vehicles

SOME KIND OF ACCIDENT?

“Ow!  That hurts my back,” I groaned, not knowing where I was, who was moving me or why.  Aware of bright lights, sirens and men’s voices, I heard someone say, while enclosing my neck in a brace, “Broken neck, possible broken leg.”  I thought, “Are they talking about me?  I don’t want a broken leg, much less a broken neck.”  I had no way of knowing what had happened, but suddenly the thought ran through my mind that I had been in some kind of accident.

Across the inside of my head stretched a blackboard which appeared to be blank.  Slowly, printed in white, as if someone were writing with chalk, there flashed a phone number.  Call my son,” I mumbled, repeating the numbers before me.  Then, as surely as I knew Keith’s phone number, I repeated both Ken’s and my HMO medical numbers.   “I have a pacemaker and my husband has severe Alzheimer’s.  Don’t let him wander away,” I added, somehow knowing he would need all of the important information.  “Can you tell me your name and birth date?” another voice asked.  I answered his question and gave him Ken’s name and birth date as well, then faded into an unconscious place.

Obviously, the driver of the maverick car did not correct as I had assumed.  Instead, his vehicle must have remained in the diagonal line aimed in my direction.  I was like a sitting duck in a shooting gallery, the trajectory of his set course was fixed on me.  He couldn’t miss.  In retrospect, who could have known he had spent the afternoon drinking and was drunk out of his mind?   Authorities could only calculate the speed of his car as it broadsided my SUV just behind the driver’s seat.  Out of control, the maverick bounced off before slamming once again into the rear of my vehicle, spinning it wildly before coming to a stop — facing in a southerly direction.

Inside, I had been unaware of  impact, the first blow no doubt knowking me out cold.  I can only speculate on what followed.  The seat belt, which I had buckled, failed.  I believe it retracted on impact, and in so doing snapped the metal-locking end into my lip, cutting it just left of my nose at the same time knocking out one bottom tooth.  The air bag deployed, but without the seat belt holding me in place it was ineffective.  Lacking any restraint, I became air born and was somehow hurled through the driver’s side window onto the street where I lay until paramedics arrived.  (By comparison, Ken’s injuries were minor, but still required several days of observation in the hospital.  Restrained, confused, combative and unhappy, our concerned children insisted he be released for better care at home).

While my family waited and worried outside the trauma unit, I was finally stablized by a group of dedicated and extraordinarily skilled doctors following an hour and a half  of intense effort.  Medically, I was a mess.  The team of professionals battled shut-down kidneys, stabilization worries; there were cuts, contusions, blood loss, massive bruising, broken ribs, a broken neck, head fracture with concussion and I had inhaled glass shards while exiting through the closed window  They worried I could suffer a stroke or be paralyzed as the neck fracture was a top vertebrae protecting vital areas and nerves which commanded life itself.

During a moment of consciousness I requested a blessing of healing from the clergy of my church.  Their anointing words of comfort, hope and promise fell upon me like a warm blanket on a cold night.  Finding peace among the turmoil I also found rest, allowingy myself to let go and let God further work His  miracles.  When awareness allowed me to ponder, I reviewed my broken and bruised body and while I will never dismiss the seriousness of my many and varied injuries, I am still amazed that I only suffered a broken neck, head fracture and broken ribs.  In actuality, I should be dead.  I can only believe there must be some part of my life’s mission which has not been completed.  Why else would Heavenly guided unseen hands cushion my descent to the pavement?

Originally posted 2010-05-09 00:35:36.

A NEW YEAR AND THE YOUNG SLEUTHS

 In some of my previous posts I’ve mentioned having to search for things — mail, keys, TV remotes and any number of objects Ken acquires and hides.  Taking and hiding is typical behavior of victims of Alzheimer’s; part of the paranoia I suppose,  and my searching continues.  I’ve noticed as his disease worsens he becomes less aware of others around him.  He doesn’t notice me standing to one side as he hides a stack of magazines under a toss pillow on the sofa   Nor is he as clever in choosing his hiding places as he once was.  Ken now has more of an “out of sight, out of mind” attitude as he tucks things away.  My detective work is much easier than it was when letters and bills were hidden in books and then placed back on a shelf.

I suppose we could say living with an Alzheimer’s patient brings out the sleuth in many caregivers, and more often than not it is a necessity.  Of course, having been a parent has been uppermost in learning subtle detective work of a different kind when rearing a family, especially when dealing with evasive teens.

However, my parental investigations, or searching for hidden objects in my own home have been overshadowed, and are nothing compared to the gumshoe work done by  granddaughter Kristina and her boyfriend Chris these past few days.

Lately, the fates have not been kind to her.  Her mother, living far away in Utah, can only console her by reminding the young woman that bad things come in threes, and if that’s true, her quota has been filled.  First of all she had a fender bender which put her car out of commission.  Second, she lost her job, and three nights ago someone broke into Chris’s pickup and stole Kris’s purse — and his brother’s backpack.  Every important paper or card she owned was in the purse, including her keys.

Alerted, I thought of having the locks changed as our address is on many of Kris’s papers, but a quick phone call from her the following day informed me that someone had found her purse with her keys still inside.

The theft had taken place a few blocks from Jack London Square in Oakland where the police took the report.  Sorrowfully, the officers concluded the crime was considered a petty theft and they had no manpower to do any follow up.  A homeless man found the purse in San Francisco and called Kris on her cell.  The three (Kris, Chris and the homeless man) agreed to meet near a donut shop off Market Street.  Rewarding him generously, Kris shuffled through the remaining contents finding several important documents missing, including her driver’s license and ATM card. 

Reporting the ATM card as stolen, the bank read them a list where there had been attempted use and refusals.  Determined to find the culprit, the two were allowed to view  tapes from the businesses where use attempts had been made, which included places in Oakland, San Francisco and Vallejo. Their conclusion:  the thief lives in Vallejo. 

“Everyone was so helpful,” said Kris, “but the tapes we have viewed so far were not clear enough for identification, nor could we make out the license number from his stop at a gas station.”  And the search continues.

Their goal is to catch him on tape swiping the card, and hopefully a good tape will show the license plate of the car.  The police have said if Kris and Chris can find that kind of conclusive evidence the accused party will be arrested.

I admire the young sleuths their tenacity and great detective work, and the fact they are still “hot on the trail.”  If there is a positive epilogue I will surely report it here.

Searching every shelf in my home, hunting through all of the drawers, and shaking books to find what Ken has secreted away doesn’t begin to compare to their diligent hard work, but despite her loss this has been an “entertaining” saga for me to share.  It tells me, once again, that life goes on even in the homes of Alzheimer’s patients and their caregivers.  And while having a young life temporarily turned topsy-turvy with some of fate’s mishaps their adventure, while frustrating for them, makes me feel “normal,” as if I’m still involved in and am part of the world out there.

My New Year’s wish for Kris is that she gets her car fixed, finds a great job, and all of her important papers, somehow, show up.  In addition, I wish for them a champion’s feather in their caps for effort – and in the end justice.  I hope they catch the bad guy.

Originally posted 2011-01-11 05:04:36.

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