The first is an incident that took place about nine days after my second treatment. It was Saturday and I was off from work. That day my mind was focused on our granddaughter, Emma, who was having her fifteenth birthday up in Dallas. I was remembering the day she was born, reflecting on the beautiful young lady she has become, wondering how the festivities with her friends and family were going, and wishing we could be there.
The next day would be my and Rick's 41st anniversary, so I had spent much of the day also reflecting on forty-one years of memories and feeling glad that last year we had celebrated by visiting and taking pictures at all of our old homes and haunts here in town.
 |
| Remembering our 40th anniversary last year |
As late afternoon transitioned into early evening I was feeling pleased that I had mustered the energy to clean up the kitchen, do several loads of laundry and start dinner for Rick and our son, Paul, who had spent all day in the driveway working on Paul's truck.
Suddenly I became aware of shouting and commotion outside and stepped out into the open garage where I could see that Rick and Paul were both under the truck in the driveway and there was a group of teenaged neighbor boys standing wide-eyed in the yard. There was fear and confusion in the air and it made my blood run cold. I couldn't assess exactly what was happening, but there were no other adults in sight and all I knew was that we needed help quickly. I shouted to the boys, "Somebody please call 911!" and then ran into the house to find my phone to do exactly that myself.
I couldn't tell the poor dispatcher exactly what we needed. I wasn't sure if Rick and Paul were pinned, but I knew that if they could get out safely on their own they would have and that at the very least, the truck was unstable on the jack stands. The dispatcher sent a fire truck and ambulance and then wanted to keep me on the phone with him. I stepped back outside in time to tell him that my son was now out from under the truck and bleeding profusely from a deep gash in his forearm, but my husband was still under the truck. Paul was shouting directions to Rick and finally, Rick too, was out from under the truck. The dispatcher gave me instructions to wrap a towel as tightly as I could around Paul's arm and hold it above his heart then asked to speak to Rick to better assess the situation. The fire truck wasn't needed so they drove on past, but the ambulance arrived shortly and the paramedics took over and were just wonderful.
Rick and Paul both had lots of cuts and bruises, one of Rick's fingers looked crushed and Paul's arm was absolutely gory and obviously needed immediate medical attention. Rick said he could drive Paul to the emergency room, but then admitted that he felt lightheaded. Mainly to placate me, they agreed to go in the ambulance to the ER. I stayed home because I was at a point in my chemo cycle when I was too high maintenance to be of any help.
Rick stayed in touch with me by phone from the ER. I called and emailed family, friends and church to ask for prayer. Once Rick was sure he would be up to driving home, he called some good friends who came by the house and drove one of our vehicles to the hospital and left it parked in the ER parking lot. Rick's finger wasn't broken, but Paul's arm was gashed to the bone and required careful cleaning and stitching. They got home late that night. Paul was at high risk of infection and was on antibiotics for the next week. Thank God he didn't develop any infection and has full range of motion in his wrist and hand.
Later I got a better understanding of what had happened, although Rick or Paul could explain it much more accurately. They both spent moments under that truck that they thought might be their last on earth. The truck had slipped off the jack stands as they were trying to put the transmission back into it. The transmission had come down and cut into Paul's arm, pinning him. In fact, it was the transmission that kept the truck from coming all the way down on both of them. They got Paul free, but then Rick was pinned by one gloved finger. It was at that point that I came back outside, still on the phone with the 911 dispatcher.
Over the next few days, I went back and forth between thanking God for sparing their lives and preventing more serious injury, and freaking out over thoughts of what could have happened. It may sound like a cliche to say that God was in control, but some cliches are simply true and God was truly in control that day. And even if it had turned out much worse, that still wouldn't have changed the fact that God was ultimately in control.
As I thought about how helpless I had felt that day, it occurred to me that even if I had been in robust good health, I would have been just as helpless. I told Rick that I was glad that at least I was home and was able to call for help. He said, "Well, you're on chemo. Where else would you have been?" And that was the point exactly. If I had been healthy and feeling good on that beautiful Saturday off from work, I probably would not have been there.
No comments:
Post a Comment