Silent Night

As I type this, I'm sitting at work at my casual job--a nursing home not far from my house. It's Christmas Eve. Actually, I guess now it's technically Christmas morning, since it's 1 a.m. Despite the fact that none of the patients here want to sleep tonight, it's been a pretty uneventful shift so far. Even with the unexpected (and unusual) free time, and the holiday pay, I would rather be home in bed. I actually probably wouldn't be sleeping, but I wish I was home in front of the fireplace with the only other illumination being the lights from our Christmas tree. Even though everyone else has been asleep for hours, there's something about the silence of a full house in the middle of the night that has always brought me peace. Even now, this week, when I haven't been able to find much of either sleep or peace, I think a few hours of peaceful silence could do me good.

I don't know how to segue into this, besides to just type it, so please bear with me. My thoughts have been so scattered lately, and that will probably reflect in this post. I'm going to warn you right now that there will be some graphic elements to what I'm about to write, but it's something that I need to get out so that I can process some of the mess in my head.

I work the night shift at the hospital. Actually I work nights at the nursing home, too, but last Sunday night I was scheduled at the hospital. Sometimes, when our census is down the staffing office will call and offer an EA (excused absence) for the shift. Usually, for the night shift they call between 920 and 940 at night. For some reason on Sunday night, they called at 900 pm, and I was still sleeping. I had been hoping for an EA that night--I've been working a ton and it's starting to wear on me. I called back, hoping no one else had opted for the night off, but no such luck, so I grudgingly got ready for work. There are a few different routes I can take to get to work, depending on my mood and construction and traffic flow. That night I chose to take I-94 in since it's a faster trip and I hadn't left as early as I would have liked. I was on 94, halfway through St. Paul, when all of a sudden there was a car on its roof in the lane I was in.

I couldn't quite make sense of what I was seeing at first, but there was plenty of time for me to slow down, and get over one lane. I couldn't get over any further to the right because there was too much traffic coming up behind me. I pulled off to the left about 30 or 40 feet in front of the flipped car. As I was pulling over I was thinking "I shouldn't be stopping here." Then I got out of my car to check to see if anyone was hurt. As I was getting out of my car I was thinking "I should not be getting out of my car," and I turned back to get back inside. I wouldn't have been able to safely pull back into traffic until the scene was more secure, but I felt I would be safer inside my car. It seemed like a million thoughts were rushing through my head in that minute or two. One that seemed the loudest was that if it was me in that car, I would want someone to help me. I had my hand on the door handle to get back inside when I saw two men running down the road on the other side of the highway, and crossing over towards the middle. That's all it took for me to act instead of think.

I ran along with them towards the rolled car. It was a red four door sedan, and it was blocking most of the left lane. I learned later that a truck (driven by another victim) had merged into the car, which then lost control and rolled. The front of the car was facing west-bound, at about a 45 degree angle to the center barrier wall. The two men went towards the middle of the car, and I went more towards the front, trying to get around and see if anyone was on the other side. I also felt like I needed to be where I could see traffic, just in case someone came barrelling through past all the other stopped cars. The guys got the back passenger-side door pried open, and a young woman crawled out of the car. I was still unable to see over the car, and turned to the other guys and started to say that we should get out from behind the car, just in case. Before the words were even out of my mouth I heard the sound of metal on metal, and was hit by the car and thrown back onto the road.

I hit head and shoulders first, and all I could do was say "please, God, no" over and over. At least I think I was saying it, I know for sure I was thinking it. The car basically spun around me in an arc, missing me by literally inches. I honestly thought I was dead. The car finished its slide, and I was in flight mode. I scrambled up over the center barrier wall, expecting another impact at any second. It honestly took me a few seconds to realize I was on the east bound side of the highway, and in a spot where there is no shoulder. I was pretty disoriented from my head smacking the ground. As soon as I realized where I was I jumped back up over the wall and ended up right by my car.

Looking up to the right I noticed a couple of guys working on making sure no other traffic came through the scene. Looking down to the right, I saw one of the men who had been standing little more than an arm's length away from me barely minutes ago. His legs were obviously broken, he was missing teeth, and his intestines had come through his abdominal wall and t-shirt. It registered in my mind that there were two other people not yet accounted for. I looked to my left and saw a body in the road about 25 yards away, and another about 50 yards away. Neither was moving.

I saw people trying to move one of the victims, I think because they were afraid of more cars driving through, and seeing that kicked me into gear. I tried to yell at them to stop moving her, but again I'm not even sure if I was talking out loud at that point. I ran over to her, and noticed it was the girl from the rolled car. I immediately checked her breathing and checked for a pulse. She was still breathing and her pulse felt strong, but she was unconscious and obviously very injured. She had blood around her head and neck, but no obvious bleeding that needed to be controlled. A man walked up to us with a cell phone, and asked if anyone had called 911. I told him "just call." I also told him to ask if anyone had blankets. Another bystander started asking people and collecting blankets, towels, and tarps. I put a blanket over the girl, and a tarp to try to keep her warm. She was breathing, her airway didn't appear to be in danger, and there was not much we could do at that point.

