As I sat in the lumber yard office, my broken arm in a makeshift sling the workers had made for me out of shrink wrap, my cell phone began to ring. The manager fished it from my jacket pocket and handed it to me. It was my boss, Nick.
"Jason, I know you're hurt, but is there any way you could drive the truck back to the warehouse?"
"Are you crazy?" I yelled into the phone. "My right arm is useless. It hurts to even move it! It even hurts to breathe! No way I can shift gears with this arm. You want me to drive it 250 miles? Why would you even ask something like that? I'm waiting for an ambulance right now. The truck is the LEAST of my worries. FUCK YOU!" Angrily, I hung up the phone.
I don't remember much of the ambulance ride. It was short. The hospital was a half mile away. Once I arrived in the emergency room, I had priority over everybody else. My injury, though not life threatening, was by far the most severe.
I remember them taking me for X rays. The tech photographed my arm in every position known to mankind, and some that were not possible for a normal human. "Turn this way. Turn that way," she ordered. I wanted to strangle her. Every twist and turn caused excruciating pain. I was going out of my mind. Eventually, they had to sedate me. From that point on, I really don't remember much at all.
When I awoke, it was night, judging from the lack of light in the window. I was in a hospital bed. They'd removed my clothing and put me in a hospital gown. It was the pain that woke me. I heard sobbing and looked around as my eyes focused. Shavonda was sitting beside the bed, crying her eyes out. "Honey, I forgot to duck," I said, hoping she'd get the reference and smile a little.
"You stupid, stupid man," Shavonda said. "Thank God you're alive. I heard what happened. They said that curtain pole saved your life. It took the full force of that rebar when it sprang. I can't lose you. I just can't."
I let her vent. What could I do? She was right. I was lucky to be alive, although the pain had me questioning that luck. Shavonda continued. "We drove almost 5 hours to get here to see you all busted up. I hope you're happy."
"I'm happy you're here," I gritted. God the pain! It was unbearable. Even the slightest movement would send my arm into uncontrollable spasms. I looked down at my left hand. They'd put an IV needle in it while I was out. I'm glad they did it. I'm afraid of needles and would probably have freaked out if they'd tried to do that while I was awake.
Shavonda got up to leave the room. "I'll be right back," she said.
She returned with the nurse, who remarked, "You're quite a popular fellow. There's quite a crowd out there waiting to see you." She busied herself taking my blood pressure. "We.ve got you on a morphine drip. If the pain gets too great, just press this button." She showed me a push button mounted in the end of a cable. "It will give you a little extra shot of morphine, but you can only use it once in a while. We can't have you overdosing."
After the nurse left, Althea and Barbara came in with the children. Brittany ran to me and tried to give me a hug, but Shavonda caught her. "He can't hug you right now," she said. "You'll hurt him."
The hospital had let the family come in, even though it was well after normal visiting hours. I found out that Shavonda had left the new store as soon as she'd gotten my phone call. On the way she called Althea, who in turn called Barbara. Together they decided to make the trip to Lewistown to see me. Since that weekend would have been Barbara's with the kids, she came along as well. Lewistown was not far from Muncy, where my ex-wife Rose was serving time, and this would be a good opportunity for the kids to see their mother. Althea was along for moral support, and to watch the baby while Shavonda sat by my bedside. They had rooms in a nearby motel for the night.
The nurse soon ushered everybody but Shavonda out of the room. They left for the motel. At least somebody would be getting a good night's sleep. I tossed and turned in pain, while Shavonda held my hand. She fell asleep in the chair beside the bed. It reminded me of when she'd had Miracle, and I spent her entire hospital stay with her, curled up in the same bed while the nurses looked the other way.
In the morning, the doctor came to see me after the nurse took my blood pressure. "Would you please step out of the room?" he asked Shavonda. "I can only discuss his condition with the patient and family." Shavonda gave the doctor a withering look, and refused to leave the chair she was seated in.
"That's my wife," I said, "She has every right to be here."
The doctor's face turned red. "OH, I'm sorry," he said. "We don't see many mixed marriages around here." Shavonda continued to glare at him. I felt bad for her. We ran into that a lot, people not understanding that we were one. It hurt, to be honest. It had to hurt worse for Shavonda, the attitude that she didn't belong there. Go back to your neighborhood, with your own kind. You don't belong here. But belong she did. She wasn't leaving. And yet another person bore witness to the strength of our love.
The doctor recovered from his shock, then continued, "Mr. Waite, your X rays show 3 fractures in your arm right above the elbow. There is no way I can put them in a cast and let them heal by themselves. That area is under constant strain from your movements, and the injury is too bad. We'll have to perform surgery and put your arm back together with plates."-
"When will he go into surgery?" Shavonda asked.
