Chapter 8

It was about twenty minutes later when I received the call. I was informed that my wife had been in an accident and they were taking her to United Hospital. I hung up the phone and rushed to my car. A million different thoughts ran through my head. Scenario after scenario flashed through my mind. I probably violated several traffic laws, in my rush to get to the hospital. Fortunately for me, it was later in the evening, so the traffic wasn't that bad.

I rushed through the emergency door and spoke with the nurse at the desk. She informed me that my wife had just arrived and they had immediately taken her into surgery. She promised me that she would have the doctor speak with me as soon as more information became available.

I found a seat in the waiting room and tried to collect my thoughts. I hate hospitals and try to avoid them at all costs. The hospital I was in was trying hard to make you feel comfortable, but I still didn't want to be there.

It's such a different environment from nature. Almost everything is unnatural. Hospitals are man-made buildings filled with man-made machines, chemicals, and tools. Bright lights and sterile situations are the norm. People dress in hospital clothing and walk around attached to tanks and pouches. Bodies are covered in gowns; except for the peep hole in back. People watch your every move. And the air has that certain smell. It's not a natural smell.

I called my wife's parents and told them what had happened. I said I would give them more information as it became available. Her mother told me that they would be flying in as soon as they could make the arrangements. I could hear the shock and sadness in her voice.

A highway patrolman found me and provided me with some additional information. The occupant of the other vehicle had died at the scene. When the truck was lifted off my wife's vehicle, they had expected to find the driver dead or dying. No one had expected a person could survive a flattened wreckage like the one before them.

When they had finally removed enough of the top of the car so that they could see the driver, they were completely surprised to find her still breathing. Evidently she had found just enough room to keep from being crushed. Everyone that was involved in the extraction had said that it was a miracle.

After several hours, one of the doctors finally came out to speak with me. I was told that she was in critical condition. Several bones had been broken and she had extensive bruising. The most immediate concern was that she was in a coma. Her doctor said that it might have been caused by some trauma to the head. He said another possibility might be the mind responding to the unbearable thought of being trapped in an enclosure in which there was nowhere to move and no way out.

He told me they had fixed the bones and had stabilized her, but they were unsure when she would emerge from the coma. I was told that they would be bringing in another specialist to perform additional tests, but for the moment, she was stable. He said I would be able to visit her shortly. I was also told they would be moving her to a different room and I would be able to visit her there.

I returned to my chair. Once again my mind was flooded with thoughts. I was thankful for the fact that her car had protected her from being crushed. I was sad because the occupant of the other car had not been so fortunate. I wondered how this situation would resolve itself. I wondered if one of her current male acquaintances would show up to check on his woman.

The nurse eventually came over and led me to the room where my wife had been transferred. I took a deep breath and entered. At first, I thought I was in the wrong room. The person lying in front of me had absolutely no resemblance to the woman I had married.

Tubes and wires were everywhere. Her head was almost completely covered in bandages. Where skin was exposed, it was puffy and purple. It was a shock to me. The prefect looking woman that I had known as my wife had vanished. In front of me lay a stranger, a damaged and bruised human being. If her name had not been written on the white board, I would have guessed that I was in the wrong room.

I didn't know what to think. My emotions were all over the place. We were separated. I didn't really have any obligation to care for her. But then, I did. I had lived with this woman. She was my wife. At one time I had loved her. Maybe in reality, I still did. No matter how I felt, I would have to be there for her. I would need to see this through. Deep inside, I knew it was the right thing to do.

I sat by her bed for a very long time. Nurses and doctors came and went. She just laid there, the only sounds I heard were those of the machines. Man-made equipment was monitoring her and giving her the life sustaining support that she needed.

I finally realized that it was time to leave. There was nothing further that I could do that night. I found a patch of skin on her forehead and gave her a little kiss. I looked at her for a moment and then said, "Get well, honey." After saying those words, I turned and headed out the door. I left instructions at the nurses' desk that I was to be called if there was any change in her condition or if she should awake.

I drove home with a flurry of weird and sometimes unwelcome thoughts running through my head. When I finally crawled into bed, I found it hard to sleep. I tossed and turned for most of the night.

When I awoke, it took me a few minutes to get my bearings. At first I thought it was all a bad dream. But then I saw my jacket thrown over the chair where I had left it the night before. I called work and told them what had happened. I said I would probably need the next few days off. I called the hospital to see if there had been any change. There hadn't.

I quickly ate my breakfast and headed to the hospital. It was a beautiful sunny day and the weather was perfect. I passed by people who were smiling and going about their daily lives. Didn't they know that a tragedy has just occurred, I wondered. How could they be so callous and unconcerned? Then I realized that they were living in their own little world, and I was living in mine.

My wife's parents were already there when I arrived. Her mother greeted me with a hug; tears running down her face. Her dad just shook my hand. I tried to fill them in on as many details as I could, but there was still much that I did not know. From what I could tell, there was no change in her situation.

I stayed for several hours, then left to take care of some business. I called my insurance company and informed them of the crash. I stopped by the towing yard to see if I could retrieve anything from the car. I couldn't. The car looked like it had gone through a crusher. There was no way that I could fathom how she had survived. I looked some more and spotted the Chrysler emblem. I silently thanked the engineers who had designed the three hundred. I was convinced that it was their abilities that had contributed to the fact that she had survived.

I stopped over at our house and checked to make sure that everything was in good condition. I figured that her parents would be staying there while they were in town. I picked up a few groceries for the refrigerator and then headed back to the hospital.

Her parents were waiting for my return so that they could get something to eat. I gave a house key to her dad and then told them that I would sit by the bed for the next few hours. Her mom gently brushed her hand against my shoulder as she left.

The discoloration had worsened over the night. What I was looking at was a monster. I wondered if she would ever look normal again. From what I could see, she would never again be the beauty that I had known. I have to admit, part of me wanted to leave and let her recover on her own. She had her mother, she didn't need me.