Just then another nurse appeared by my side and asked how she was. I don't even remember what I said, except "she's alive." Another woman came by just then, and told the other nurse to stabilize the girl's head and neck. I don't know why it hadn't occured to me. Seeing people try to move her had triggered the thought that she shouldn't be moved in case she has a spinal cord injury, but then I couldn't make that connection when I was right there. I blame the smacking my head on the highway thing. All I could do until the other woman (who I've since connected with and is named Leah) came up to us, was hold the girl's hand and put my other on her stomach to try to let her somehow know she wasn't alone. Later I learned the young woman's name is Alicia.

After the other nurse came next to me and Leah had come by I realized I still had blankets, and there were two more victims on the road. I asked Leah about the young man (who we would later learn was named Marcus, and had been driving the truck) farther west on the highway, and all she could do was shake her head and say "he's dead." She then headed back towards my car, and I followed her. The man (who we later learned is named Keith) was making a horrible noise that I still can't get out of my head. It was somewhere between a groan and a sound like someone shivering. I remember his eyes being open, but I'm not sure he was seeing anything. There were friends of his around, including a woman who was (understandibly) hysterical, running around him and screaming. I remember grabbing her by the shoulders and telling her to stop screaming. I said that isn't going to help him. We need to hold his head and neck still. Leah was already working on that, but I needed this woman to stop screaming. That looks terrible as I type it, but it was hard to hold it together when all I could think was that should be me, and all I could hear was screaming and crying.  

Leah stabilized Keith's head and neck, while I tried to assess for any obvious bleeding. He had jeans on, so it was hard to tell, but I didn't notice any blood pouring out of anywhere. Right then he started making a noise that sounded like he was choking on his own blood. We didn't want to roll him to try to protect his spinal cord, and thankfully just then some firefighters came and were able to get him on his side to keep his airway clear. There was another person there, I'm not sure if he was fire rescue, EMS, State Patrol, or St. Paul PD. He told the firefighter that the guy had a perforation, and all I could think was "you mean evisceration." Like the distinction really mattered at that point. My brain was so not with it. I turned to go back towards Alicia, but EMS already had her on a stretcher, and the other nurse that had been with her was walking back towards me. She had blood on her hands, and I remembered I had a diaper bag with wipes in the car. I pulled a bunch out for her and another guy.

The three of us stood by my car, and the other nurse (I got her name initially, but can't remember it now) asked if I was ok. I mentioned that I'd been hit by the car and had been thrown backwards, but I thought I was ok. The guy standing with us was talking to one of the responders, and mentioned I'd been hit. The responder told the guy to have me sit down and they'd come check me out. The other nurse saw me shivering (I'm still not sure if I was cold or in shock) and grabbed a blanket of hers that hadn't been used and covered me up. She sat with me until the responder (I'm assuming EMT?) came back to talk to me. He took my info, felt the bump on my head, asked if I wanted to go get checked out, and assessed my level of orientation (I got the date wrong, but then figured it out). All I could think was I can't leave the car here or it will be towed (and it was Martin's mom's car I was driving). I knew I wasn't ok to drive home or to the hospital, so I called Martin and he made arrangements to get over to St. Paul to pick me up and drive me to the hospital. The guy who had been taking my info cleared it with State Patrol that I could drive off since my car hadn't been involved. He tried to direct me through the middle of the accident scene, but I noticed what looked to be intestines lying in the road, and stopped. They finally got me off the road, and I drove basically around the corner to a Target parking lot to wait for Martin. The 20 minutes it took for Martin to get to me felt like hours, and I had my own hysterical breakdown there in the car. Martin showed up and drove me to the hospital where they scanned my cat, and gave me the all-clear to go home.

The next day I learned that a man driving a minivan had slammed into the car--and Marcus--going around 60 mph, causing the car to slide about 10 feet and do a 180 degree turn. Marcus was killed on impact, and flew approximately 50 yards, being decapitated in the process. It's hard to tell, but it seems like the impact from the car threw Alicia and Keith, rather than them being hit by the van directly. I've since connected with Alicia's father, and learned that she had a rod placed in her right leg, and they may need to amputate her left below the knee. She's being kept sedated, but it appears that the swelling in her brain is decreasing. They woke her up for a few minutes the other night, and she looked at her parents and squeezed their hands. I'm hoping that's a good sign. Her dad says she's tough and she's a fighter.

