The Call

You know those moments in life, when the phone rings and you look at the caller id and you think hmm, why is this person calling me, and you feel like you shouldn't answer it but you know you have to? I have only had his happen a handful of times, usually around the time when a grandparent is near the end and I just don't want to hear those words.

But this weekend it happened again, and this time it was different.

My dad and I took Lila for a walk on Saturday, and Lee went out for a bike ride. I was annoyed with him because he had overfilled the tires on our Bugaboo, and I was forced (and yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds) to take the double stroller with just one child. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't say I love you. I didn't say be careful.

I always say be careful.

After our walk I was in our room getting ready for the day when the phone rang. It was one of my dad's best friends, a longtime family friend, someone Lee usually cycles with but who was unable to go this weekend due to an injury.

"Hey And, just wanted to let you know that Lee got into an accident and his face is scraped up..."

Okay, so at this point I am thinking I need to go get him. No biggie. And then he continued.

"Don't worry, he is conscious, but the ambulance is on its way"

The ambulance. The ambulance. Conscious. Ambulance. Conscious. Everything became a blur.

His family is in town, for a visit and to be here for Lila's baptism on Sunday. I called to his mom, asking her to watch the kids. I called my parents, in tears, and they came over right away. My dad was in constant contact with our friend, and we knew more details. He wasn't just going to a hospital, he was going to the trauma hospital. The head trauma hospital.

We saw his ambulance, on the way there. It came flying past us, lights on, sirens screeching. All I could say through my tears is that Finn would have loved to have seen it, if he was with us.

The ER was crazy, they let me go back but wouldn't let me see him. The woman told me, as she watched my tears, that he would be okay. I waited, with my parents, 2.5 hours before they finally let me see him. He was in the trauma room, he was very out of it, he was on morphine, and he was a bloody mess.

He broke his nose. He broke his wrist. He broke a vertebrae in his back. He had multiple lacerations all over his face, and stitches all over, and in his mouth. His forehead was bruised, from his helmet, which cracked on impact. It would have been his head. His helmet saved his life.

It saved his life.

I told him how sorry I was, that I didn't say goodbye, or that I love him. He told me he didn't remember anything, and that he didn't think he would make Lila's Baptism the next day. I told him I agreed.

The next 24 hours included an overnight stay, lots of pain medicine, tears, and many, many messages from people asking how they could help, sending their love, prayers, good thoughts. I was overwhelmed with the amount of love we were shown. Doctor after doctor after nurse came in and thought he had been in a car accident, then when we said bike they thought motorcycle, and were shocked a bicycle accident could do this.

We don't know what happened. He was not alone, but he was riding behind his friend, so he saw nothing. Someone who was outside in her yard saw him flip over his handlebars, so we think a stick got caught in his wheel bringing his bike to a halt, but his body kept going. A doctor lived nearby. Another doctor was driving by and they both stopped and helped him out before the ambulance got there. And the fire engine. And the police. And my dad's friend, our friend, who went to make sure Lee would be okay, who knew to not share with us that Lee was lying in a pool of blood when he got there.

Now he heals. He will be okay. He has to have surgery on his wrist next week, and we have an appointment to check on his back tomorrow. It should heal without surgery or a brace. His nose will heal on his own. His stitches will dissolve. The memories, or lack of, will fade. He will get on a bike again, and he will do what he loves to do.

And never again will I forget to say goodbye. To say I love you. To say be careful.