Hit From Behind

11/9/12

Usually I am full of words, but over the past weeks I have been at a loss. I have watched Jamie, Mom, and now Dad eloquently and honestly update the journal with their thoughts and feelings about the accident and I have waited for my words to come. What if they never do? What if I don't have language for this? I feel it sealing off and quietly leaving me, this experience that is. But I want to catch it. I want to integrate it, or some part of me will always live in this trauma. I got a call from WakeMed on October 23rd and now I'll never be the same. I keep thinking 'First Responder'. I feel like I was the first responder to this accident. I know that the fire department and EMS were the true first responders and we owe them so much. They kept my parents alive. But I got the first call of those who know them, who love them. I was sitting in my rocker listening to the wit and wisdom of Julia, enjoying so much our conversation. And WakeMed kept calling and calling until I took it. "Your parents were out for an evening stroll and were struck by a moving vehicle. Do you want to come or should I just tell them I let you know?" I had just been with them. I went to their house after work and we ate fair left overs together for dinner. I walked down the steps and got in my car to go. I still had my door open as dad came down front steps mom calling to him did he want his sweatshirt? I realized they were going for a walk and I thought how nice it would be to walk with them, but my feet hurt and I was tired so I said bye and went home. 10 minutes after I got home I got the call. As I walked up to the emergency room I saw the metal detector and realized I had a pocket knife. Tears were streaming down my face and I felt so confused and so clear at the same time. I had one job: get there. The security guard who took my knife said, "You look like you're hurting." I said, "It's not me." as I rushed past him. The chaplain met me and took me in a room by myself. Why was it empty? There were so many chairs. All empty. The chaplain told me some friends of my parents' and my uncle were coming and wanted me to tell her what they looked like. I think I just stared at her. I repeated my question from the phone call, "Are they ok?" She repeated her maddeningly undecipherable answer, "They're talking but I can't give medical information." I'm going over how hurt you can be and still talk and wading through what I know about chaplains and trying to remember if they'll tell you if they know things are okay. Then I was alone in the room. A policewoman came in and told me they were hit by a drunk driver. The bottom fell out. The room got deafeningly silent. Drunk drivers don't slow down, they don't react, they don't see what's coming. Then I was alone again. Then a nurse brought me dad's wedding ring with blood covering it and mom's phone saying 'No SIM card' in a biohazard bag. I took it and started to cry. The nurse, "Oh honey it's ok. They're talking and your dad's cracking jokes." Now I imagined they just bumped their heads and they're sitting up in bed and just have to get CAT scans. Finally we got to go back and see them, the friends and my uncle had gotten there. I saw mom first. Flat on a bed, legs splayed like a person with a head injury. Her face was the color of concussion. Do you know that color? When someone has a concussion their face turns a certain color and it makes you feel sick and floods you with compassion. Her eyes were scared and hurting. She had dried blood coming out her nose and so much blood in her hair. Her hands were bleeding and there was blood under her fingernails. She was wearing a neck brace and was hooked up to the telemetry. She kept saying, "My shoulder hurts so bad." I held her hand and stroked her head and she said, "That feels so good." She wanted to know what was happening and where she was and where dad was. She kept asking us not to leave. My Uncle Robbie held her feet. Then Robbie was gone and next thing I knew he was standing beside the curtain at the end of the bed and he said, "Kellay you need to come see your dad before he goes to surgery." In that moment I felt the most excruciating splitting happen in my soul. Like I knew somewhere deep this wasn't supposed to happen. You shouldn't have to wrench your hand from your mamas when she's asking you to stay to go see your daddy. He was 3 curtains away. He was covered in sheets and blankets but it didn't cover the brokenness of his body. I'd never seen someone that injured. I saw his feet first and I knew they were his though one was wrapped in some kind of temporary cast and the other was bleeding from a cut. Then I saw his hand which reached to hold mine immediately. It was bloody too. He was wearing a neck brace and his face was completely red. The sight of his blue eyes piercing through his face of blood has haunted me for many nights. He was so happy to see me and told Robbie he didn't want me to worry. Robbie said, "Okay Bill, I'll worry for both of us." I held his hand until they came to take him to surgery. He kept asking about mom. A nurse said, "I want to do something" and a doctor said okay. She ran to mom's curtain and unhooked her from everything and rolled her into the hall where they were bringing dad. They put their beds side by side. They couldn't see each other because neither could turn their heads but they reached for each other's hands. They couldn't find them until I held them together. Mom said, "Oh Bill I love you precious man. We got hit by a car. Jesus be with you." Dad said, "I love you darlin. Jesus be with you. I know." And they continued that way for a time and then dad was gone. Before he left I signed so many papers for both of them. Consent for them to be treated. Consent for dad's surgery. They couldn't sign for themselves. I remember moving the pen across the pages thinking, "How is this down to me?" I am their emergency contact and I know how that happened. But how did it happen?