The Phone Call
The kids hovered around the television waiting. The school closings scrolled across the bottom of the television screen and finally their school was listed! Whooo hoo, it's a SNOW DAY! Our yard was transformed into a winter wonderland and snow continued to fall.
We spent the morning baking cookies and by afternoon it was warm enough to go sledding. A group of teens were organizing a group sledding outing at the tallest hill in the city. My oldest son, a senior in high school, was itching to meet his friends and he wanted to drive. My first instinct was no way, too slick and too inexperienced. But I gave my husband a quick phone call. He gave me some reassurance, and we decided to let him go. Of course he didn't leave the driveway before I gave all my winter driving tips. My last words to him were to text me when he got there.
As he took off, I began to worry. Then worry and check the phone. What had I done? Was I crazy to let him drive on these snow packed roads? It was only three miles, but still...
The rest of us busied ourselves getting geared up for our own sledding adventure in the backyard. The neighbors arrived and soon our hill was filled with squeals of delight as sleds whizzed down the snowy trails. After what seemed like eternity, my phone buzzed with a text saying he had arrived. Immediately, relief washed over me and I joined the fun.
Not more than five minutes later, my cell phone rang.
"This is fire and rescue," a voice said. "We are here with your son."
In my head, nothing registered. Why would they be with him, he just texted and was fine. Are they needing a donation? Why are they calling me?
"Your son has been in a sledding accident," the voice continued. "We will be transporting him to the hospital. You can meet us there."
My head was filled with questions, but the connection was lost. I grabbed my keys and my friend took over the sledding supervision. I drove as quickly as conditions allowed and I headed towards the hospital. Nearly there, the phone rang again.
"Ma'am, this is the captain of the fire and rescue squad, your son has sustained a traumatic injury, we are transporting him to the trauma center."
"Can he breathe?," I asked.
"Yes, we are transporting now. We will see you in the ER," he said.
I took in this information while turning the van toward the trauma center. My son was hurt badly and I wasn't there to comfort him. I felt so many feelings at once: sick, sad, overwhelmed, frustrated, helpless, and mad, to name a few. I was mad at myself for letting him go in the first place. How could this have happened? I knew I had to get a grip on myself and focus on driving.
The roads were slippery, traffic was picking up, and the snow was coming down again. I felt tears welling in my eyes and I was so aware of how fiercely I love my son. Alone in the solitude of the van I was also aware of God's presence and, in the midst of all this, felt a sense of peace. I also was comforted knowing my son was not alone either. I knew that whatever the outcome would be, I would have the strength to face it.
I beat everyone to the hospital, the ambulance and my husband. When he arrived on the stretcher, immobilized on a back board, in a neck brace, with his clothes cut off, it took my breath away. I wanted to hug him, but couldn't. He was so pale, hurt, and scared. I wanted to make it all better like when he was a little boy with a scraped knee, but couldn't fix this. I could just hold his hand and tell him I loved him.
The attending said, "Let's take him to x-ray to see what bones are broken and if we are dealing with a spinal cord injury."
They whisked him away. Alone in the room, my husband and I were left with our thoughts. "What bones are broken," echoed in my head. He did not say, IF there is a bone broken, rather which bones are broken. Multiple breaks. What was broken? Spinal cord injury? All we could do was wait.
As the room filled again with the neuro, trauma, and ortho doctors, they wheeled him back and went over the x-ray results. Six broken bones: three ribs, two spinal bones (the t7 and t8 of the transverse processes), a broken scapula (in two places), a punctured lung, and both lungs bruised. The good news was that he missed his spinal cord by 1/4 of an inch! It was not a spinal cord injury. He will need to stay in intensive care for a few days, but he will fully recover.
"Prayers are answered," I said softly, more to myself than anyone.
A doctor next to me turned and said,"These broken bones happened long before we took him to x-ray and you started praying. The outcome was already determined before we looked at the results."
I replied, "You are so wrong. You see, I began praying for him moments before he left the driveway, well before this accident occurred. God was with him as He always has been. My prayers WERE answered today."
