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Slowly I rolled to expose the zipper behind which my cell phone was stowed. My Blackberry Storm, the buggiest, most frustrating phone I ever paid a ton of money for. My only link to much-needed medical help. I picked that zipper open, one tooth at a time, balancing my arm, blinking sweat and dirt out of my eyes, choking back the sobbing I desperately wanted to lose myself in. Almost an hour had passed since my crash when I finally freed my phone.