The other man, Keith, is a father to 6 children and is also still in critical condition. He's lost part of his left leg, and may lose an arm. As far as I know he hasn't woken up yet either. The driver of the truck in the original accident, Marcus, had been on the way to drop his girlfriend off at her home on his way home to Michigan for Christmas break. His girlfriend saw him hit, and ran up to his body after he landed on the road. I saw her being led away by a police responder, and she was hysterical. I couldn't even understand the words she was saying. My heart aches for her. No one should have to witness that.

I'm fine, except for bumps, bruises, scrapes on my knee and elbows, and a near constant sore neck and headache. I was picking debris out of my hair for days, and kept biting tiny rocks that night, even after rinsing my mouth out several times. I can't sleep, and am having frequent flashbacks and startling at the slightest bangs. But I'm alive and home with my family on Christmas, with no life altering injuries.

The driver of the minivan? His name is Eugene Farrell, and he was drunk when he drove past dozens of stopped and slowing vehicles and plowed into an accident scene. He never even hit the brakes. He was booked into the Ramsey County jail after being treated for minor injuries (he has a black eye). He was released from jail on Wednesday, and is home for Christmas. I don't even have words for how angry that unfairness makes me.

I don't know how to process everything that happened, and I find myself wanting to do nothing but hole up at home with my family and hold my babies close. I don't know how I'm ok. I shouldn't be, given where I was and the condition of the others who were mere feet from me. It definitely makes this Christmas bittersweet. The only thing Martin said to me that night that showed he was shaken by the events of the evening, as he choked up, was "I don't know what I would have told Kaleb." The thought of him and Karina growing up without me there to be a part of it makes me want to break down and cry. I don't know why I was spared, but I thank God that I was.

I'm back. With the first chunk...

Holy cow, I can't believe my last post was almost a year and a half ago! I've kept meaning to catch my blog up, but the longer it went the more daunting the task seemed. But now I'm going to take a cue from Nike, and just do it. I think the best way to catch up on a year and a half is to do it in chunks. First of all, back to July, 2010.

In two of my last posts, I alluded to bad news that I should post about but didn't want to. I'll do that now. Bad things always seem less horrible when viewed from a distance. 

Since Martin had lost his job, we were barely getting by. Each month got a little tighter. We ended up having to apply for assistance to try to keep our townhouse. We were just trying to hold on until I could get a job that would pay the bills. We qualified for rental assistance, which helped fill the gap. In early July the payment from the county (which always went right to our property management company) was late. We had our part of the rent, but our landlord refused to accept a partial payment. Instead they chose to evict us. We asked that they return the county's payment since they weren't going to use it to allow us to stay in our home, so that we could use it to find a new place to live. Instead, they waited until the week after we vacated and then cashed the check. It was a horrible time.

Looking back I don't really know how we made it through. I think it was just that we had small goals and needed to meet each one in a short amount of time. We threw together a garage sale and made enough to rent a storage unit and pay for a motel for a week or so. From late July through mid-September we were homeless. Martin still had the paper routes, so we had about a $1000 coming in each month. He would get paid, we'd pay what few bills we had left (storage, insurance, cell phones, food, and gas), and use what was left to rent a motel room until money ran out. Then he (and Chevy) would live in the Focus while Kaleb and I went and stayed with my parents. Then he'd get paid again and we'd get to all be together once more. Again, it was a horrible time.

Since we were an intact family, we qualified for emergency assistance to help us pay for a hotel room. We still had to pay our part, but we got help, and it eliminated me having to take Kaleb and go to my parents' house. Shortly before we were evicted, I found out I was pregnant. It was a complete shock! And it only added to the stress. One of the requirements of receiving support from the county was that we had to have visits from a social worker. It was a pretty crappy feeling. But she said she had seen many families in our situation, and most of them ended up splitting up from the stress. She said it looked like Martin and I would escape that fate, and that we seemed to work really well as a team. I think he and I have always done better when we're working towards a common goal. 

I mentioned in one of my last posts that I had a job interview lined up. I ended up getting the job at a nursing home 65 miles from home. The job was a Godsend, but it was also one of the toughest job situations I've ever been in. Before I even got my first paycheck we were kicked off emergency assistance. Thankfully around that time we also found an apartment. It turned out to be a really crappy place to live, but it was a roof over our heads and we all got to be together (in more than a tiny hotel room). Martin starting referring to it as the "crappy new house," which is, of course, what Kaleb starting referring to it as, also. We moved in on Friday, September 13, 2010 (which should have been an omen). It was a tiny little two bedroom, so Anthony got one room, Kaleb got the other, and Martin and I bought a futon for the living room. If it wasn't for our horrible, horrible neighbors (short version: drug busts--seriously, SWAT with assault rifles drawn--more than once, fights on a weekly basis, abusive parents across the hall, and more screaming than I ever want to hear again), it would have been a cozy place for us to live and regroup. And regroup we did...