Introduction...

In the early morning hours of Dec. 4, 2010, my boyfriend Danny was involved in a single vehicle collision. He went over a very steep embankment, somehow continued driving, up a winding hill near our home, and hit a tree.  We had been out that evening, arriving at a bar only about an hour before closing time, and had several strong drinks in a short amount of time. He wanted to continue on to an after hours bar to hang out awhile longer with a buddy he hadn't seen in a long time. I wanted to go home because I had work in the afternoon of the next day, and was also quite shocked at how quickly I fell under the influence. My own memory has blank spots from that night. I remember us leaving the bar, and I remember refusing to get in the car with him. In a normal state of mind I would have had us both walk home and leave the car. I remember walking home up the alley and going into the house, alone. My daughter Shannon and younger son Nick were awake. They asked where Danny was and I replied "I don't know". They asked if we were quarreling and I said "no", and I know that we weren't. I got some iced tea and layed down on the sofa. My head was spinning.

It was no more than about a half hour later when someone was pounding on the door. I got up and answered the door and there stood two police officers. They asked my name, if Danny lived here, and told me he had had a very serious accident. When I asked if it was bad, they answered that it didn't look good at all and that he was unresponsive and being medivac'd to a trauma center an hour away. Wave upon wave of nausea hit me and I was crying out "Oh no....oh no!"  I vomited in front of the policeman and he was asking if I'd been in the car too. I told him I wasn't and that I'd walked home by myself. They found my purse in the car because i'd left it there when we went into the bar, and I suppose that's why they thought that I may have been in the car with him during the accident...that and the fact that I was vomiting. They told me what hospital he was going to and left. I was absolutely hysterical, crying, screaming, sick. Shannon called my older son Chris at work and he came right home. My phone had been with Danny and I had no numbers to get a hold of family. I was simply in no shape to go anywhere, could not think clearly or function and I cried myself to sleep for an hour or so. 

When the sun came up an hour later I tried to freshen up a bit, and made that awful call to the hospital. I was just a girlfriend so they wouldn't tell me anything except that he was there and in ICU. I was so very angry! I waited a half hour and called again. I insisted I be told his condition. I told them he really had no one but me, that he wasn't very close to his family and that we lived together two years. I got passed around from one department to another, over and over, until finally someone decided I should be told something. Unconscious, on a ventilator, broken bones, head injury. The only word I really heard was ventilator. I cried and cried. I lashed out at everyone around me. I was sooo angry at the both of us for our stupidity and carelessness!!

I got myself together best I could and Chris said he would drive me straight to the hospital. Before leaving town we went to where the car was towed so I could get my purse and look for my phone. I was numb, and seeing the car was an awful shock. But there was no time for crying now. I crawled inside, through the broken glass, the blood that was still damp, the shards of metal, the scattered things. The blood was on my hands and arms, on my jeans...my Danny's blood. The airbags hung empty and limp with wet blood in the creases. I saw the about 8 inch around, more finely shattered circle of glass on the upper left windshield...where Danny's head must have hit. I held myself together somehow, picturing...almost visualizing the violence of his body being knocked around inside that car. I tried to chase the images away. 

I found his glasses and wallet, but no cell phone. I wedged my hands into every square inch of the car that I could get them. I was acutely aware that time was ticking by. It dawned suddenly on me that I could call Danny's one uncle whose number I knew, but I had no cell, and couldn't bear going back to the house to use the home phone and taking up more precious time. I had to get to the hospital. I felt so ashamed of the state I was in, hungover and sick. The man at the wrecking company informed me that the police had my purse at the station, so we stopped there and the secretary gave it to me. No cell was in it. We stopped at Chris' girlfriend's house to quickly pick up a GPS, typed in the address, and were on our way.

