It was a few days after Christmas, and we had some errands to run in Vancouver, as well as delivering a work load to my job site in NE Portland. My dad was driving in the red Prelude, and I was the passenger. A short ways behind us were my mother and her best friend Joy in Joy's pickup truck, as they too were headed to the Couve for the same errands we were. (The idea was to move some boxes of Joy's stuff from the garage of her uncle's house.) They started ahead of us, but somehow ended up behind; not sure how. Maybe they had to fuel up.
As we headed North on I-205, somewhere near the Killingsworth exit, it occurred to me that I'd like to text my friend Sarah to ask how she enjoyed her recent beach trip. I never got the chance to do that. As I was reaching for my cell phone (not looking out the car windows), we suddenly began to skid and swerve wildly as Dad was yelling something. My memory of all this is very sketchy. All I remember after the swerving around is that we were about to hit something, and I did have a moment to wonder how serious this was going to be, if it was going to be life-threatening. And somehow I knew we would roll, and in my perception that's just what we did, over to my side of the car, and then I blacked out.
Now here's the actual account, from my Dad and witnesses. As I was reaching for my phone, another driver apparently cut my dad off, trying to get into his lane. Dad tried to avoid hitting him, but lost control in the process. We hit the freeway's median, and actually bounced off of that, which propelled us towards the tires of a semi truck, which we did hit. Now this is where we say God was looking out for us because we could have so easily ended up underneath the semi truck instead of merely bumping into its tires. We're talking a second sooner, bouncing off that median and going under the truck probably would have killed us. And I guess we did not roll, only tilted on the two side wheels for a brief moment, according to witnesses. I think that because I had watched too much TV and movies, and I thought we would roll, that's just how I remembered it when I came to, later.
I woke up in the ambulance as they were asking my name and "Do you know where you are/what happened?" They cut off my shirt. I was pretty coherent for a moment, but then went out again. Woke up in the hospital. In the meantime my dad insisted on staying with the car because I didn't get paid unless I delivered my work to the work site, and my work was currently scattered all over the road. He did not realize that he had several small fractures himself and needed to be looked over.
When my mom and Joy passed us on the freeway, Mom did not realize it was us in trouble, but Joy had a terrible suspicion, keeping it to herself because she didn't want Mom to fall apart. Very soon after, Mom got a call from Dad and she nearly panicked on the spot, but Joy did a good job of calming her down, as they turned the car around and went back toward the accident site.
Meanwhile I was in the hospital getting scanned. I had an uncomfortable neck brace on; they were obviously worried about spinal damage. I was pretty alert at that point, and could easily answer all their questions. I should have been panicked and worried sick about my dad, and I don't know why I wasn't; I credit God with just giving me peace and helping me not to even think about that. I was informed I had a very large "goose egg" on my forehead (the size of a baseball, they would say later) and a gash. The technical word I was hearing was "hematoma", which is "a localized collection of blood outside the blood vessels,usually in liquid form within the tissue" [Wikipedia]. Scans revealed a subarachnoid hemorrhage, which is "bleeding into the subarachnoid space—the area between the arachnoid membrane and the pia mater surrounding the brain" [Wikipedia]. Also, my right arm was fairly bruised and uncomfortable. After I was scanned, they took me to the ICU, which became my home for the next day and half.
It is thought that my head injuries were caused by crashing into the passenger window, perhaps when the car was on its two side wheels, trying to roll, which would explain why I thought that it indeed did roll.
It was awhile before I saw Mom and Joy, then later my sister and brother-in-law Tim. I was informed that my brother Mark would be there the next day; he lives 2 hours away and has the sort of responsibilities (animals) that make it hard to leave on the spot. I was surprised to hear that my friends Dan and Sarah--those also happen to be the names of my closest cousins, oddly enough--came to see me and offer support, only to be told that they could not see me in the ICU. Hearing how upset and concerned they were about me really touched my heart. I thank God for letting me have such wonderful friends.
One friend who could in fact see me was our former associate Pastor Joseph, who is a wonderful friend and wonderful man who took quite a while praying for me and encouraging me. After that, he did the same to my family, including my dad. This meant so much to me, to us all.
