Three days, three emergency rooms

The morning of the Feast of St. Francis, my local police department called with the news that my mother had been in an accident on her way to my house. She'd been paused at an intersection with her foot on the brake waiting to make a left hand turn, when a nineteen year old in the oncoming lane changed a compact disc, swerving just enough to hit her head on. The police said they were taking her to a local emergency room, but assured me her injuries were only minor.

Daddy rushed home from work to look after the children, and I headed for the hospital. Brushing aside a curtain in a dimly lit room, I found her sitting up in bed, wrapped in a blanket and looking reasonably well. Her leg was sore, but she remained upbeat, telling me the details of the accident, saying how nice the teenage boy had been and how sorry she felt for him. [He had already been discharged from the same emergency room.] More than anything else, she wanted to know if The Long Island Catholic had come out with my new column in it. [In other words, she was completely herself.]

A nurse bustled through the curtain with discharge papers, surprising us with the good news that Mom was ready to go home. My big black twelve passenger van, affectionately known around here as "the monster truck," is difficult for my mother to mount even on her best day, so there was no way she could get into it with a sore leg. I raced home to switch cars, returning in less than an hour and parking in the emergency room circle, hoping she would be ready to go.

Setting aside the faded curtain, I did not find my mother dressed and ready, eager to stop for a cup of soup on the way home, as she had been planning only an hour before. She was sick and dazed, her face red and puffy. Although she knew me, she could no longer recall the accident, acting surprised and alarmed each time she heard it mentioned.

Needless to say, the doctor on call would not send her home, but ordered she be taken to another hospital with a trauma surgeon. The fear was that she might have taken a bump to the head in the accident, causing a bleed on the brain. Personally, I thought she had had a stroke, brought on by the ordeal of the accident and just being in the hospital. As sweet and friendly as she is, my mother is a quiet person who craves privacy. I couldn't help feeling that if I had gotten her out of there in the first place, she would have been all right.

I returned home in the empty red Saturn, stopping to nurse the baby and grab a bite to eat before heading to the second emergency room. Night had fallen and there was a chill in the air. The hospital loomed before me, billowing smoke in crazy wisps, so that it seemed there could never be a more oppressive looking building. Six times before, Daddy and I had arrived at that same hospital at all hours, joy and excitement quickening our every step. How different was this lonesome walk, plodding toward the emergency room and a bleak unknown.

My mother was lying in a bed in the hallway. Other people's loved ones were lying in beds too, and a janitor made his way around them with a mop. Mom's cheeks looked redder than ever, making her eyes seem small and almost childlike. I stood trying to explain what had happened to her, waiting for someone else to come around and try to explain it to me. Eventually two young doctors took me aside, their speeches peppered with words like "dementia" and "loopy," concluding with a regretful, "she may never come out of it."

Back on the pavement outside, I felt sick to my stomach. Harsh lights beamed down on my head as I passed two hospital workers paused for a cigarette. An ambulance blared in the distance, drawing closer, so that the scene took on a surreal quality. I fancied it to be a movie set of an emergency room and wished I could tear it all down to reclaim the bright, hopeful morning that seemed so distant now.

The next day, I tried teaching the children in the cottage, the familiar routine somehow reassuring. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept catching glimpses of my mother walking up the driveway as she so often did, each time feeling a stab remembering that this might never be again. The younger children did not quite grasp the seriousness of Grandma's condition, mostly because I could not bring myself to tell them. In spite of my silence, Theresa's jaw twitched, and Agnes shed quiet tears, looking at me with round, understanding eyes. Those girls of mine are growing up.

By the time I was able to return to the hospital, the sun was just beginning to set, and I was driving right into it. It was enormous on the horizon, round and orange, the kind of sun no driver wants to face--yet somehow it made me think about "the woman clothed with the sun." I half remembered another experience in the very same hospital and the woman "with the moon under her feet." She had seen me through the bleak unknown before and had given me reason after reason to trust. I thought about that recent column and its bottom line: "The Blessed Mother always takes care of us."

All right, I decided then and there, I am going to trust. Not trust in the outcome I wanted, mind you, but in the Blessed Mother's care, no matter what the outcome.

I made my way to my mother's room and found her sitting up in bed. Something in the glimmer of her eye made me ask hopefully, "Mom, do you remember the accident?"

"Yes," she said, "I remember it, but it only came back to me a little while ago. A group of doctors was in asking me questions, and I kept telling them there had been no accident. I insisted I had come to the hospital after my doctor's appointment on Wednesday. The moment they walked away, it began to come back to me, and I realized what they were talking about."

She proceeded to tell me all the details, every bit as lucidly as she had during that first hour in the hospital. She began cracking jokes that had me howling, describing how the doctors had looked askance when she denied the accident, each one jotting down the same note in his or her book: "N-U-T-S!" [In other words, she was completely herself.]

