On Friday, Mr. M was at work (deputy sheriff) and running code (lights and sirens) to a structure fire - apparently, there was a fear that there might be people/kids inside. Some moron decided, instead of moving over when approached by an emergency vehicle, he’d just STOP. In the middle of the lane, with another vehicle oncoming. Tony hit the ditch instead of the stationary car. His car rolled and landed on the roof in a deep ditch. I think the K9 cage was the only thing that held the car together, but miraculously, both Tony and the dog came out alive and relatively okay.
We held our Christmas hullabaloo with the family on Thursday - Santa and grandmas and too much food and a big clean-up at the end of the day - so I was just barely awake when someone knocked on my front door Friday morning. When I checked the peep hole, I nearly had a heart attack - two uniformed officers - my worst nightmare about being married to a LEO. I was told “There’s been an accident, I’m here to help you get to the hospital.” No real information on how serious, but we rode with lights the whole way - fast. Cutting lanes once we reached city traffic near the trauma center. Tony’s mom called - it was on the news. Bad. (I was planning to call her as soon as I knew anything specific, since she lives 100 miles away, and usually watches the news from a different metro.) The chaplain who married us called before I got to the hospital - he lives even farther away than my in-laws. Crap. Really bad. Someone who knows better posted a picture of the car before I got to the hospital. Oh sweet Jesus this is bad. :eek:
Finally got to the hospital two hours after the wreck. The hospital chaplain and the current police chaplain met me at the door and walked me back (okay, followed me while I sprinted.) My sweet, sweet husband looked terrible, but he was alive and mostly coherent and alive. Conscious. Strapped down, cervical collar on, clothes cut off, big gash in his head, badly broken ankle, bumps, bruises, broken ribs, broken teeth, minor fractures here and there, and in a lot of pain. But alive. It took 45 minutes to cut him out of the car, he was airlifted to the hospital, but he was flirting with nurses and making bad jokes when he arrived, so I knew he was fundamentally okay. Alive. Not brain-injured. Not paralyzed. Not in danger of losing any limbs.
Since Friday, it’s been a long, weary slog of adjusting meds and surgery on his ankle and finding new injuries as the pain from another subsides due to treatment. His mom has already made herself sick due to no rest. My mom has been a rock, helping with kids and transportation (the hospital is about 60 miles from our home.) Tony’s colleagues have made me cry more than once, because of their generosity and willingness to do anything that we need. The Boy called a little while ago: the sergeant had just dropped groceries off at the house. We had to change out the chairs in Tony’s hospital room, because armchairs and service belts don’t mix, and there have been dozens of LEOs there, visiting, helping, bringing food and whoopie cushions and cards and flowers - anything they could think of. I walked out the door Friday with all the cash I had handy - $31. I left the hospital late Saturday night with about $100 in cash, gift cards for fuel and food and just plain Visa gift cards. I have a hotel suite nearby, so that the kids and the mamas and I can rest and shower and take shifts taking care of our impatient patient.
My sweetie is alive. He’s gonna be okay. Cool.
