Close to Home

Last night, I curled up with a book next to a window and noticed the flash-flash-flashing lights of a cop car.  It's not uncommon to see people being pulled over on the road behind our house, where people commonly speed.  But something was different with this one; I watched as the cop took a flashlight and pointed it to the ground, watching the driver wobble one unsteady foot in front of the other.  The driver was eventually walked back into the cop car, and minutes later I heard the tow truck taking the drunk's car away.

It has been about two months since Michael and Oliver were hit by a drunk driver on this same road, close to home.  Charlie and I were at home when my phone rang, and Michael, who had just picked Oliver up from daycare, started by saying, "we're okay, but..."

Every time Michael takes a little longer in getting home, I can't help but think the worst.  Maybe it's because I work in hospice and at times, the world seems a little darker through my lenses.  Maybe it's my over-sensitive nature, paired with a tendency to worry beyond what is good for me.  Whatever it is, it sends my thoughts to just skirt the idea... what if something horrible has happened.  What if there was an accident.  And that day, there was. 

About two miles from home, Michael was stopped at a 4-way stop when a drunk driver slammed into them at 45 miles per hour, with no attempt to slow down.  The airbag deployed, the windshield shattered over our sweet Ollie, and the side where Charlie might have been was smashed in like a popcan. Michael and Oliver cried out for a couple of seconds, then recovered enough for Michael to step out of the car and watch the drunk driver stumble out of her car without injury. 

Paramedics arrived within minutes and gently told Oliver that they were going to get him out of the car.  Oliver simply and quietly said, "okay," and they reached in for him, cutting their own hands from the shattered glass.  Michael and Ollie got checked out in the ambulance for the next hour, where Michael placed his call to me. 

Helpless, I crumpled up on the living room floor and sobbed.

Michael's sister brought them home to me.  Michael and I held each other and cried, and Oliver bounced around the house exited to show me a new stuffed animal bird the EMTs let him pick out in the ambulance. Michael gingerly made his way to painfully sit down on the couch, trying hard not to move, and gave me instructions.  The EMTs wanted me to take Oliver's clothes off as soon as he got home, and then give him a careful bath as there may be micorshards of glass over his body.

I was sick to my stomach as I followed the orders, though Oliver was happy to play in the bathtub.  He agreed with me that "that must have been scary," but then was quick to turn his attention to his squirt toys.  He didn't sustain a single scratch, and didn't have a single nightmare.  He never mentioned the accident except to show me his new birdie from the ambulance. 

Michael had severe whiplash, with damage to his neck, shoulders and back.  He was off of work for several days; he has only recently finished physical therapy, and has graduated from daily to three-times-weekly chiropractic adjustments.

The next day, I took over the daycare drop-off and pick-up duties; which meant that less than 16 hours after the accident, I found myself at that four-way intersection.  I saw the glass and debris on the side of the road, no doubt from my now-totaled car.  And then I looked in my rear view mirror, at my singing, smiling son. 

Let me tell you about all of the little miracles that lined up in place to produce one big one that day.

1) The accident happened in daylight, during rush hour which meant plenty of witnesses.  There was a car in front of Michael's, and the driver of that vehicle was- are you ready for this?- an off-duty cop.  The drunk driver admitted fault at the scene and was arrested with a blood alcohol level "well above the limit."  Which all meant that we had next to no troubles with insurance claims.

2) Michael was driving my car, my Rav4, a mid-sized SUV, because I was home on maternity leave.  Had he been driving his own tiny hatchback car as usual, I am confident that Oliver and Michael would not have been okay. 

3) Charlie was home with me. "His" side of the car was smashed in...but he was home safe.

4) The accident took place one mile from the police and fire department, which allowed the emergency responders to show up almost immediately.

5) It was cold, so Oliver was wearing a hat and winter jacket underneath the car seat restraints.  The pediatrician told us that this created a shell, protecting him from the windshield that shattered over him.

All to add up to the fact that my family survived the crash, with no permanent injuries.  The fact that the driver was that drunk at 5pm on a weekday helps me understand that she had to be very ill with her alcohol problem, which in a way makes it easier to forgive her.  I can blame some of this on her disease versus just a person who made a random bad decision.  That's not to say that I'm not angry, I am; I'm angry, and sad, and the accident caused a lot of emotional and physical distress for my family.  But most of all I feel threatened. Half of my family was almost taken from me in one of the ways I fear the most.  I can hardly go there, to think about Michael shoved into the airbag, to think of my sweet little Oliver with glass all over him.  How dare she do that to my family. 

Tonight I learned that a classmate of mine from St Olaf was killed by a drunk driver.  Sara and her husband were driving to dinner, celebrating Sara's promotion at work, when the drunk driver crossed the median and hit them head-on.  Sara had been trying to recover in the hospital for the past month, and on Tuesday, died from her injuries.  Her husband Chris is still working hard to recover in a rehab facility, and is now facing life without his wife.  The drunk driver died soon after the accident, leaving behind a young son.

My prayers continue to be lifted up for thanksgiving for God's provision for our family, but are now also lifted in grief over Sara's death, hope and sympathy for her husband Chris, and the little boy of the drunk driver.  Tonight I am very sad, and with this news along with watching last night's scene out my window, I feel even more threatened and protective of my family.

Sara read my blog.  Updates and links for donating funds have been set up for Sara and Chris at http://tiedemanrecoveryfund.com/.  Hug your loved ones close today, and everyday.