Chapter 13

How could anyone guess my 'deathbed' comment might almost come true?

It's late Monday morning. The forms and rebar are set and cement trucks are lining up on the road ready to start pouring the pool walls. I've been moving dirt with the bobcat all morning and stop to watch the activities for a bit. I pull the little machine up to the edge of the excavation and crawl out of the cage, standing on the scoop to get a better view. There's about an eighteen-inch gap between the edge of the excavation and the plywood forms.

I'm thinking about the unforgettable weekend I just spent with Sally. As I'm watching the concrete ooze into the forms, the wall of the excavation just gives way underneath me. I feel myself dropping and jump to grab the top of the form, just barely catching it when I'm pinned against it by something big and heavy. I know something is very wrong because I hear and feel something inside me CRUNCH! The pain hasn't set in yet but I can't move and I feel like I'm about to pass out.

I hear shouting all around me and hands are grabbing hold of my arms. Someone is telling me to hang on, that I'll be OK and someone is screaming for someone else to call 911. First an ache and then unbelievable bolts of sharp pain tell me something very bad is wrong inside me.

Time seems to have slowed down. I hear sirens coming from town. My boss tells me they'll pull the bobcat off me when the paramedics are on scene. The last thing I remember is this huge weight being lifted off me and thinking, 'I'm too young to die'. That's when everything goes dark.

When I open my eyes, I'm someplace I don't recognize; white ceiling, some guy I don't know leaning over me and shining a bright light in my eyes. I turn my head and there's Dad beside my bed. He smiles at me and touches my face with his hand. He looks so tired.

"Hey, Randy," he says, "Welcome back!" He wipes a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand.

I remember thinking, 'What the hell is he talking about? Welcome back from where?'

I gradually become aware that I'm in a hospital bed surrounded by electronics, IV tubes in my arms and people fussing over me. I have this dull ache in my lower back and I try to shift to a more comfortable position but I can't. I'm so weak it takes a supreme effort to lift my head to see why. I'm in a plaster cast from my lower chest to below my knees. There's an attached bar spreading my legs out in a Y-shape and a towel draped over my crotch.

I look back at Dad and ask, "What's all this about? What happened to me?" My throat hurts and I can only manage a whisper.

"You've had an accident, Son. The bobcat pinned you against the pool wall and messed up your pelvis."

"No shit?" Then I start to remember. "Oh yeah. The ground gave way under me and I jumped for the wall. Something big hit me from the back but I didn't know what it was."

I look back at my plaster-clad body and ask, "Jeez, how long am I going to have to wear this thing? And why is my throat so sore?"

An older man with a stethoscope hanging around his neck steps into my view and says, "I'm afraid we're looking at a few weeks minimum, Randy. I've spent hours putting you back together and I don't want you messing up all my hard work. As for your throat, you've had a breathing tube in it for three days. We only took it out about an hour ago." He's smiling but I can see the concern on his face.

"So can you tell me about it? What all happened to my insides?"

"Sure, if you feel up to it. But first, I want you to close your eyes and tell me where I'm touching you."

I follow his direction. "OK, you're touching my left big toe. Right toe." I grin and joke, "I don't think we know each other that well," when I feel him touch my penis.

He laughs and says, "In your dreams, kid!"

He pulls up a chair next to Dad and gives me the whole story. My pelvis was shattered when the bobcat squashed me against the wall. Apparently, there was a lot of bleeding inside and I passed out when they released the pressure by lifting the machine off me. When I got to the hospital, they had to pump a lot of blood into me to keep me alive. The surgical repair was too big a job for the Community Hospital so they flew me by chopper to the trauma center. The first operation was to fix my insides and stop the bleeding. The next day, after they decided I was stable enough, they went back in and put my pelvis back together with plates and screws.

"Damn, Dad! It sounds a lot like the kinds of injuries you had when you fell off the roof." Then I get this sinking feeling in my chest.

I look at the Doc and croak, "Oh fuck! Am I going to be in a wheelchair?"

Dr. Johansen is very direct but careful as he explains, "Well, we don't know that, Randy, and we won't know for sure until you're out of this cast. So far, I'm encouraged and you should be too since you seem to have good sensation below the injury. The fact that you can wiggle your toes and flex your ankles is a good sign. We'll take out your catheter today to check your bladder control. I've been talking to your Dad and the injuries to the sacral spine are very similar to his but there's no way we can know for sure how much damage, if any, was done to the nerves. I'm sorry, I wish I could give you more assurance than that but I can't. We'll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, don't let yourself get into a blue funk imagining the worst, OK?"

A voice entering the room says, "If he starts getting all mopey, I'll just slap him around a little bit." Rose Ann leans over me and gives me a big kiss. "Jesus, Baby, you scared the shit out of all of us!"

Later that day, a nurse comes in and wakes me up to remove the catheter. I definitely feel that. It takes three or four hours to accumulate enough pee to be sure but everybody seems to be happy when I empty my bladder into the cold duck.

Dad's staying at a nearby motel and leaves before dinner to get some rest. The nurse tells me he's hardly left my bedside since I came out of surgery. As he wheels out the door, Sally steps in. I hold out my arms and she starts crying as she gives a big hug.

"Hey, Hon! The worst is over!"

"I know, Randy. It's just that we were afraid we were going to lose you!"

"Well, you're not. Find me some mouthwash, will you? I want a big kiss and I bet my breath is like from hell."

She searches in the bedside stand and finds a little bottle of Listerine. I can't believe it but her kiss actually stirs up my dick. More good news! She stays with me through my meal of some kind of soft stuff that doesn't taste any better than it looks.

The nurse tells me that, since there wasn't any damage to my gut, I'll be getting a regular diet in the next day or so. I guess that's when I'll learn if I can poop like I'm supposed to. The image that stirs up as I lie there in a spika cast isn't pleasant but at least my arms work like they're supposed to so I can at least wipe myself. There's something basically humiliating about bedpans.