I can't remember my son and I talking much on the way. I do remember looking over at him driving and loving him sooo much for taking me. He and Danny had had differences in the past, but things were pretty "ok" lately. But even if they hadn't been, I knew and appreciated that he would do this for me. He was all I had right now. I felt like we were the only two people in the world, driving as quickly and safely as we could, to a destination I both dreaded and wanted to get to. All sorts of images were going through my mind. The breathing machine, the thought of what the words "head injury" might exactly mean. Wondering if he would even be alive when I got there. Chris kept telling me not to worry...he'd be alive. 

We got to the hospital, parked, and walked stiffly inside. We navigated the halls until we found ICU. At the nurse's station I explained who I was, expecting a major problem being allowed in, but they swiftly pointed me toward his room. I thought it could only mean he was dying.

 It's kinda weird, but I was actually somewhat relieved when I saw him. I mean, it was an awful shock...the huge hose down his throat, and all sorts of smaller tubes in his mouth, in his nose, oxygen, the monitors and IV bags all over the place, the rhythmic thump, blow, suck sound of the ventilator, and this loud, almost musical set of tones coming from the vent monitor... the huge hard plastic neck brace. But i'd expected half of Danny's head to be smashed in or gone, and I also had expected his face to be bruised, cut, bloody. It looked a little puffy, but seemed unharmed except for below his bottom lip, which was grossly swollen, and I could see was stitched together under the lip line. I went to his side and took his hand, afraid almost to touch him at first. There were big strips of tape across and around his mouth securing the tubes. And there was some sort of odd-looking metal thing sticking out of his head, which I later learned was a "bolt" and is a gauge to measure pressure inside the skull should his brain swell. I introduced myself and Chris to the nurse as she came in and started busying herself all around Danny's bed. She gave me very little information. She seemed kind of rude...I don't know. My best friend Barb arrived then, and I remember her thanking Chris for bringing me to the hospital. I don't remember how much time passed, but I remember hugging Chris so hard before he left, thanking him, and telling him I was staying. Barb stayed awhile longer and offered for me to stay at her house, but I told her as well that I was not leaving. When I asked the nurse if I could go through his things to see if my cell was there, she said "Look, you could be ANYBODY. I can't let you do that" So I had her do it. She found my cell, and proceeded to quiz me about its ownership, having me describe my screen saver. I felt impatient now and told her I needed to make phone calls to family IMMEDIATELY! She gave me my phone then. I went into the bathroom and called Danny's sister Kimmy. She didn't believe me at first, then started screaming to others in the house. I tried to tell her what little I knew. They said they would be down ASAP. I also had to call my job and tell them the news, and they gave me the next few days off. And I called Shannon to ask her to keep Nick for at least the rest of the weekend.

            At that time, knowing nothing really about coma, I didn't realize that's what Danny was in. I just stood at the bed, crying, squeezing his hand, stroking his arm, saying nothing really. My knees were buckled in place from standing for so long and they hurt. But I didn't sit. I kept holding his hand, and looking closely at all the monitors and machines. I couldn't believe this was really happening.

             Kimmy and Danny's mom Susie, and other sister Tara arrived a few hours later. Kimmy cried a lot, and everyone was talking and trying to understand what happened.  We asked questions about his condition but were told so little. It was a tad loud in the room, which something told me wasn't good for Danny, and even some negative talk about dying and arrangements between Kim and Susie. Tara scolded them for such talk. I just can't recall all the details of that first night in full detail. We stood outside the hospital before Kim and Tara left and I remember just keeping on saying that Danny is sooo stubborn and strong-willed, and he will be ok. That he will walk out of the hospital on his own. I'm not sure who I was trying to make feel better...them or me, but I knew instinctively that Danny needed the power of ONLY positive thinking now.

His mom and I napped a little while in the little room at the end of the hall that night, taking turns going in to sit with him. Her and my conversation was shallow and impersonal, even a bit hurtful on her part once or twice toward me. But it didn't matter to me anymore what she or anyone else thought about the age difference between Danny and I, or their thoughts on our relationship and why we were together. I loved Danny with all my heart...never realizing fully until now just how VERY much, and I wasn't going to leave his side.