The call…

I heard once that every parent dreads that late night phone call. Can I just say the late afternoon calls are just as scary? No, thank God we didn’t get THAT call, but we did get a call saying our oldest son was in the hospital. When I asked what for, they said ‘he’s fine, but…’. I was scared to death to hear the next words coming from the nurse’s mouth.

My oldest son works for a company that sells and services commercial vehicles. He went to run a wheel out to a tech and decided to stay and help. There was already a jack under the axle, but they needed the vehicle to be higher. He maxed one out and went to get another that would get the vehicle where they needed it. The one jack was on a block of wood – standard practice. As he started placing the second jack, he picked up on the sound of cracking wood. Before he knew it, the fuel truck he was working on was coming down, the weight of the truck crushing the block of wood, sending the truck moving forward. He says he rolled and pushed as hard as he could, but the heavy bumper came down on him. Luckily, because he rolled, he got low enough so the trucks wheel hit the ground first and stopped it from crushing him. The tech he was with pulled him out at his request. After a few minutes, he decided an ambulance was in order.

A few hours in the ER, a CT scan, and a lot of pain meds later, we found out he has multiple fractures in his pelvis and sacrum, and one fracture above his hip joint. Tomorrow he is scheduled for surgery. Two screws to make sure things stay aligned.

Thank God.

Now to the deep part of this blog. The emotion. Wow.

For my wife and I, we let our imaginations run away with us. We realized that a couple of cracks sure as hell beat loss of his legs or ability to walk. And nothing beats the fact we still have him. NOTHING!

We cried. We joked. We talked about what to do for him. He’s still our baby.

What we didn’t consider at first is his feelings. He’s a hard worker. He’s a gym rat. He rarely slows down. Then the doctor kicked him in the nuts. 8 weeks no weight bearing and 12 weeks for the side with the crack above his hip socket. We heard the time frame and thought ‘that’s not so bad’. But to him, it was much more. It was no spring break trip to Florida. It was realizing a few weeks of not driving or getting to the gym. It means not working. It means sitting on the couch watching TV for longer than he cares to. All because of a freak accident.

He has said he realizes how lucky he is. That’s a start in recovery and rehab. We left him alone for a few minutes to gather his thoughts, and I think it made all the difference. I’ve found when you get bad news, not many people want people standing over them telling them all the positives. We aren’t the one laying in a hospital bed unable to use our legs. We aren’t the one that was told our life is on hold for twelve weeks. We aren’t the one who got a week on the beach yanked away.

But he’s resilient. Another doctor just came in and checked on him. He simply responded with “I’ll do what I have to do”.

That’s our boy. Our young man.

Prayers for patience. Prayers for strength. Prayers for healing. Quickly.