Perspective Before the Fast

Before D1 left for her senior year at UF, her little puppy peed on our floors a lot. I found myself getting very angry, especially when our Bassett Hound (with an Olympic sized bladder) decided to compete with her in this regard. I'd mostly yell at Wifey: "Does it make me such a crochtety old man that I want to live in a house free from the smell of dog piss???!!!"

Yesterday, I was in my office, deciding what to have for lunch. I got a call from D1, and we chatted happily. I told her how much I missed her, since I hadn't seen each other since mid August, and we were never without contact for more than a month. She told me she'd be coming home in October. We said goodbye.

About 30 minutes later, my cell phone showed another call from her, but the voice was unfamiliar. "Hi David, this is Lindsay. D1 was going to surprise you by coming home this weekend. We just had a bad accident. She can't talk. Someone called 911..."

I started moving towards my car as she spoke. It turned out that they'd made it all the way to the exit south of Delray Beach, when the crash happened. Apparently, D1 was distracted, lost control, and struck the median concrete barrier. She was in shock, but not bleeding, and she was conscious. The paramedics were taking her to Delray Hospital.

I called Dr. Eric. With his typical calm and competence, he called his head nurse there, and told him about D1's impending arrival. I made it from my Brickell office to the hospital in about 40 minutes. As I passed the crash site, they were loading the white Volvo onto a flat bed truck. There was a lot of damage, but it wasn't one of those wrecks where you say "Oh Lord --no one could have survived that!"

I saw D1. She was in pain in her back and right hand. Dr. Eric arrived, and took control. He called an orthopedic surgeon he knew who had the day off. He spoke with the ER doc, a nice young fellow recently moved from New Jersey.

It turned out that D1 had 2 broken fingers, and a compression fracture in her L1 (lowest) lumbar vertebra. The back fracture should heal on its own in about 2 months (with pain), but shouldn't cause a problem. The hand, according to the pulled off the golf course surgeon, needed surgery when the swelling went down.

About 6 pm, we left the hospital. Wifey had met Lindsey, D1's friend, and fetched the puppy. We headed for Eric and Dana's house for some Gatorade and pasta, to replenish the starving 20 year old accident victim.

Bette Midler sang it right when she said you gotta have friends. Eric was there for us big time. He turned a frightening ordeal into an almost happy occasion. He was there for me when my father died, in 1982. Yesterday was a much, much better day...

I called Dr. Lew, who is a hand surgeon. He said he was coming to our house!!! to see D1 and her X rays. He arrived at 830 this am, and popped the X ray DVD into the computer, then looked at the hand. His opinion: no surgery needed, just 6 weeks of therapy. As he said, D1 WAS a surgical candidate, but he felt the operation would just "produce a prettier X ray." In other words, her function would be the same (he expects a full return) and the surgery would leave her with a scar.

So, Wifey and D1 are headed up to Dr. Lew's office Monday to see his OT and get s splint. Hopefully we'll be able to take D1 back to UF, and Wifey can stay with her there for a bit, helping her get around until she recovers some more.

About an hour ago, two of D1s friends came by, with sweets and flowers. Hillary came home from Gainesville for Yom Kippur, and Kerry flew down, also for the holiday, from U Maryland. As I type, they're in D1's room, laughing and catching up on gossip. I said hello, and walked down the hall, not showing them my tears of happiness, my tears of gratitude.

Madeleine the puppy peed on our dining room rug, as well as on our bedroom carpet. I stepped in it, and felt the cold, wetness on my toes. I giggled like a young girl.