We spent the morning baking cookies and by afternoon it was warm enough to go sledding. A group of teens were organizing a group sledding outing at the tallest hill in the city. My oldest son, a senior in high school, was itching to meet his friends and he wanted to drive. My first instinct was no way, too slick and too inexperienced. But I gave my husband a quick phone call. He gave me some reassurance, and we decided to let him go. Of course he didn't leave the driveway before I gave all my winter driving tips. My last words to him were to text me when he got there.
As he took off, I began to worry. Then worry and check the phone. What had I done? Was I crazy to let him drive on these snow packed roads? It was only three miles, but still...
The rest of us busied ourselves getting geared up for our own sledding adventure in the backyard. The neighbors arrived and soon our hill was filled with squeals of delight as sleds whizzed down the snowy trails. After what seemed like eternity, my phone buzzed with a text saying he had arrived. Immediately, relief washed over me and I joined the fun.
Not more than five minutes later, my cell phone rang.
"This is fire and rescue," a voice said. "We are here with your son."
In my head, nothing registered. Why would they be with him, he just texted and was fine. Are they needing a donation? Why are they calling me?
"Your son has been in a sledding accident," the voice continued. "We will be transporting him to the hospital. You can meet us there."
My head was filled with questions, but the connection was lost. I grabbed my keys and my friend took over the sledding supervision. I drove as quickly as conditions allowed and I headed towards the hospital. Nearly there, the phone rang again.
"Ma'am, this is the captain of the fire and rescue squad, your son has sustained a traumatic injury, we are transporting him to the trauma center."
"Can he breathe?," I asked.
"Yes, we are transporting now. We will see you in the ER," he said.
I took in this information while turning the van toward the trauma center. My son was hurt badly and I wasn't there to comfort him. I felt so many feelings at once: sick, sad, overwhelmed, frustrated, helpless, and mad, to name a few. I was mad at myself for letting him go in the first place. How could this have happened? I knew I had to get a grip on myself and focus on driving.
The roads were slippery, traffic was picking up, and the snow was coming down again. I felt tears welling in my eyes and I was so aware of how fiercely I love my son. Alone in the solitude of the van I was also aware of God's presence and, in the midst of all this, felt a sense of peace. I also was comforted knowing my son was not alone either. I knew that whatever the outcome would be, I would have the strength to face it.
I beat everyone to the hospital, the ambulance and my husband. When he arrived on the stretcher, immobilized on a back board, in a neck brace, with his clothes cut off, it took my breath away. I wanted to hug him, but couldn't. He was so pale, hurt, and scared. I wanted to make it all better like when he was a little boy with a scraped knee, but couldn't fix this. I could just hold his hand and tell him I loved him.
The attending said, "Let's take him to x-ray to see what bones are broken and if we are dealing with a spinal cord injury."
They whisked him away. Alone in the room, my husband and I were left with our thoughts. "What bones are broken," echoed in my head. He did not say, IF there is a bone broken, rather which bones are broken. Multiple breaks. What was broken? Spinal cord injury? All we could do was wait.
As the room filled again with the neuro, trauma, and ortho doctors, they wheeled him back and went over the x-ray results. Six broken bones: three ribs, two spinal bones (the t7 and t8 of the transverse processes), a broken scapula (in two places), a punctured lung, and both lungs bruised. The good news was that he missed his spinal cord by 1/4 of an inch! It was not a spinal cord injury. He will need to stay in intensive care for a few days, but he will fully recover.
"Prayers are answered," I said softly, more to myself than anyone.
A doctor next to me turned and said,"These broken bones happened long before we took him to x-ray and you started praying. The outcome was already determined before we looked at the results."
I replied, "You are so wrong. You see, I began praying for him moments before he left the driveway, well before this accident occurred. God was with him as He always has been. My prayers WERE answered today."
Ann, this will probably have been the worst day in your life! You relate so well what a parent experiences in worrying about one's child's safety, in letting go, in dealing with crisis, and in finding energy and strength in trial for those who believe in God's ever caring love and protection. Thank you for sharing.
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