It was Don that called me that morning – JDs boss. All of JDs co-workers started calling in late and when one finally said to Don that she was late because she was stuck behind a wreck – it all clicked. JD was late . . . → Read More: The missing pieces]]> I thought I would update you all and clear up some missing pieces..

It was Don that called me that morning – JDs boss. All of JDs co-workers started calling in late and when one finally said to Don that she was late because she was stuck behind a wreck – it all clicked. JD was late and not answering his phone and that was just not like him.. if someone was in a wreck on the road to his work, it was probably him. Don sent one of them to find out what the car looked like that was involved in the accident and get back to him, but she called him back and said the officer on-site wouldn’t let her near it. He told her only that this was ‘not yet classified as a fatality accident’ and that the driver of the car involved was being taken to Brackenridge. Don left work to see for himself and that’s when he called me.

The hospital social worker that called met me at the front desk and again told me to stay calm and to breathe. She just kept saying that JDs injuries were ‘very serious but not life-threatening’ (a phrase that became increasingly confusing each time I heard it) but that we couldn’t see him until they were done stitching up his head.. she put us in a room to wait and said that she would come in soon and explain his ‘very serious’ injuries.

Eventually, she came back and blurted out a whole bunch of information that sounded like a big math problem: a clean break in C2 along with several small fractures in the same bone; fractures in T5 and T8; with most of the ribs on his right side broken and a head wound that required 21 stitches. I felt major panic that none of this would ever make sense and that I was going to miss something important because my brain was going a million miles a second and I didn’t know what any of that meant. The diagnosis in layman’s terms is that he broke his neck, back and ribs and cut his head open. There were several times that I thought I wished she had said it that way, but its probably a good thing she didn’t – I still can’t say that all out loud without getting a lump in my throat.

JD was in the hospital for 10 days – they initially put him in a TLSO brace and said he would stay in it anytime he was sitting up or standing; anytime he was laying down, I could take it off of him and he could wear a neck brace.

At JDs 2 week appointment, the doctor had ordered another set of xrays, and immediately sent him to get a CT scan. He called the next morning and said that he was referring him to a spine specialist because the break had shifted in such a way that he wanted more assistance from an expert.. within a few hours he had an appointment to meet with a neurosurgeon the next morning to be fitted for a halo brace in order to take away all mobility from his neck.

JD has been in the halo now for 2 weeks and has been told to expect to keep in on for 2-3 months. It is big, bulky, awkward and painful at times, but will keep his spinal column safe and the bone immobile for long enough to hopefully fuse it back together. It’s a wait-and-see game for now, but we do have a great neurosurgeon and a bigger-than-we-knew support system, and things certainly could be worse.

He’s my hero. He’s the strongest and bravest person I know. He has been the brightest spot in my life since the day I met him and this has only made him brighter.

Thank you all for your prayers and well-wishes and love. I had no idea so many people could come out of nowhere with exactly the right words that we needed, exactly when we needed them.

Just like every other morning, JD kissed me goodbye while I was half asleep and reminded me of such-and-such that had to get done/paid/resolved that day and I murmured a half-hearted “mmhmm-I know-mmkay-loveyoutoobye”. I got up, . . . → Read More: “I just know that he’s still alive”]]> As dramatic as it sounds to say, I guess our whole lives changed on Thursday, January 7th, 2010 at approximately 6:26am.

Just like every other morning, JD kissed me goodbye while I was half asleep and reminded me of such-and-such that had to get done/paid/resolved that day and I murmured a half-hearted “mmhmm-I know-mmkay-loveyoutoobye”. I got up, got the kids off to their respective bus stops, and was making coffee when my phone rang.

“JD’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT-YOU HAVE TO GO TO BRACKENRIDGE NOW”. My first thought was not, I guess, what one would expect, but instead “What an asshole. What an awful thing to say to someone”. I almost hung up. “ARE YOU THERE? HE’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT AND THEY ARE TAKING HIM TO BRACKENRIDGE. YOU HAVE TO GET THERE NOW. I’LL BE THERE WHEN YOU GET THERE. GO NOW.”

“Is he ok? What? What accident? Is he ok??” .. “UM. I JUST KNOW THAT HE’S STILL ALIVE”.

Everything goes a little fuzzy after that. I know that I hit my knees. I know that I prayed and begged and pleaded and bargained with God in a way I never have before. I know that it did occur to me that people don’t go from Manor, Texas all the way to the Trauma Center at Brackenridge Hospital in downtown Austin, bypassing several hospitals along the way, unless there is a major problem. I know that for some reason, I felt selfish -but didn’t care- when all I could say out loud, over and over was “Please God Please please don’t take him from me – please don’t take him from me please”. I was in Jack’s room, looking for socks for his feet when I realized I had no idea how to ‘get to Brackenridge’ and called my mother – and that’s when I realized that I was sobbing. I don’t know what I said to my mom when she answered, or what she said back to me, but when I knew she was on her way, I know that I sat down on Jacks floor and concentrated on breathing and praying and counting his socks over and over.. for some reason, I remember that I simply couldn’t make sense of them.

At some point before mom got to me, the social worker from the hospital called and said “Mrs. Darley, I need you to breathe – in your nose and out your mouth. I’m with your husband and I’m going to tell you about his condition, but I need you to stay with me”. Again, my first thought was “what an awful thing to say to someone” but I did what I was told and forced air into the phone so she would just say something. She said his injuries were very serious but not life threatening, that I needed to concentrate on getting there safely, and that he was able to tell her three things: my name, my cell phone number, and that I was pregnant and going be terrified. He had also told her to tell me to “please be calm”.

One hundred years later, the social worker stepped into the family waiting room they had put us in and said, again, that while his injuries were not life threatening, they were very serious. As she listed his injuries in doctor-speak, I struggled to follow the meaning – I just wanted her to say “and he’s going to be just fine” but she didn’t. I zeroed in on her words just long enough to hear her say that I would be allowed in to see him as soon as they finished something-rather. It wasn’t until days later that I realized “broken neck” and “broken back” would become parts of our regular vocabulary.

There are weird things that stamp themselves on your heart during surreal experiences like these. The site of JD’s boss, who was the one that called me, wiping tears from his eyes as quick as he could before he thought I saw him. The site of his dad, looking down at the threshold at the doors of the ER – pausing to take deep breath and then holding it as he  stepped through. And when they let me in to see him, as broken and hurting as he was, it was the site of tiny droplets of blood hanging on to his eyelashes that I can’t let go of. I can’t put logic on that part. I don’t know why that vision still makes my heart cave in. I know that there have been several times over the last 10 days though, that I have run a finger over his lashes and thanked God with every inch of my soul for letting me keep them.

He is, eventually, “going to be just fine”. He has more broken bones than we’ve been able to count, has more bruises than one body should have to hold, and is carrying around a body brace that no-one should be subjected to – but he, after all, is alive – and that’s what counts right now.