May you never get that call. - Me
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This has nothing at all to do with that crisp September morning ten years ago.
September 10, 2011, a crisp September afternoon in AP,about 3pm. Just back from a brief family outing, and the boys have just left for a bike ride with a friend. A nap beckons.
The phone rings, and Bride answers. Son #1 is explaining to her that Son #2 has just been hit by a motorist, and that he is badly hurt. I am getting the gist of this, and as she hangs up, we're both racing for the door. Moments later, we arrive on the scene, and are advised by a friend in the fire department that he's conscious, and is heading to the hospital. Bride goes in the ambulance, Son #1 in the Jeep with me.
The stuff that goes through your head at times like these is staggering. The kid's been thrown 20-30 feet across the road by the impact, and as we go into the ER, he's already been admitted, and is being examined. The injuries are significant; a broken left ankle, left collarbone, right pelvis, and scrapes and cuts all over the place. He's made stable, and is lucid throughout. It is soon explained to us, however, that the extent of his trauma is such that he'll be moved from the local hospital to Albany Medical Center, whose facilities are much better suited to his type of injuries.
Long story short, we spend six days at Albany Med, followed by seven more at Sunnyview Rehab Center, before we get to bring him home September 23. He's in a wheelchair, owing to the hip-length cast on the left leg, and while he's thoroughly miserable about that, we are all by now aware he'll recovery fully over time. That we as a family have been extraordinarily lucky is manifest.
I thought I knew everything about this kid. I was wrong; I learned his strength of character, his toughness, and his sense of humor were far greater than I had thought. His first few days at Albany Med were very painful for him, and required some pretty heavy-duty medication. About day 4 there, the kid sharing the room with him had been operated on for something or another, and returns to the room just FLYING on pain meds. He's loud, and he's pretty silly. My kid simply looks at me, and whispers, "I'll have what he's having..."
The point of all of this? Damned if I know, but that I know I am so lucky, and so grateful to have him back. When I think of what could have been, I just shudder.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
POSTSCRIPT: November 4, 2011. The casts are off, the shoulder allows the use of crutches now, and Son #2 returns to school in three days. God has truly been good.
