The fire and the change...
In the midst of what could have been severely life-altering changes for all of us, we were merely left with some soreness and stiffness and a decision about how to proceed—
Perhaps the greatest reset one can have is small, life-changing moments. Big ones are part of the ritual of all of our lives, but it’s the small ones—seemingly random, often referred to as “luck,” “kismet,” “fate,” “God’s will,” and other such monikers—which add perspective and that’s what happened to my wife, sister-in-law and me on Friday of last week.
Sue and I had an early flight to San Diego, Calif. scheduled for Friday morning, wheels up at 5:35 AM, and so needed to be at the airport by 4 AM. We were headed to meet friends who were there on business from their home in Austria, as well as Sue’s family—and were looking forward to a short weekend spent in good company. Sis-in-law offered to get up early and take us, and off we went.
At 3:15 AM, we were stopped at a red light, heading for Interstate 5 north up to Seatac Airport when a woman who was heavily under some kind of illicit substance’s influence, drove right into the back of Sis-in-law’s car at about 30 m.p.h. I don’t know physics, but I’ve watched enough driving films—and talked to enough people to know that a crash where one vehicle is stopped, the other is traveling at that rate of speed and hits the stopped vehicle—can be catastrophic depending on so many things from type and quality of car, to where exactly the car is struck to whether or not there are other cars nearby, etc.
So, first—hat tip and bow to Subaru. My Sis-in-law’s car, a Crosstrek, absorbed the majority of the blow and while the hit was hard and traumatic, we’re all alive to talk about it. Sue took the brunt of the blow as she was in the back seat. It took a few minutes to realize, but she was actually injured and we wound up in the hospital after the police arrived, and the officer asked her a few questions—and out came the paramedics. The other driver was hauled off in handcuffs because she rather spectacularly failed the field sobriety test given to her.
Sue was dizzy, nauseated and had pain from the base of her skull down her spine. Worrying as it was, perhaps the adrenaline and the fear allowed me to stay fairly present and once we got into triage at the hospital, the doc and staff took good care of her. Blood tests, full CT scan, some muscle relaxant and fluids—and the results were that she wasn’t permanently damaged.
At around 7:30 A.M., Sis-in-law drove to pick us up from the hospital, which in hindsight was a mistake. She too was traumatized and perhaps, still in shock. This was evident by her nerves as she was driving us home. The sound of the crash, the splitting metal, the screams and yells, coffee flying onto the windshield, and the thrum and rattle of loose parts flying—and a sort of replay of the images of what happened and how long it took the police to arrive (about 10 mins), all kept happening—for her, for Sue, for me—and since Sis was driving, that portion of it seems to be hitting her the most.
For my part, like Sis, I am stiff and sore, but it dissipates a bit during the day-and then returns at night. Sue’s pain, however, is fairly constant and we will probably have to seek follow up therapies for her, though that’s up to her.
We know very little about the offending driver. Communicating with her was not wise as she was inebriated to the point of her inability to string sentences together, and she was agitated. She was driving a late model expensive European sedan. The police report gave her name, and her insurance—but it turns out, they were inaccurate. Imagine that….(snark implied).
The crash was immediate, traumatic, full of adrenaline, fear, “what ifs?” and second guessing. Once stabilized, the phone calls to Southwest Airlines, attempts to reschedule—or would it be cancel? Sue was very sore and once the muscle relaxant took effect, she went to bed and stayed there until just before noon. We had to decide if we would rebook for later that afternoon, or perhaps cancel our trip. We rushed through options and with our trauma-addled brains, attempted to figure out what to do next. Did Sue feel like she could get on a plane at 3 in the afternoon—with a layover in Northern Calif. and then on to the South? Would we, perhaps, try to go the next day and salvage at least some time from what had happened? Was it better for her health just to stay put? The doc suggested that she was cleared to go if that’s what she chose, but also said, “it’s really up to how you feel. Medically, there’s no reason not to…”
Feelings count. They aren’t everything, of course, but they do count. And Sue’s initial reaction was that her heart wanted very much to go, and her body didn’t. We took one more step in our decision and said no to going that afternoon. Neither of us was really up to it, and we decided in addition not to put Laurie through the added trauma of mounting up and driving us again—this time in one of our cars, and not hers. Her car was “driveable,” but not for any length or distance.
The trauma portion then really hit. In the midst of what could have been severely life-altering changes for all of us, we were merely left with some soreness and stiffness and a decision about how to proceed—to vacation or not to vacation. That’s the “luck,” or “fate,” etc. part. None of us were having to make decisions about feeding tubes, or drugs. We didn’t have to consider calling family members to inform them of horrific news. No one of the three of us had to consider life alone, moving forward without a sister, without a wife, without a husband or brother-in-law. We didn’t have to have low-voiced conversations with doctors about vegetative states or whether or not to intervene should something go wrong during the day and night. We didn’t have to file wrongful death claims, call mortuaries and price coffins or crematory services. Morose to write it, yes—but all very real things that people sadly do on a daily basis. And we were spared that through a variety of random incidents that allowed us to consider waking up early Saturday morning and jetting off to San Diego.
So we were allowed by Grace, by Faith, by fate, by karma, what have you…to return to a discussion of what matters. We were allowed to steer the discussion to getting on the plane early Saturday morning and visiting loved ones from far way, spending time with family and enjoying each other’s company. We were given the chance to remember what’s really important—and to let those people know by our choice that they were at the top of our lists. For us, that is God-given and while it still may be random, it’s existence is divine—and there is divinity in it. It may not be that for you, and that’s OK. We can all accept that our images of origins of thoughts and feelings may differ—but that they are still a gift.
That gift is not lost on me, though I fear it will fade into memory as the daily grind once again takes hold. But for posterity, then—I want to say this—to write it here and on the clouds, on the stars and in the sky for all to see….
you matter
you are why we are here
you mean everything
you are a son, daughter, wife, husband, brother, sister, spouse, friend, loved one—
And we are here for you—-because that’s what we are about.
You are the fire.
And we can be the change.
Onward.
Beautifully put, Mark. Glad you are all ok! Thankful for your ability to be thoughtfully existential, and the writing through which you do so.