Drunk driver corrects course

ST. LOUIS — Sarah Panzau knows some people look at her amputated left arm and the scars on her neck and legs and think she deserves them.

She doesn't hide the reason they are there.

Instead, she relives for audiences the night she nearly killed herself in a drunken-driving accident.

"I'm trying to impact people's lives and do something good with my second chance," said Panzau, 27.

In August 2003, Panzau, then 21, attended a Cardinals game. She partied with friends in St. Louis until 4 a.m. She had been drinking for at least eight hours. On her way home to Belleville, she missed the curve where Interstate 64 breaks from Interstate 55/70.

"Those are my grooves right there," Panzau said, pointing out two indentations in the pavement along I-64 where her 1996 Saturn slid on its roof before coming to a stop.

"It takes my breath away when I pass over the spot where I almost ended my life."

Panzau wasn't wearing a seat belt that night. Shards of glass from her shattered rear window severed her left arm as her body was thrown from her car. Her scalp was torn from the back of her skull. Her jaw and legs were mangled. Her rib cage snapped from her spine. Police wrote her off as a fatality at the scene and filed no charges.

"I have to live with this now," she said. "That's punishment enough. I've got a lifetime DUI in my body, in my thoughts and in my feelings."

Panzau's mother, Cindi, raced to the hospital thinking she was about to identify her daughter's body.

Instead, Cindi Panzau learned her daughter was clinging on to life. She had a blood alcohol content of .308 percent — nearly four times the legal limit to drive in Illinois.

She spent almost three months in the hospital, enduring 19 surgeries in the first month. She lost about 70 pounds while her jaw was wired shut for seven weeks.

The former Belleville West High School volleyball star pondered how drastically her life had changed. After high school, she had landed a full-ride scholarship to Southwestern Illinois College. But at 19 hitting the books took a backseat to partying, she said. She dropped out and became a bartender in Soulard.

A few months after the accident, Panzau remembers wondering: "How will I look in the mirror and be OK with this? And I decided, I'm going to talk about it."

Just as she tried to figure out how to contact groups that would be interested in her message, her phone rang.

It was a guidance counselor from Signal Hill School in Belleville, where Panzau had attended fourth grade. She had clipped stories about Panzau's accident and asked whether Panzau would discuss her life lessons with middle-school students.

In November 2004, Panzau gave her first presentation.

News of her message spread, and schools asked her to speak. Donations helped cover travel costs, but Panzau wanted to take her message nationwide.

Some Illinois State Police officers saw her presentation in late 2005 and told Anheuser-Busch's Corporate Social Responsibility Department.

The company offered to pay her salary and cover her expenses so she could speak to students across the country.

Panzau said she struggled with the offer, concerned about appearing to profit from her bad decision years ago. What persuaded her to accept, she said, was the idea that she could take her message anywhere, at no cost to schools.

From August through May, Panzau spends nearly every week in a different state, speaking at schools, military bases and universities. She said she makes a modest living.

Her presentation opens with pictures of her glory days on the volleyball court and segues into graphic pictures of her on a stretcher, taken by paramedics. Her entrance on stage coincides with pictures of her seemingly lifeless body in a hospital bed.

Mouths open. Eyes widen. Gasps are audible as she makes her way to the front.

She wears a tank top and shorts, revealing a patchwork of scars and what remains of her left arm.

"I get nervous every time," she told Hillsboro High School administrators before taking the stage there last month, "because I'm sharing things I'm not proud of and showing scars I'm very self-conscious of."

Panzau shows a jersey that she wore for the U.S. Women's Paralympic Team in 2005. She said she logged the most digs and kills in a game in Brazil.

Though pain in her arm keeps her from playing volleyball, the fact that Panzau made it that far is inspiring, said Cassidy Kirkpatrick, 18, of Hillsboro, who heard Panzau's presentation.

One of Kirkpatrick's friends was killed by a drunk driver.

"At first I was kind of mad and thought, 'Wow, that's what she gets,' when I saw her," said Kirkpatrick. "But then I realized no one deserves that."

Panzau doesn't mince words when it comes to underage drinking.

She shares a memory of her mother's head resting on the hospital bed rail, tears flowing. "Why didn't you call me?" her mother asked her.

Students at St. Dominic High School in O'Fallon, recently asked why she keeps reliving the night she almost died.

Panzau said she would do so until it no longer touches her audience.

Do you still drink?

"I don't believe there is anything wrong with drinking of age, and drinking responsibly," she said.

Panzau thinks once she turns 30, young people might not connect with her as well. Her dream is to start a nonprofit to help others share their own stories.

She moved to her own apartment last summer. A roommate helps with chores and when pain prevents Panzau from driving.

Doctor visits are routine. She has had 40 surgeries, and more may lie ahead.

"These were my choices," she said looking at her scars. "This was my fault."