Thursday:
80 year old neighbor Carl (across the street...the Snows Big Red Barn Dance neighbors) somehow (he can't remember what happened, I think it was another stroke) drove his pickup truck off the road at the top of a cliff and rolled it 50 yards down a ravine. Someone saw the wreck and called 911 and he was taken in an ambulance to the hospital. His wife (the lovely Barb) doesn't drive at night, but was naturally hysterical when she heard the news and came over. Aaron wasn't home yet, so we packed up the kids and I drove her to the hospital. As we went back into the ER I realized that we had NO IDEA what kind of mess we were about to see, and I had my kids with me! Luckily, I had my "church bag" (full of toys, markers, etc) with me, so I sat them down against a wall around the corner outside the room and gave them coloring books and markers. (Color Wonder markers are the greatest invention EVER). I went in braced to see blood.
No Carl (sigh.) He was still having Xrays done. I told Barb that Aaron was on his way to the hospital to get the kids and that we would wait in the foyer until he came. She hesitantly let us go.
So for 30 minutes, I let my kids romp around the ER waiting room. I THOUGHT that by bringing them out into the foyer I was protecting them from witnessing a gory scene that could possibly traumatize them forever, but instead I exposed them to all the nasty "less catastrophic" ER cases that were waiting to be seen. Like the kid with the funky rash. The old lady with the ice pack on her arm that swore like a sailor, the vomit in the trash can, and the little girls with croup that ran around the room infecting everything. I wasn't sure which was a better place to be, so we hibernated in the corner at the tiny table and colored until Aaron came to pick them up.
Notice Reese is wearing her "security hood" She keeps her hood up when she is nervous, it's really cute. It started a year ago during thunderstorm season. She would put on a hoodie at bedtime and use the hood to cover her ears to muffle the thunder. Now it has become a habit and she sleeps with a "jacket" every night. I wonder what else I could talk her into doing if I'd just let her wear a hoodie. Hmmm...
After Aaron took the kids, I went back to check on Barb and Carl. This time I wasn't thinking about my kids, and didn't think about the effect the scene would have on me. I was NOT mentally prepared to see the carnage I walked in on. Poor Carl. I'm sure he was under there somewhere. They had not cleaned him up yet. At all. It was pretty gross. Barb was relieved to see me, as she had not been able to work up enough courage to look at him yet. I feel bad for the older generation that hasn't even been exposed to "fake carnage" like we are in movies and shows like Greys or ER. Barb hasn't had that. She made them cover his face with a sheet until she was out in the hall and out of sight. When I returned, I tried to convince her that he needs her, and that she could do this for him. She was pretty shaken up, and not sure if she could. We comprimised and I went in with her and set up chairs at the foot of his bed so she could pat his leg once in awhile and let him know she was there with him. It was sweet to see that he was totally coherent when she would speak to him, even when he was drifting in and out of consciousness when doctors and the trauma team came in the room and attempted to keep a conversation going with him. I saw more than I thought my stomach would be able to handle, but there really is something about looking at a cut up guy on tv (which turns my stomach) and looking at someone you care about all cut up. I felt bad that Barb's shock was keeping her from being able to let HIM see HER face. The healing effect of love is just as important as medicine and stitches.
Anyway, I was given the task of talking to doctors and surgeons and radiologists and then the police officer who reported to the wreck. I felt out of place doing all this, since the first words in my introduction were always "no I'm not his granddaughter, I'm his neighbor" and followed by raised eyebrows and strange looks that said "why are you here" and "I hope this doesn't violate HIPA rights by giving you this information". Barb was grateful though, and I really was happy to help in an otherwise helpless situation. I'm usually ALL about other people's bidness, but this was suprisingly much more difficult, as I knew the "gossip" I had the luxury of passing on, was bad bews, and the eager recipient of the news would be sad. Not a fun job at all.
According to doctors and police, Our friend Carl is lucky to be alive (ahem, wear your seatbelt people) and despide the gash and swelling across his forehead and right eye, his skull is free of fractures. His ribs are in bad shape though. I'm going to try to visit him tomorrow morning when Reese is at preschool group. He's in ICU now and all bandaged up, so it won't be a traumatic sight for Q to take her with me.
So anyway, that's how we spent Thursday night. Hours in the ER holding Barb's hand, giving hugs and letting her cry all she wants while we wait for more information and for her kids to arrive. When they did, I was happy to pass the torch, but even happier to see Barb stand up and walk to the head of Carls bed, arm in arm with her son to take a better look at her companion. I guess some things are easier to do when you have the support of a loved one to guide us through the tough parts. Maybe she was just waiting for him to arrive. At Carl's age, recovery will not be easy, or ever fully complete after a wreck like this. I am grateful for my health and have again been reminded that our lives on Earth are short. It is important that my husband and children know that if they were ever hurt, nothing could tear me away from their bedside if I knew my love could help them heal.