I couldn't see my dad for quite a while because he had injuries of his own. Apparently, he was stubborn about getting checked though. Mom and Joy had to really twist his arm to get looked at by a doctor but when he finally relented, it was good because he was more banged up than he realized. But he is the kind of man who worries about everyone else first, and himself last. I am not surprised things went down that way.
During that day and the following day in ICU, I had a really wonderful nurse named Bridget who reminded me of an actress, but now I can't remember which actress she reminded me of. She was always lecturing me about food and drink choices...even though I could not have anything besides icky broth and Jello the first day. It was light-hearted ribbing, but I could tell she was really a health nut. I mean that in a good way. She actually made me think.
The one night I was in ICU, I was attended by a hot male nurse named Jason, who I don't think I instantly had a crush on (I had so many other things on my mind like trying to pee in a plastic jug while suffering from my long-term ailment of shy bladder), but in my memory, I have very warm feelings about him. Why can't there be a public nurse directory for this hospital? I want to drop him a note, maybe get a phone number as well.
I hated the thought of everyone having to leave at 10, even though I had Jason. But as it turned out I slept okay, in spite of constant interruptions to check my vital signs. The most annoying thing about being in ICU is they don't keep the privacy curtain shut unless you ask, and it's that much harder to piss in your plastic jug. The other really annoying thing was the noise. I mean, who knew hospitals were that loud? Even after they transferred me to a private room, it was still a racket in the halls outside, even in the middle of the night. I've had hospital stays before, with tonsils, kidney stones, and bleeding stomach ulcers, but I don't remember ever having such a feeling of being in a zoo.
The second day in the ICU was probably the hardest. At one point a doctor came in and smiled and shrugged, saying, "I don't know why you're in ICU", which was probably meant to make me feel better, but instead it just made me feel like I wasn't important. I felt ignored most of the time that day. And as I waited to be transferred to my private room, which took a LOT longer than any of us (me or my family or friends) had any idea, the privacy curtain was open, I kept paging for assistance and not getting any, and my bladder felt like it would explode. My family found out what room I was going to be in and waited for hours while I failed to show up. Finally, finally, finally, I was transferred, but that wait was bloody awful.
Then they transferred me to my private room and I have to say my mood got a lot better. The nurses there were really nice too but I can't remember their names. My family, including my sister-in-law Vickii, who was in town on business, showed up to greet me. They all helped me settle in and get comfortable before the night time waiting hours were finished. I got calls from my Grandpa Tom and my uncle Steve, which was great.
I had three friends come by to see me the next morning: Dan and David, roommates and friends from way back, came and stayed for like an hour. And my friend Holly who I've known since junior high came and stayed with me all day, until I was discharged. We ate hospital food together, and she bought me a bunch of stuff at the gift shop including a stuffed giraffe which I eventually named Enid.
Getting discharged turned out to be a fairly simple procedure. Dad had already been released the previous day with a cane which he has since, for the most part, not used. We thought he might get some braces for his back, but he didn't. As with him, I had to walk around the halls with a nurse to make sure I was not overly dizzy or disoriented. The pain in my head had died down quite a bit. I had passed all the mental acrobatics that they make head trauma victims do, like count back from 100 by 7s...You know, 100, 93, 86, etc...So Holly left as family arrived to take me home, and then I went home. It was New Year's Eve, and it felt so important to me to be home that night, except that I could not drink, and in fact I really did not feel like doing much at all. My original plans for that night did not come to fruition. We watched a Hugh Grant movie and had cheese fondue, a family tradition (the fondue, not Hugh Grant).
For some reason, I didn't come away with any prescriptions and over the next several days, my pain flared up quite badly. I ended up having to use ice packs. I also found out that my normal routine of sleeping flat made it worse, and so I learned to prop my head up, which is something I've never liked to do. Eventually I saw a doctor and got some pills, but there were several days of substantial discomfort. At this point now, as I write this, when I feel pain up there, I can't tell if it's just a regular headache, because there is a history of chronic headaches. And I usually take aspirin, but I can't right now in recovery because it's a blood thinner. As I write this, there is still an ugly bump on my head.
The other day, I went back to the hospital about said bump and a surgery was scheduled to drain the icky substance inside, thus getting rid of the bump. It was supposed to happen today, but there were problems with my insurance. More later as the saga continues...
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