It was a pleasant June day by Louisiana weather standards. It was warm, but definitely bearable for anyone who has lived here and is used to the weather at this time of year. I was saddling up Mistral for my annual trail ride. When we moved to Covington from Kenner, I thought I was going to turn into a cowboy. For my first Christmas in the country I wanted western boots, a hat, and jacket. I pictured myself riding horses daily and herding cattle and all the other stuff you see on TV. It didn't take long for me to dump that wardrobe and continue playing baseball rather than tend to my mule. So now my equine activities consisted of around one ride per year when there was nothing else to do on that particular day. My mother was tacking up her horse Poco. He was the dream horse. Just perfect. Exactly what she has been looking for. It had been six months since the crash, and she had ridden him a few times in the yard, but this was going to be the first time taking him outside the fence. I guess that was my main motivation for deciding to tag along on this ride. Of course there was nothing else to do, but I did want to be there for the first real ride after the accident.
Our neighbors Dan and Crystal were in route to our house via horseback. They were going to join us on our little adventure through the trails. Crystal had just got a new horse named Shakespeare and Dan was on his trusty friend Roulette. The offer to swap horses with Crystal was put on the table so I could see how the new horse in the neighborhood rode. Usually when I ride, Mistral is the only one I'll saddle up with. For only bonding once every 365 days, we have formed a pretty good relationship. And he's like driving a Cadillac on a freshly surfaced road. When he trots, your butt literally doesn't come out of the seat. But, for whatever reason, I decided that today I was going to be Mr. Adventurous Cowboy and see what this new dude was all about. So, the four of us set off on the endless trails to bond with friends and connect with nature.
It was about as pleasurable as it could be for me. I wasn't starting to regret the decision just yet, but it wasn't exactly my idea of a good time either. Who I really felt bad for was the horses. Horseflies are always bad at this time of year, but today they were horrendous, by far the worst I had ever seen. As humans, there isn't a spot on our body where we cannot swat away a flying insect, but for a horse they only have a tail and mouth to defend themselves from the useless bloodsuckers. They can twitch their skin in the area where these two defense mechanisms can't reach. That usually works for your standard fly, but when a horsefly latches on it takes more than that to detach the little vampires. All four horses were male, and a frequent target for these horseflies was the you-know-what area (the male's most sensitive region). The horses were stomping, swatting with their tails, nipping with their lips, shaking their skin, and just getting down right pissed off. Because of the bombarding our buddies were enduring we decided to turn around early and call it a day. Before we headed back I jumped off my horse, handed the reins to Dan and stepped into the woods to relieve myself. As I was zipping up my trousers and turning to head off on the second half of our hike I heard the yell.
When I turned around to see what was going on I saw Poco jumping up and down and using his rear hoofs to try and paw at his genital region. It was obvious that he had a big one latched on and he could not withstand any more pain or blood loss. I don't think his intention was to buck off my mom, but regardless of what he was trying to do she made an involuntary dismount and fell hard to the ground. Just like the crash, it was probably only two or three seconds, but watching it felt like an eternity. The red clay had replaced the damp grass of the ditch beneath my mother, but here we were back in the same situation. This time was much less dramatic thankfully, but no easier to handle. All she could say was that it hurt and she couldn't get up. She was very calm about it. I guess for her the situation was more tolerable this time because she recognized the pain and knew it would heal. The first time was pure panic because of an unknown future. Regardless, her back was again broken and we were back to square one.
