Hitting the Wall

It's a running term.  When running a long distance race, runners often describe the point where they 'hit the wall.'  Meaning they feel like they just can't go any further, their body is giving up, they want to quit.  But in most cases, mind over matter works and somehow, someway, they just keep going.  They push and cry and wince in pain, but they get over that wall and cross the finish line.  Victorious.

This story is a little different.  No proverbial wall of which you can mentally break through or climb over.  But an actual wall.  One made of bricks, real... cinder block...bricks.

November 17th

Doug and I had just got back from our amazing Hawaiian get a way and I was floating through the cold Washington air smiling.  We got home around 2 am Wednesday morning still covered in the salt of the Pacific Ocean.  That night I headed off to mutual sporting a cute little Hanauma Bay tshirt and a tan!  It was a combined activity night and Wiffle Ball was the game of choice.  We divided into teams...boys against girls...decided where the bases would be in our little gym and started things up.  We got through the first couple of innings and us lovely ladies were up by a few runs. (Yes we were boys...no arguing.)  The boys were up to bat and somehow I ended up being the pitcher for this inning.  I'm not sure how many boys had been up to bat when my little 'accident partner' came up.  He hit the ball right back to me, I got to it pretty quickly, snatched it up and  took off running at a full sprint.  I was pretty determined and had a little internal battle with myself 'throw the ball to the person on 1st base, or continue to chase him down to tag him out'.  Well, I decided to chase him down and tag him out.  I was almost there, I saw him...reached for him...and that was the last thing I remember.

What had happened? Well, apparently just before I got to the youngin he tripped and fell to the ground...then I tripped over him sending myself flying head first into the corner of the brick wall. I dropped to the floor (or rather on top of the poor chap) unconscious.  From the reports of those there it was...scary.  One of the leaders (Mr. Andy Marshall) got to me first.  He rolled me over and was pretty surprised at the growths that had immediately formed on my forehead and right eye.  He was a little freaked out at one thing in particular.  There was a strange round formation just above the outer corner of my eye in which he feared was the result of my eye being out of the socket.  (It wasn't)  Accompanying that was a yellow brownish liquid leaking out of my eye.  I was also making some very strange grunting and snorting noises. They cleared all the youth out of the gym and ushered them into the Relief Society room, where, with no leader to prompt them, they prayed for me.
Another leader, Ben, who happens to be a State Patrol officer bypassed 911 and called his buddies at dispatch and my friend Jill made the call to my husband and got an ice pack.
My Bishop and Andy were at my side, trying to get me to answer questions and after coming to, they tried to keep me that way.  I can't really describe what I was feeling.  I remember coming to and seeing my Bishop to the left of me and hearing  my name being called in the distance. In a way it felt like I was dreaming.  I had no idea what was going on and I just couldn't figure it out.  The harder I tried to figure it out the more scared I became.  Nothing was making sense.  In those moments, I did the only thing that did make sense...I started to pray.  I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that I needed my Heavenly Father.  And those men kneeling beside me knew that I needed Him too, so they gave me a blessing. I can't tell you the actual feelings that everyone was having in those moments.  But from what they have told me, what I have heard, they were scared for my life. 
The paramedics arrived, got a neck brace on me, strapped me to the stretcher and rolled me out to the ambulance.  A few minutes later, my husband was there.  When he got the call from Jill, he had just put the kids to bed.  So, he got them back up, loaded them in the car and did about 95 to get to me 15 minutes away.  By the time he got there, things were making a little more sense.  I heard him call my name when he got into the ambulance and I couldn't help but cry.  It was such a relief to have him there with me, to feel his hand in mine.  I needed him. 
My friend, Jill, took my kids home and Doug and Bishop followed me to the hospital.  The next few hours were spent vomiting (which is extremely hard to do with a neck brace on) getting catscans and waiting.  The strange round thing on the corner of my eye had by this point gone away. Text messages had been sent out to several of my friends who rushed to my side.  I don't remember a lot of the conversations that were had, but I remember being so thankful that they were there.  So thankful that I had them.  I love them.  I was also so thankful to have Bishop there.  I remember seeing him at the foot of my bed and it bringing me a lot of comfort.  I think he even squeezed my toe at one point, maybe just to let me know he was there.  I love that man. 

Doug wasn't shy about taking pictures with his phone and told me I would thank him later.  Which is true.  Who wouldn't want to document this??  He also teased me about looking like a Klingon. 

The results of the catscans were that I had 3 facial fractures (eye socket, sinus and cheekbone).  No bleeding or swelling on my brain and my spine was fine.  Along with the fractures...a pretty severe concussion.  The doctors there felt it necessary to transport me to Harborview hospital in Seattle, 2 hours away because of their excellence in facial injuries.  So, they prepared me for transport. (Which meant another uncomfortable neck brace) Let me tell you...I was locked and loaded. They strapped me in so tight, I wasn't budging for the biggest bump we might hit on the way.  Back into the ambulance I went.

Doug headed home to grab a few things and to check on the kids and then started the drive up to Seattle. (It was now about 2 AM) My friend, Heidi releaved Jill of her kid watching duties and ended up staying the night with them. 

To say that I was uncomfortable on this little ride would be an understatement.  I was in pain, and they were still giving me pain meds and anti nausea meds, but my body was hurting.  Being strapped to a stretcher for 2 hours stinks!  I started complaining to the paramedic about my spine and tailbone and he had pity for me.  He ended up tilting the stretcher on its side, taking the pressure off my spine.  Oh, sweet relief.  The next few hours consisted of doctors and interns coming in and out of my little curtained room asking me the same questions over and over checking my vision and giving me more and more medicine through my 2 iv's.  I felt miserable and so cloudy headed.  The doctors informed me that they were pretty sure that I was going to need surgery to repair my cheekbone.  I was to come in a week later to talk details with the surgeons.   

 They cleared me to go home but I couldn't really lift my head off the pillow from the dizziness and Doug wasn't ready to drive back.  He was absolutely exhausted having had only 4 hours of sleep the night before.  So, they let us sleep for a few more hours, even bringing my hubs a small somewhat reclining chair in replacement of a plastic one.  A bit later, I got checked out, wheeled out and headed back home.  I made sure that I had a container to vomit in...just in case. 

As we drove I tried to wrap my head around what had happened.  Tried to remember the details.  It was too much for my dizzied brain.  I had no idea what to expect from all this.  And I had no idea that this was only the beginning.


To be continued...