Mom's leg is still in bad shape, and she cannot walk, but time and rehabilitation will take care of that. I have been taking sub-groups of the family to visit her at the rehab center every day, and there is currently no higher aspiration in life for my children than to be the one to carry the mail in to Grandma. Everyone is waiting hopefully for the day the red Saturn will bring her home to stay with us.

And, yes, as this title tells, there was a third emergency room in my future, but that, I'm afraid, is a tale in itself!

Comments

[Kristen Laurence]

Oh my goodness, how heartwrenching! Your telling of the events is just as beautiful as the happy ending.

"The Blessed Mother always takes care of us." Indeed, she does. Alice, you are always such a beautiful witness of faith. God bless and protect your dear mother. She is clearly one very special woman. +

[Eileen]

Oh, my goodness, Alice, what a horrible and amazing ordeal. Your faith continues to amaze and inspire me.

And you and your mom will be in our prayers.

(I am fearful, yet eager, to hear the rest of the story...) !!

Warmly,
Eileen

[Margaret Mary Myers]

I'm so glad your mother is doing all right! Thank you, Dear Jesus. May she recover fully in the coming days.

[Claire]

Sending prayers!

Peace,
Claire

[patience]

What a dreadful experience! Thank God your mother is back to herself. You tell the story in such a light and even at times funny way, but I can imagine how terrifying it must have been. I hope she continues to improve. Sending prayers.

[Dawn]

Oh, Alice, what a frightening ordeal! I am so relieved your mother is all right. We'll be praying for her.

[Barbara]

You certainly put your faith in the right person and I'm so glad that she came through for you so quickly. What a frightening experience. Hope your mom mends quickly.

[Christine M]

Wow - what a scary week you had. I'm so glad your mother is doing better. I'll be praying for her.

[Jennie C.]

I'm relieved that your mother is alright! God bless all of you.

[Amy]

Praying for all of you - what a beautiful story of faith!

[joann10]

I'm glad your mother is better. I will keep her in my prayers, especially my prayers to Our Blessed Mother.

[Jeannine]

Continuing to pray for you all, but so very relieved and thankful to hear of the improvements!

[Love2learn Mom]

I'm so glad to know that things turned out the way they did.

[Rachel]

Oh Alice, I am so glad your mother seems so much better... it is amazing what faith can do :) I will keep her in my prayers, and hope you feel up to updating us soon :)

[Jennifer in TX]

Dear Alice,
I am praying for your mother's recovery and for comfort and strength for you all.

[KC]

Oh, Alice, I relived it all with you. My heart dropped when I read this but what wonderful a uplifting ending.

I'll keep her (and you, my dear friend) in my prayers.

God bless.

[Cay]

Oh, reading this made me so sad. :( I'm glad she is doing better.

God bless and heal her.

[Maria Ashwell]

Alice my heart just ached reading this as I thought of my own mother's experience this summer. Tell your dear mother I am praying for her as fervently as I prayed for my own.

[Beck]

Alice, what an awful few days you've had - and yet what a blessing that your mother is herself again. I'll keep her in my prayers.

[Jennifer]

Continuing to pray, Alice.

[Mary Beth P]

So sorry to hear of your mother's (and your) ordeal. Glad she's doing better. I will keep her and your family in my prayers- Hugs to you all!

[Lorraine]

There is just nothing that will ever tug at our hearts like our mothers...I'm so glad yours is safe and recovering. I competely understand that moment of truth when we have to trust Our Mother's care no matter the outcome. Mine are still crystalized in my soul.
Much love, Alice.

[Account Deleted]

How frightening - but what a beautiful story has come of it. You and your family are such a testimony to the faith, Alice. Prayers for her and your family.

[Mariposa]

I hope she continues to get well.

[Leonie]

Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your mum - glad to see she is on the mend...

[MaryM]

Praying for her continued recovery.

[Courtney]

What a scary ordeal! Glad your mom is better. Prayers for you all!

[Mary G.]

So very thankful all is well .... TRUST, what a powerful word and you've imaged it perfectly here. Thanks for sharing as this is so important for me to hear repeatedly!

[Julia S.]

Alice,
I'm glad things are turning around for your mother. I'll keep her in my prayers and say a special thank you to our Blessed Mother for all her help.

[Cheryl M.]

Alice, prayers for continued healing for your mother.

[Maria]

I'm sorry for what your Mother has been through.

Be assured of our prayers for restoration of health!

[Meredith]

Seeing this a day late, dear Alice I'm so sorry for all your worry and will pray that your sweet dear mother heals completely!! Our Lady will prevail, I know she will :)

[Maria Rioux]

I am soooo happy to know your mother is feeling so like herself after all she's been through! We'll keep her in our prayers while we wait for the day when you can tell us about the next time she walks up to visit you...with everyone running out to meet her. :)
God bless, Maria

[Leona]

so glad to hear that you Mom is on the mend. What a scare! sending lots of healing prayers to you and your mom.
Leona