Fun Monday #25, The Car --- The Call
Tiggerlane, the Neophyte Blogger is hosting today's fun. She is adjusting her tiara and telling everyone: I wanna see your CAR! It can be your current car, the first car you ever had, maybe your first new car with that new-car smell, a car you wrecked once, or even the dream car you would drive - given all the money in the world! Oh - and if you have a truck, SUV, lawnmower, whatever the local authorities allow you to drive, let's see it!
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A young firefighter was off duty when he heard the call reporting a one-car rollover on his scanner. He was only one mile from the scene so he hopped in his pick up truck and headed down the country road.
The heavy downpour limited visibility, but he glimpsed the dimming lights from the car about 50 feet off the road. He pulled over, leaped from his rig, and traversed the short distance fighting the mud's attempts to suction off his boots.
When he reached the car, he recognized it and the young woman driver. She was one of the Fire Captains daughters. My Fire Captain's daughter.
I answered the phone quickly as I wasn't quite asleep. I knew Amanda should be home soon, and I was worried because the rain was relentless.
The voice on the other end of the line was a familiar one - a firefighter. He asked for the hubby and I quickly handed over the phone.
I heard the hubby's side of the conversation: Is she still in the car? How badly is she hurt? Where are you? Yes - we can be there in 20 minutes. I agree she should be transported by ambulance.
We jumped up, threw on coats, and ran out the door in less than a minute. My heart beat on my rib cage like a prisoner banging for escape on the bars of his cell.
It's every parent's nightmare; that middle of the night call to inform you of an accident involving a child. The drive there seemed to take forever, although I know it was only minutes. In the distance, the flashing blue and red lights finally came into view.
Amanda was already on the Backboard by the time we arrived and the emergency responders were loading her into the warm and dry ambulance to get a better look at her.
I could see the car on its side where it landed after flipping. The road was slimy from mud that overflowed from a rain saturated fallow wheat field. That and a set of new breaks - a treacherous combination.
She was conscious and responding correctly to the questions the paramedics were asking when we caught them at the ambulance door.
"I'm sorry about your car, mom," she said when my teary face appeared over her for a short moment.
Now that she has a daughter of her own she understands how absurd that statement was -- who cares about a piece of metal on wheels when your child is hurt and you don't know how badly.
Much later, at the hospital Emergency room, the on call physician placed the X-rays on the lighted view box.
"These are Transverse Process fractures," he explained. No head injuries. Lots of bruises and abrasions, but no other broken bones.
I have perfect recall - my standing there - looking at my daughters broken back - with her belly button ring highlighting the center of the film.
It has been nearly 7 years and Amanda's injury still triggers back pain and phantom nerve stimulation. Yoga is helpful.
Oh yeah... the car. It was a great car. The insurance company totaled it and I eventually bought another one that gets me where I'm going.
* * * * * * * * *
A young firefighter was off duty when he heard the call reporting a one-car rollover on his scanner. He was only one mile from the scene so he hopped in his pick up truck and headed down the country road.
The heavy downpour limited visibility, but he glimpsed the dimming lights from the car about 50 feet off the road. He pulled over, leaped from his rig, and traversed the short distance fighting the mud's attempts to suction off his boots.
When he reached the car, he recognized it and the young woman driver. She was one of the Fire Captains daughters. My Fire Captain's daughter.
I answered the phone quickly as I wasn't quite asleep. I knew Amanda should be home soon, and I was worried because the rain was relentless.
The voice on the other end of the line was a familiar one - a firefighter. He asked for the hubby and I quickly handed over the phone.
I heard the hubby's side of the conversation: Is she still in the car? How badly is she hurt? Where are you? Yes - we can be there in 20 minutes. I agree she should be transported by ambulance.
We jumped up, threw on coats, and ran out the door in less than a minute. My heart beat on my rib cage like a prisoner banging for escape on the bars of his cell.
It's every parent's nightmare; that middle of the night call to inform you of an accident involving a child. The drive there seemed to take forever, although I know it was only minutes. In the distance, the flashing blue and red lights finally came into view.
Amanda was already on the Backboard by the time we arrived and the emergency responders were loading her into the warm and dry ambulance to get a better look at her.
I could see the car on its side where it landed after flipping. The road was slimy from mud that overflowed from a rain saturated fallow wheat field. That and a set of new breaks - a treacherous combination.
She was conscious and responding correctly to the questions the paramedics were asking when we caught them at the ambulance door.
"I'm sorry about your car, mom," she said when my teary face appeared over her for a short moment.
Now that she has a daughter of her own she understands how absurd that statement was -- who cares about a piece of metal on wheels when your child is hurt and you don't know how badly.
Much later, at the hospital Emergency room, the on call physician placed the X-rays on the lighted view box.
"These are Transverse Process fractures," he explained. No head injuries. Lots of bruises and abrasions, but no other broken bones.
I have perfect recall - my standing there - looking at my daughters broken back - with her belly button ring highlighting the center of the film.
It has been nearly 7 years and Amanda's injury still triggers back pain and phantom nerve stimulation. Yoga is helpful.
Oh yeah... the car. It was a great car. The insurance company totaled it and I eventually bought another one that gets me where I'm going.
Comments
I'm glad she was okay for the most part though.
This is my worst nightmare.
My son is only 8, but I dread the day he starts driving. HE will be a good driver, but there are so many out there who are not.
xo
The belly button ring on the X-ray - too funny!
What a scary story. I'm so glad Amanda was okay. I have all kinds of weird phantom pain in my ankle, that is the worst. I can't imagine it in my back.
And I do understand now how absurd the statement was.
I still get the jeebies when I drive down that road. Although last time I was in town, they were doing a lot of work on it. Maybe they are fixing that dangerous curve??
Hey, mom... I'm still sorry about your car.
no how
i need my heart to continue workin ya know?
Thanks so much for sharing.
I am so glad it was not worse...so grateful.
Hugs to you dear Pam.
Sue
I'm so glad that Amanda is well and has a baby of her own now.
Every year on the anniversary of the wreck that my husband suffers every day from, we are reminded of the miracle that he is. We have the tennis shoe he was wearing that his grandmother picked up from the neighboring field as a memento of that day that his family will never forget.
Have I ever mentioned that your writing takes the reader to the scene? Only, maybe, about 20 times?
glad she is okay tho..too bad about the car!
"oh, my heck, mom and dad are going to kill me."
you're a wonderful story teller.
And with Rachel beginning to drive in less than a month (yikes!), ALL these tales of car wrecks are unnerving me to say the least!
Yeah, I've already thought about "this call"...I pray I never receive it.
Amanda kind of glossed over her accidents...a mother's perspective would tell us the rest of the story!
My husband rolled one of his cars out on a country dirt road, and to this day he drives extremely cautiously.