Diaries I Read:
There are a few moments in time that are forever burned into my mind. One is the picture of the American flag being snapped open in front of my grandfather�s casket at his burial.
Another is B lying face down across the trampoline, the top of his head shoved up under the protective padding around the edges, his arms bent up like he�d tried to break the fall, and him saying, �I can�t move.�
At first I thought he was kidding. Then he said my name, with a little more panic in his voice, and repeated it: �I can�t move.�
I ran into the house and grabbed the phone, all the time praying � �Please, God, don�t let this happen. Please let him be OK. Please, God, please let him be OK.� I dialed 911. It didn�t start ringing. I dialed again, and an operator answered. �I need an ambulance,� I said.
�One moment,� she said, and transferred me. Someone else answered. �I need an ambulance,� I repeated. They told me one was on its way. Then she started asking questions � is the victim male or female, how old, is he still on the trampoline, did he lose consciousness, etc. Before I hung up the phone, I could hear the sirens.
My co-worker, Julie, held B�s head still. She didn�t let go until the paramedics took over. Somebody asked for a washcloth because B was complaining his nose hurt, being squished on the bed of the trampoline.
B�s memory of this moment was looking down through two springs of the trampoline and seeing the grass beneath him. He says he could see his fingers but knew he couldn�t move them. He felt like his legs were bent up behind him, but we could all see that he was lying flat. �Why can�t I move?� he asked me. I don�t remember if, or how, I answered.
During those first moments, before I even called 911, my whole life flashed before my eyes. �My husband is never going to walk again,� I thought. �He�s going to be a paraplegic for the rest of his life.� "We're never going to have children." "I wish I'd gotten pregnant before."
Then I started thinking of insane things, like hiding the empty beer bottles (we�d only had a couple, as the party had just started, but I guess I thought it would look bad to the paramedics). My neighbor popped his head up over the wall and asked if he could help. At first I said no, but then I handed Dixie to him over the wall. We didn�t need her running around and barking when the paramedics arrived. I ran inside and got a blanket to cover B with, since I thought he might go into shock. My boss was underneath the trampoline talking to B from below. I asked another friend to open the garage door and wait for the ambulance.
We could hear the roar of the fire engine coming up the street. It passed us on the street above and I tried to wave to show them where we were. They got there so fast. It could only have been about three minutes.
By the time they arrived, B had wiggled his hands and his feet. My fears were relieved a tiny degree. They came in through the gate to the backyard. There were at least seven or eight of them. I think they were from the fire department. They started asking B questions, had him squeeze their hands, wiggle his feet, etc. Another one had a clipboard and started asking me questions � his name, age, height, weight, birthdate. I gave them the wrong birthdate. I stood there with my hands clasped in front of my chin the whole time. Maybe I was still praying. Julie looked me in the eye and mouthed, �He�s going to be OK.�
They put a cervical collar on him and got him strapped to the backboard. It was hard to maneuver on the trampoline without moving him. Then they took him out to the ambulance, which was waiting on the street in front of our house.
My friends told me they�d clean up and lock up the house. Obviously my mind still wasn�t working straight because I said, �You guys can stay and hang out.� Crazy thinking. I guess I was hoping we�d go to the hospital and they�d send him home.
I grabbed my purse. Somebody asked if I had a sweater or jacket. I said that was a good idea and started heading up the stairs. I picked up a sweatshirt that was lying on the stairs, but it wasn�t mine. �Just take that one,� somebody said.
Out on the street, all of the neighbors were gathered around with worried looks on their faces. One of the paramedics escorted me to the passenger seat of the ambulance. He leaned in and put my seatbelt on me. �Wow, he�s done this before,� I thought. �I wouldn�t even have thought of my own seatbelt.� There was a little plastic window through which I could see B and the paramedics in the back. They had already given him an IV, but that�s all I could see. Later, B said that he hadn�t even known I was in the ambulance with him.
The driver of the ambulance was young. There was a pack of spearmint gum in the cup holder. I asked if I could have some and took a piece.
One of the neighbors came up to the window and motioned for me to roll it down. I don�t remember what she said, but she was crying a little bit.
The ambulance driver tried to make conversation with me. I told him that the trampoline was my idea, that B had bought it for me for Christmas, that he hadn�t wanted to get one but that I�d made a fuss about it. He said, �Don�t do that to yourself. This is no one�s fault.�
The ambulance started rolling away. There was a dispatcher that gave the driver step-by-step directions, but it was easier for me to point the way. It felt like a very, very long drive to the hospital.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004