Three Weeks
I wish I had something brilliant to say as I near the hour when three weeks ago police officers knocked on my door and asked if I was related to someone named Amacker.
That's how I first found out about Amacker's accident. I was sound asleep and heard female voices outside my window. In my complete drowsiness I didn't know what was going on and released the hounds... okay, I let out my very sweet and harmless weimaraner Paddington... hoping to scare away the pranksters on my porch. The officers remained calm and asked if I knew someone named Amacker. I sleepily said, "yes, she's my sister." They said she'd been in a serious accident, and that I needed to come to the hospital immediately.
With lights whirling they escorted me to the hospital, and I ran in to be greeted by multiple doctors asking very difficult questions, explaining very scary injuries.
Some of Amacker's friends were also in the Emergency room. Erin, Don and Tim had gone home to find her not there, and then went looking for her. They passed the scene of her accident, very near Amacker's house, and asked the crews working there if a yellow motorcycle had been involved. When they found out it was a yellow motorcycle and that the rider had been rushed to Stanford, they headed there as well.
And so we sat in an emergency room hoping Amacker would get through those first critical surgeries that would stabilize Amacker for the very long road she had ahead of her.
You know the rest of the story.
Tomorrow morning they'll try once again to make those lungs of hers fill all on their own. All day today she took breaths as she wanted to. The machine just put a little pressure behind them to fill her lungs, but only she chose when to breathe. The rate setting was turned off.
It may not be tomorrow. It may not be the next day. But some day very soon Amacker will take a deep breath all on her own, and very soon after that she'll ask, "Where am I?" and "Who's taking care of the bird?"
Tonight Nurse Jennifer is looking after her as she rests.
That's how I first found out about Amacker's accident. I was sound asleep and heard female voices outside my window. In my complete drowsiness I didn't know what was going on and released the hounds... okay, I let out my very sweet and harmless weimaraner Paddington... hoping to scare away the pranksters on my porch. The officers remained calm and asked if I knew someone named Amacker. I sleepily said, "yes, she's my sister." They said she'd been in a serious accident, and that I needed to come to the hospital immediately.
With lights whirling they escorted me to the hospital, and I ran in to be greeted by multiple doctors asking very difficult questions, explaining very scary injuries.
Some of Amacker's friends were also in the Emergency room. Erin, Don and Tim had gone home to find her not there, and then went looking for her. They passed the scene of her accident, very near Amacker's house, and asked the crews working there if a yellow motorcycle had been involved. When they found out it was a yellow motorcycle and that the rider had been rushed to Stanford, they headed there as well.
And so we sat in an emergency room hoping Amacker would get through those first critical surgeries that would stabilize Amacker for the very long road she had ahead of her.
You know the rest of the story.
Tomorrow morning they'll try once again to make those lungs of hers fill all on their own. All day today she took breaths as she wanted to. The machine just put a little pressure behind them to fill her lungs, but only she chose when to breathe. The rate setting was turned off.
It may not be tomorrow. It may not be the next day. But some day very soon Amacker will take a deep breath all on her own, and very soon after that she'll ask, "Where am I?" and "Who's taking care of the bird?"
Tonight Nurse Jennifer is looking after her as she rests.
3 Comments:
Hard to believe it's only been 3 weeks! She's come a long way in so little time. She is amazing!
I don't know Amacker --only from a post on Neil Gaiman's journal but I have been following this journal. Everything sounds good for Amacker to make the best possible recovery. Even though, I don't know you, Amacker or her family (including the extended family in friends), you all have my positive energies sent your way.
richard,
dear brother to the squirrely girl, i know three weeks watching her lay there with the tubes and all can seem like an eternity in a form of purgatory. know that, yes, we are all still praying, still chanting, still dancing, still whooping to the stars, still swinging dead cats or dead chickens or what-not 'round all our respective heads to bring her back from the brink (i know one particular parrot many would like to swing, but we'll hold off on that for now ;oD ).
take courage and hope, friend. and here's a song for her and you and her family, to give you some strengh.
and for when she's awake and can hear this, here are some for her —
here's one.
here's another.
and still another.
take heart.
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