Chapter 9 A Change in the Outlook
I made a pit stop at my townhouse for some clean clothes, showered, shaved, changed and headed back to Ali's home. I was on a high. Last night and this morning had been an amazing experience and I wanted more. Ali made it plain that she wanted more as well. Considering how my world had collapsed less than a year ago, it seemed incredible that I could recover this quickly.
I'm not sure why I decided to take the Malibu instead of the Escape. I guess I was thinking it could use an outing since I hadn't been driving it much this year. I probably wasn't paying attention the way I should have been as I drove along two lane Scenic Drive. The last thing I expected or remembered was a very large jacked-up pickup truck backing out onto the road directly in front of me. I vaguely remember trying to dodge around it, but then ... nothing.
My next memory was a very groggy feeling and lying on my back in a firm bed. I looked around when I finally got my eyes to focus and saw what I dreaded. I was in hospital and I had several tubes and wires connected to me. I didn't bother to explore which went where. I was having trouble just staying awake, not to mention trying to breathe. No one was in the room with me and I had a tube in my throat that kept me from calling out.
I lay there feeling sorry for myself. I took little comfort from the fact that I knew my name and where I was. The clock on the wall read seven-twenty and since there appeared to be sunlight outside my window, I assumed it was morning. That meant I had been here since late Saturday morning ... at least. I couldn't raise my head, but I could see a tent over my left leg. On top of that, the pain in my chest was worse when I tried to move. That was not a good sign. I guess I should be grateful that my brain seemed to be operating properly.
As I tried to reconstruct what had happened to me, I remember a very big, jacked-up, black pickup truck back out right in front of me. I had no time to swerve around him and the last thing I could think of was that I was going to end up hitting the truck. From that moment to this, I had no other recollection. I lay back in the bed and tried to make myself comfortable. I felt little pain, other than in my chest and face. I tried to touch my cheek, but I finally realized it was bandaged on the right side. I willed myself to be calm and wait for someone to come and tell me what had happened.
I remained awake and could hear carts being moved back and forth outside my room. I assumed I was in ICU, based on all the wires and tubes. I tried again to calm down and wait for a doctor or nurse to look in on me. At least I was still alive.
It was just before eight o'clock when someone finally walked into the room. The lack of a stethoscope led me to think this man wasn't a doctor. It turned out I was wrong.
"Good to see you're awake, Mr. ... Rideout," he paused as he checked my chart. He walked to the moveable table and brought me a drink of water with a straw. He didn't offer it to me, but left the room, promising to return quickly.
He did so with a nurse in tow, and they proceeded to remove the tube from my throat. I felt like they were taking a fire hose out of there, but it was just a small plastic tube.
"Thank you," I scrawked as a small drink of water helped restore my voice. "By the look of things, it's good to be awake."
"Ah ... even better. A sense of humor. I'm Dr. Menard. You're in Intensive Care and it looks like you'll be with us for a while."
"What's wrong with me? I remember the accident ... or at least just before I hit."
"It's quite a long list. As I understand it, you collided with a large truck. It crushed the top of your car and you sustained quite a few upper body injuries. Your left leg is broken, but not too badly. However, you have several broken or cracked ribs, a punctured lung, a broken right wrist, and a number of cuts to your face. We haven't yet found any evidence of other internal injuries. It would appear the airbags did their job, up to a point. However, a piece of metal, either from the truck or your vehicle, pierced the bag and that's what caused the rib and lung injuries."
"Holy shit!" I murmured. "Am I going to recover? Am I going to be all right?"
"Undoubtedly," he smiled, followed by the nurse as she stood by. "I suspect, however, you are going to need some restorative surgery on the right side of your face. It has sustained quite a bit of damage. However, there are doctors with those special skills and I'm sure they can have you looking almost normal."
"Almost? What does that mean?"
"What people mistakenly call plastic surgery is not a complete restoration of your regular features. You won't look like something from a horror movie, but there will be some evidence of the work in the form of scar tissue."
I closed my eyes and let my breath out. What would I look like when this was all over with? How bad would it be? And Ali? What would she think? Would she still want to be anywhere near me? That brought a question immediately.
"Have my family been notified? I have a son and daughter ... and my parents. They need to know. My girlfriend too," I said, almost panicking.
"Calm down, Mr. Rideout. I'm sure the police have notified your family. The reason they are not here is because we would only allow them into ICU when you woke. Who would you like to see? I'll allow no more than two people at a time, however."
"My children. My parents. They need to know I'm alive and I'm going to recover."
"I'm sure they're in the hospital waiting area by now. I'll have someone locate them and bring them up."
"Thank you," I said, my panic subsiding.
It was ten minutes later that my mother and father came in, walking very carefully, a look of fear on my mother's face.
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Sorry I can't get up," I joked.
"Oh, Graham, I'm so relieved you're alive," my mother said through her tears. I reached for her hand with my one free arm, complete with plastic cast on the wrist. She touched it so gently, I barely felt it.
"Yeah ... still alive, but not yet kicking. Did anyone tell you what happened? All I remember is a honkin' big truck backing out in front of me."
"Yeah ... that was it, all right," Dad said. "The police officer I talked to said some kid was backing out of his girlfriend's driveway, talking to her as he leaned out the window. The next thing he knew, he was being shoved down the road by the impact."
"Was he hurt?" I asked.
"Not a scratch. But he totaled your Malibu and his truck has a bent frame. The police will charge him with careless driving. We're just thankful you're alive and will recover. It was touch and go for a while there last night."
"It was?" I said in surprise. "The doctor didn't mention that. I know my lung was punctured and ribs broken."
"Yeah, well I guess they were worried about internal injuries and bleeding. Thank God you came through it."
While Dad and I talked, my mother had sat by with a horrified look on her face. It was going to be a while before she calmed down, but I knew Dad well enough that he could help bring her back to normal.
