It just doesn't stop...it's unbelievable.
Since the missionaries visited on the worst day possible, an unbelievable amount of things have gone horribly wrong.
I'm not even going to mention the dozens of small frustrations than have accompanied this move (lost wallet, lost watch, rooms reserved for the wrong night), I'm only going to mention the biggies....
Actually, let me just cut to the chase and go right to the grand finale....
This morning in a random South Carolina town, after an early morning jog with my dog, there was a knock on the hotel room door. When I opened it an unfamiliar man uncomfortably asked:
"Are you Kristine?"
"Yes."
"Your husband has been hit by a car on his bicycle..."
Well...he, in his friendly, Southern, Christian way, didn't want to lead me astray about what condition my man was in, but confirmed, at least, that Kevin had told him my name, so was somewhat coherent. I jumped in the man's car and soon saw in the distance fire trucks, ambulances and police cars holding up traffic.
Apparently a car to bicycle accident is big news on a Sunday morning in Carolina...not many other disasters going on since most folks are in church. My heart sank when I saw my man with his shirt cut off strapped to a back board with a neck brace.
He seemed pretty unfazed, telling me how okay he was, and instructing me to get a picture of the car that had hit him. It was like he had a black eye from a nasty fight but was saying, "You should see the other guy..."
Well, I didn't look then, distracted by the pool of blood on the pavement and the grimaces he was making, but the car did, in fact, look worse than he did. And the old man who had been driving, well he looked absolutely beat up and very distraught. In truth my husband didn't get hit by a car, he did the hitting, traveling at about 40 mph. The car is practically totaled.
Even laying strapped to the board he seemed to think he had come out on top. Of course this was before hospital personnel spent 30 minutes gingerly picking windshield glass from his back...and before the shock and adrenaline wore off. I'm not sure he'd agree with that assessment now....
So I soon found myself riding in a firetruck, clamping a destroyed bicycle to our car then wandering around a strange town trying to find the hospital where the ambulance had taken my man, not sure what condition he was in. There are times when you feel lonely, and then there are times when you are lonely....
Fortunately for me we were in the heart of the southern Bible belt. There were more bystanders doing their Christian duty than you could shake a stick at, we were blanketed with helpfulness. I for one, was happy to have the friendly assistance, although I cringed slightly when a hospital worker wanted to pray with my husband...not sure what words would come out of his mouth at that point. However, in his broken state he totally let her do it, and we all said a collective "amen" at the end.
For me it was more a sigh of relief because we knew we were lucky--or blessed--however you want to say it. He did come out on top. No one comes out of a crash with a totaled car, buckled bike frame, cracked helmet but not one broken bone or internal injury. Oh there's plenty of external injuries...I'm wincing every time I look at them, but they'll all heal with time...and, to quote one of my husbands mantras:
"Wounds heal...Chicks dig scars...Glory is forever"
Well, we had to get where we were going, and I figured there was no time like the present--Kevin in a comfortable, fairly happy, drugged condition--I'm pretty sure tomorrow he'll feel worse. I made it my mission to drive straight through the rest of the way to Montgomery, Alabama. It was not without incident, but we made it and are finally settled in.
The whole way we were inundated with friends calling and texting...offering to fly out or fly us wherever we needed to go...What could they do to help? It was nice to feel everyone rally.
I've just been told by a doc friend that I should wake up every two hours and check on him and have been implored by two other friends to get him the hell back to a hospital for observation. They're worried he may start going down like Natasha Richardson--"He was fine and then he suddenly dropped dead..."
So I have that to sleep on...
Hopefully I can get a quick 911 call out should things go south...or maybe I'll just yell for help--after all we're still in the Bible belt, presumably helpful Southern Christians are everywhere.
Thank God.
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