Counting our blessings

On Friday, I went to lunch about the same time as one of my female co-workers ("Mary") and one of my male co-workers ("John"). We didn't go to eat together, we just left within a few minutes of each other and thus we were due back within a few minutes of each other, obviously.

I came back to work on Dunkirk Avenue, which runs on one side of a high railroad embankment (you can't see over it). I found out later that Mary and John came back on Academy Street, which runs on the other side of the same embankment. As I was nearing the driveway to work, I heard a bunch of sirens coming in my direction. Other than checking to see if there were any emergency vehicles behind me that I needed to pull over for, I didn't think anything of it.

I sat down at my desk and my phone rang about five minutes later. It was John, calling to say that Mary had had an accident. I literally gasped when he told me that Mary had been driving along and she'd hit a child on a motorbike. As we found out later, the boy (who's about 12 years old) was visiting a friend up the street who had a mini motorbike--it looked like a mini dirtbike. The friend said the boy could try the motorbike, as long as he didn't go too far from the house.

The boy drove down the street and down a hill, and whether because of inexperience or panic, he flew right through a stop sign and into Mary's car. He hit on the front driver side corner and then went under the car. Mary says she doesn't remember seeing him hit the car, she just heard the screeching of tires and then she was stopping her car after running over him with both wheels on the driver's side. She got out and called 911. The boy wasn't wearing a helmet, and he was breathing in big gasps but unconscious.

A police officer arrived and then John drove up, on his own way back to work, to see someone lying in the street and Mary's car in the middle of the street. As the volunteer EMTs from our community pulled up, he called me to tell what was going on. The medical evac helicopter arrived shortly afterwards, as I called Mary's emergency contact, her mom. Thank god she was home. I told her that Mary was OK but very shaken and where the accident was.

Then I drove there myself; it's only about three blocks away. When I pulled up, the boy's mom (or so it seemed) was standing on one corner crying, being comforted by some other people. The flight surgeon from the helicopter, the flight nurse, and a number of EMTs were all working on the boy in the middle of the street. Several firefighters were standing around, holding screening cloths from the spectators and shading the workers from the hot sun.

John was standing on another corner and Mary was in the front seat of a police car, writing out what happened. She seemed OK, in shock obviously. She got out and I told her I had called her mom. I asked if she wanted me to call her husband and she couldn't decide. It was not a good time for me to be asking anything of her. Fortunately, her mom arrived just then. The police officer said she could leave, to head to the police station, instead of watching and waiting until they loaded the boy on the helicopter. They probably worked on him for over 1/2 hour in the middle of the street until he was stable enough to be transported. I happen to know, by the way, that the going rate for these helicopter rides is $12,000 each. Incredible lifesaving flights.

After Mary left with her mom, I didn't want to stay and stare at the scene in the street. John had to talk to the police more, since he'd been among the first on the scene, so I went back to work. And tried to concentrate since I was worried about Mary, and of course the boy, and I couldn't stop thinking of how easily it could have been me.

Over the weekend, I watched the TV and the newspaper for any news; there was none. I tried to make myself feel better by thinking that if the boy had died, it certainly would have been in the news. This morning, Mary was back at work. She'd been contacted by the family of the boy, who told her they were OK with her checking to see how he was doing.

His injuries? Skull fracture, broken jaw, broken pelvis, broken femur, and messed up foot, as well as other lesser injuries. He finally woke up on Saturday morning, though I would think they'll keep him heavily sedated until his brain stops swelling and they can figure out if he's going to have any brain damage. I wonder if things would have been better if he'd had a helmet on. The car had to have gone over his lower body. It seems that he's eventually, one day, going to be OK. I think Mary's going to be OK too. She has a strong faith and I know that's helping her.

It happened in an instant. Count your blessings.