I was doing what I normally do late in the evening: watching TV, keeping an eye on facebook, and chatting back and forth with my husband from time to time, when I heard her voice from the corner of the room. Oh, she's home early from her night out with friends, I thought. Slowly, I turned my attention away from my TV program to what she was saying, because her tone of voice sounded ... I dunno ... "off."
My instincts were correct. She was crying softly. Her boyfriend was wiping her tears from her face. His arm was around her.
I caught something she said about an accident with a car as she talked to her sister. At first, I thought that she was the one who'd been in an accident. (Instant adrenaline. Whoa Nellie, she's standing right there; she's fine.) Then I heard her refer to "him" and "his family" - and understood that it was one of her friends who'd been in the accident. She and her boyfriend had come upon the accident while they were out - stopped because they recognized the vehicle - and saw their injured friend, and spoke with the paramedics as they worked. Or with the patient - I wasn't clear on that part. My daughter was understandably shaken; they both were as they stood there explaining the scene to us.
The young man wasn't killed, but could very well have been, given the circumstances of the accident: the lady driving the car and turning left didn't see him on his motorbike even though he was right in front of her and HE had the right of way because he was going straight ahead. Her car struck him on his left side and sent him flying - the impact dislocated his left hip (OUCH), gashed his left thigh deeply, missing his femoral artery by a few inches, and (at this point) the doctors are even thinking he might have gotten whiplash to his neck when he landed on the pavement. The bike was totaled, of course. They resolved the hip dislocation last evening (ouch AGAIN), and then took him to surgery to repair the damage to his thigh muscle. He's still in hospital, and called them this morning when he awoke. And I'm sure that in another hour, his friends (including my daughter) will all be by his side during visiting hours until the hospital personnel say that visiting hours are over and it's time to go home.
After she and her boyfriend went to another part of the house last night to man the phones and arrange overnight visits and such, my thoughts dwelt on that young man and his family. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I would feel if it was MY kid laying on a gurney, having to have his hip snapped back into its socket, and then lined up for surgery - and looking at months of physiotherapy to recover and regain range of motion again. I began to pray for him and his family ... and to thank God intensely for the fact that it WASN'T my kid in the hospital.
Sometimes all it takes is a tragedy (or a near-tragedy) not even happening to us, but happening that close to home, for us to realize just how much we take for granted on a daily basis.
My husband and I were pretty somber when we went to bed last night. And we talked about how we might complain about this behavior and that behavior, but when push comes to shove, we'd be right there beside our youngsters if either one of them needed us. And we started counting our blessings - something we hadn't been doing for a while: long overdue, in fact.
The experience being that "close to home" made us incredibly grateful, mostly that:
- the young man was NOT killed.
- it wasn't our kid(s) who got hurt. (I know, selfish, but it is what it is...)
- our daughter cared that much about her friends that she was willing to drop everything she was planning to do, in order to be there for them.
- she trusted us enough to tell us what was happening and to be real in front of us without fear of being judged.
If more people had friends like her, if more people WERE friends like her, perhaps the world wouldn't be in the mess it is in right now. I'm so proud of the way she has handled this whole thing: feeling what she is feeling, showing her concern, and making herself available to meet whatever need existed. And of how she is following up with her presence, to show her support and her love.
I'm so glad SHE's close to home, too.
My instincts were correct. She was crying softly. Her boyfriend was wiping her tears from her face. His arm was around her.
I caught something she said about an accident with a car as she talked to her sister. At first, I thought that she was the one who'd been in an accident. (Instant adrenaline. Whoa Nellie, she's standing right there; she's fine.) Then I heard her refer to "him" and "his family" - and understood that it was one of her friends who'd been in the accident. She and her boyfriend had come upon the accident while they were out - stopped because they recognized the vehicle - and saw their injured friend, and spoke with the paramedics as they worked. Or with the patient - I wasn't clear on that part. My daughter was understandably shaken; they both were as they stood there explaining the scene to us.
The young man wasn't killed, but could very well have been, given the circumstances of the accident: the lady driving the car and turning left didn't see him on his motorbike even though he was right in front of her and HE had the right of way because he was going straight ahead. Her car struck him on his left side and sent him flying - the impact dislocated his left hip (OUCH), gashed his left thigh deeply, missing his femoral artery by a few inches, and (at this point) the doctors are even thinking he might have gotten whiplash to his neck when he landed on the pavement. The bike was totaled, of course. They resolved the hip dislocation last evening (ouch AGAIN), and then took him to surgery to repair the damage to his thigh muscle. He's still in hospital, and called them this morning when he awoke. And I'm sure that in another hour, his friends (including my daughter) will all be by his side during visiting hours until the hospital personnel say that visiting hours are over and it's time to go home.
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| Got this photo HERE |
After she and her boyfriend went to another part of the house last night to man the phones and arrange overnight visits and such, my thoughts dwelt on that young man and his family. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I would feel if it was MY kid laying on a gurney, having to have his hip snapped back into its socket, and then lined up for surgery - and looking at months of physiotherapy to recover and regain range of motion again. I began to pray for him and his family ... and to thank God intensely for the fact that it WASN'T my kid in the hospital.
Sometimes all it takes is a tragedy (or a near-tragedy) not even happening to us, but happening that close to home, for us to realize just how much we take for granted on a daily basis.
My husband and I were pretty somber when we went to bed last night. And we talked about how we might complain about this behavior and that behavior, but when push comes to shove, we'd be right there beside our youngsters if either one of them needed us. And we started counting our blessings - something we hadn't been doing for a while: long overdue, in fact.
The experience being that "close to home" made us incredibly grateful, mostly that:
- the young man was NOT killed.
- it wasn't our kid(s) who got hurt. (I know, selfish, but it is what it is...)
- our daughter cared that much about her friends that she was willing to drop everything she was planning to do, in order to be there for them.
- she trusted us enough to tell us what was happening and to be real in front of us without fear of being judged.
If more people had friends like her, if more people WERE friends like her, perhaps the world wouldn't be in the mess it is in right now. I'm so proud of the way she has handled this whole thing: feeling what she is feeling, showing her concern, and making herself available to meet whatever need existed. And of how she is following up with her presence, to show her support and her love.
I'm so glad SHE's close to home, too.
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