flash of realization that we were tipping. I think I remember screaming, and that's my last memory."
Amtrak 188 was going 106 mph when it hit a curve that trains were meant to take at about 50 mph. It careened off its track in a derailment that killed eight and injured more than 200, including Geralyn.
Geralyn's husband, Jonathan, learned of the derailment when a breaking news alert popped up on his phone.
"He immediately tried to call me and it went to voicemail," she says.
He used the Find My iPhone app and saw that Geralyn's phone was in the area where the news reported the crash occurred.
"And then he just thought, 'I've got to go find her,'" she says.
While Jonathan and a friend drove to the crash site to try to find her, their two oldest sons, 15 and 12 at the time, called all the area hospitals to see if their mother has been admitted.
"What just breaks my heart, the text messages between my sons and my husband that night," she says. "'Dad, have you found her, dad?' 'Dad, I need my mom.' 'Dad, are you there yet?' 'Dad, the news says people are dead.' 'Dad, five.' 'Dad, six.'"
Jonathan looked all night for Geralyn, but was unable to find her. He eventually learned that there was a Jane Doe in surgery at Penn Presbyterian Medical Center. He rushed to the hospital, but because her injuries were so severe, Jonathan was unable to recognize his wife.
"I'm covered in surgical drapes, I've got casts on both arms and my eyes are taped shut. All he could see were my eyebrows," she says.
Doctors brought in her belongings and jewelry, which her husband recognized.
"He said they just fell on the ground, and cried," Geralyn says. "And my husband texted my son and wrote, 'I found her. She's alive.'"
Geralyn's injuries were so severe that doctors were not sure she'd survive.
"They said basically, 'You hit with such force that all of your abdominal organs were thrown up into your chest,'" she says. "My stomach was up by my heart. My colon was in my armpit."
Her injuries also included a ruptured diaphragm, a destroyed spleen, a perforated bladder and perforated intestines. All of her ribs were broken, her pelvis was broken in half, she broke C7 in her neck, and the L2, L3, and L4 vertebrae in her lower back, and she was covered in so much dust and gravel from the train tracks that doctors feared she would be blind, she says.
"Eight people died in the accident," she says. "Many of them were sitting right around me. I was in the first car of the train. And if you look at photos of the accident, the other cars are tipped over on their side, but the first car doesn't look like a train car. It looks like a debris field."
Geralyn underwent several surgeries to repair the extensive damage she suffered. All the while, she suffered excruciating pain.
"You're not even seeing straight. You can't focus on what anyone is saying," she says. "It hurts to breathe, and that pain was crushing. Everything hurt. I remember closing my eyes and thinking that the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming."
Doctors eventually began putting Geralyn's body back together. They rebuilt her ribcage, put her bones back into place, and put screws and bars inside her body to stabilize her. She was eventually discharged, but was dependent on family for help.
"It was really, really, hard," she says. "I couldn't drive myself. I couldn't even go to the bathroom by myself. I went from being very independent, and all of a sudden, I can't get out of bed without help.
"The trauma surgeon said, 'How are you doing?' And I looked at her. And I kind of startled because nobody had asked me that. I looked at her, and I couldn't answer. I just started crying," she continues. "And I guess that was her answer: 'not very well.'"
Geralyn had severe PTSD and depression after the accident, which took processing.
"That's kind of what no one prepares you for," she says. "The emotional and the mental health aspects of physical trauma are very real. It changes your brain. It's not a matter of not being strong. It's chemical changes in your brain, and your nervous system literally is stuck on high alert. And you can't just will that away."
What were once every day parts of life became huge obstacles to overcome.
"It was very scary to ride in a car," she says. "And not because I was afraid it would crash. It was just that feeling of going around a curve. My body was so scared, it's just involuntary."
Geralyn got back on a train seven months after the accident. She still takes the train regularly.
"When we go past that curve, no matter what I'm doing, I could be in the middle of a book or watching a show, I feel it in my bones," she says. "I can't even describe it. I have to just settle myself."
Nine years later, Geralyn is still recovering. She says her body isn't the same as it once was, and she is still in pain. But things are improving. She has since written a book about her experience, the proceeds of which she donates to the American Trauma Society and the Trauma Survivors Network.
And Geralyn has advice for anyone going through something hard to consider.
"Balance," she said. "Being grateful that you did survive, what you do have. Whether it's good doctors, a supportive spouse or caregiver, or your kids. There's always something. Keeping that gratitude and that optimism, but also balancing it with cold, hard realism and acceptance. Because there are some things, we cannot change.
"Lastly, I'll just say, focusing on the things you can do. None of us walk through life unscathed. And balancing that gratitude and optimism with the realism and reaching out to other people and trying to put it in a broader perspective and figuring out what you really can do. Those are resilience muscles in a way, if you will, that we can all exercise."
