At the Hospital

Getting to the hospital, we surveyed what we might need inside and wished we hadn't just cleaned out the car. The pavement was hot in socks, and there was a sweaty musk in my bike shorts and gear. The phone call came right as the group ride back was starting on bike-to-work Monday. Cleats were tossed aside by the bike and all attention was set to getting to the hospital.

His dad arrived first and was with him in the imaging room getting a CT scan. Grandpa arrived next, hugging my other two children close and then saying a prayer while we waited. Finally, the doors opened and the ER nurse called our family back to the room.

My sweet baby boy writhed in agony. We all stared at him trying to decide who was in more shock, him or us. The only comfort I could provide was consent to treat. He swelled in pain and retreated under narcotic effect. The pain came in ripples and tidal waves.  He would pant or breath hold and we knew it was rough, but he was on top of it. Other times, he would lay back and disappear, floating just above himself, discovering savasana. 

Every move - ice chips, IV, pillow fluff - caused pain. A second scan for head and neck injury meant he had to keep the neck brace in place. This is really painful when your collarbone is shattered. Hours later, they splinted his leg, broken in three places, and sent us home.

Getting to the car was a 6-person effort. Every inch was a trick to see what was possibly mobile, since all of his injuries were to the one side. Eventually, we made it and he dozed off in the late night, never having eaten dinner or allowed to drink water. Getting to the house, he vomited all over his feet, the driveway, and me. 

He was broken apart, but alive.