"We were going to do it this morning, but his blood pressure is too low. We'll have to wait until it comes back to normal. I'm hoping we can do it tomorrow. At any rate, after we operate, we'll hold him 24 hours for the anesthetic to wear off, and for observation. Then he can go home. He's got a long road to recovery. You're looking at months of physical therapy, and he may never regain full use of his arm. Good luck to the both of you."
Althea and Miracle came to see me a little later, Miracle was glad to see me and babbled happily "Dada, Dada." She wanted to come up on the bed with me and howled in protest when she couldn't.
"Daddy's hurt," Shavonda explained." He can't hold you right now." She bounced the little girl on her knee while Miracle howled in protest. After calming the baby down, she told Althea what the doctor had said. I was too exhausted, and in too much pain, to do much but lie there. The morphine drip helped take the edge off the pain, but not much more than that.
Later in the day, Nick showed up with Frank, one of our drivers. They'd come to get the truck. Shavonda left with them to retrieve my stuff before they drove it back to Leetsdale. One more loose end tied up.
Later in the evening, Barbara brought the kids by. They'd made the trip up to Muncy to visit their mother, "Rose asked about the child support case," she discretely told Shavonda.
"We missed the hearing back when Jason's grandma died," Shavonda said. "Tell her we'll refile the request. Honestly, with all that's been going on we forgot about it. But Jason's going to be off work for a while, so we'll have the time to go to court now. She shouldn't worry. We'll take care of it."
Shavonda spent the night in the chair beside the bed, holding my hand all night as I moaned in pain. It was a long night, and I was glad she was there. In the morning, the nurse took my blood pressure again, and when the doctor arrived he said it was back to normal. They'd do the surgery in a couple of hours. Due to the anesthetic, I had to have an empty stomach. Tell a man he can't eat, and he'll feel like he's dying of hunger.
A little later, a nurse came in to give me a sponge bath. I let her wash me up, until she asked me to sit up so she could wash my back. "You don't want to go into surgery dirty, do you?" she asked.
"My arm is broken, and the pain is unbearable," I gritted. The nurse didn't care and insisted on washing my back anyway. Shavonda drove her from the room with threats of bodily harm if she touched me. The last thing I remember as they wheeled me into the operating room was Shavonda telling me everything would be ok, and that she'd be there when I woke up.
I vaguely remember waking up in the operating room. Not knowing where I was I tried to get off the gurney, but several people pushed me back down. I think I must have been in the recovery room at the time.
When I finally awoke, my queen was there. This time she was smiling. "How's my cripple this morning?" she said. I'd been out all day and most of the night.
"Hungry," I said. Shavonda called for the nurse, who said I could have something to eat. Unfortunately, it was four in the morning, and I'd have to wait for breakfast.
"Are there any restrictions on what he can eat?" Shavonda asked.
"No," came the reply, and Shavonda disappeared. She returned a short time later with a turkey hoagie and a bottle of Dr Pepper.
"Sorry," she apologized, "Sheetz was the only thing open. I hope you like it. I promise we'll stop somewhere good for lunch when they release you."
Eating posed a problem. My right arm was encased in a large cast. Shavonda had to open my Dr Pepper for me, and she unwrapped the hoagie as well, feeding me like I was a baby. I felt helpless and loved. I ate the whole hoagie, but I was still hungry. Luckily by now it was breakfast time, and so I ate the hospital food they gave me as well.
Later in the day, after the anesthetic wore off, they let me go. They had given me what they called a "Carter pillow" which was a huge block of foam with a hole in it where my arm fit. It provided some cushioning for my injured arm. I was also given a supply of Vicodin for pain management, but Shavonda whispered in my ear, "You ain't gonna be taking those. I got something better for you." She wouldn't elaborate further no matter how hard I tried. I must admit I was irritable. My arm was still going into uncontrollable spasms of excruciating pain.
We headed out, down 22 the whole way back to Pittsburgh. We found a diner in Mill Creek and stopped for dinner. I think we must have taken them by surprise, two cars of people pulling up, Three women of different races, a cripple, and three small children. The waitress came over to fawn over Miracle, who laughed. The waitress did a visible double take when she saw Miracle's eyes. Most people don't expect a mixed-race child to have blue-gray eyes. She looked at the baby, then me.
"Yes, she's got my eyes," I laughed.
We all had burgers and fries. The place cut their own potatoes. I was in love. Fresh cut fries have always been my weakness. Shavonda insisted on feeding me, even though I could do it myself. But it did feel nice to be pampered. The kids tore up their plates as well. We'd have to come back some day.