Dan's idea was for the two of us to run back on the horses and get his four-wheeler then come back to get my mom. As in control as I was during the crash, I wasn't afforded the opportunity to take control this time. I had the reins of Shakespeare back in my hand. In response to Dan's recommendation my mom said, "Y'all don't have to do that. I have my cell phone. I can call your dad and he can come get me in the truck." Dan and Roulette were already galloping away. Pasture mates get buddy sour and one horse doesn't like to watch the other run away. Well how lucky was I to be holding the reins of Roulette's pasture buddy as he created a dust storm down the trail. I was thinking that mom's idea sounded much more reasonable than the alternative, but the pressure on the reins was either about to rip them free from my grip or drag me alongside the horse if I refused to let go. I don't claim to be a cowboy, but this next move was some real John Wayne shit. I took off running along side Shakespeare until I was able to grab the horn of the saddle, which was about eye level at least. With one hand on the horn I made one smooth, swift motion and was perfectly seated in the saddle better than Zoro himself could have done it. That was the fun and exciting part. Riding this beast was not. Compared to Mistral's Cadillac like grace, Shakespeare was a dump truck. A really fast dump truck. I more than considered bailing as I searched for the softest landing area. I decided against the suicidal jump and tried to ride it out. One hand was pulling back the reins as hard as possible while the other had a death grip on the horn. I could already feel cramps in my forearms as blisters began to form on my hands. The horse had no regard for what he was barreling through. I was bobbing and weaving, ducking and leaning, moving side to side to avoid the branches that were waiting to unseat me. With the slightest relief on the reins I could feel Shakespeare dig his hooves deeper into the dirt and accelerate. As scared as I was, I paused for a moment to admire the raw horse power that these animals possess. And all the while, as I struggle to stay on, I look over at Dan who has one hand on the reins and the other relaxed by his side. "How's it going buddy?" he asked. I couldn't even open my mouth to speak. I tried to say, "Slow down!" but it obviously didn't come out right, because we didn't slow down.
I've been on planes, trains, roller-coasters, and ridden with crazy drivers, but this was the very first time I felt the need to kiss the ground after safely arriving somewhere. We dismounted the horsepower with a brain and jumped onto the horsepower with an engine. I like horsepower that cannot think for itself. Although the ride back down the same trail was equally as chaotic, not a bit of anxiety ran through my nerves. The ATV has brakes, an accelerator, and handlebars, all of which is controlled by a human, not making its own decisions. Come to find out, Dan admitted that he was panicking the entire time, scared that he was going to wreck us. I was straddling the back of the seat totally in my element, just as relaxed as he had been on the horse. We arrived back at the scene of the accident just as my dad was helping my mom get into the truck. Speechless. That is what I was then, and that's what I am now. There are no words to describe how I felt. I wasn't mad, there was no one to be mad at. I wasn't disappointed or upset or sad or discouraged. I surely wasn't happy. I was just speechless. I couldn't believe I had gone through all of that effort for nothing. I was just emotionally and physically ready to collapse.
Looking back on it, we can't help but laugh. The thrill ride on the four legs followed by the ride on the four wheels is funny to us now. At the time it was far from comical. My mom didn't go to the hospital that night. She just strapped on the brace and dealt with the pain. She did go to see her doctor and get more scans done. The spine was indeed broken again. What raised interest was that it broke in a different spot, and the fall wasn't as severe as the crash. It was bad enough to re-fracture the original break, but not create an entirely new one. As maybe you can guess, she was diagnosed with osteoporosis and must administer a shot into her own leg daily.
The year 2010 was unquestionably trying on our family. Our patience was tested, and our resolve was challenged. We withstood life's attempt to break us down. We passed this cruel test. For me it serves as a great lesson that I will undoubtedly remember for the rest of my life. It is just one of many trials and tribulations that we must journey through in the battle of life.
John Nugent's
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Crash, Part II
I wrote The Crash to try out my hand as an author. It has become a recent dream of mine to write a book, so this was an attempt to see how I would do at telling a story. Apparently I did fairly well, because the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. I can't give enough thanks to all of those who took the time to read the story and share their thoughts with me.
It was not at all my intention for the story to be emotional. I wanted it to be dramatic, and a little bit suspenseful. However, I did not want my audience to cry, but that is what almost every reader told me they did. Most people who read the story knew what happened. What I wanted to do was give them the inside perspective. They already knew what happened from their perspective. Dona and Little Johnny got into a wreck and Dona broke her back. That was the extent of the situation as far as most people were concerned. I wanted them to see the story from our perspective. I wanted them to feel our fear, and experience the turmoil that we went through. Although I wanted them to see it through our eyes, I did not think the readers would get so engrossed into the story that they would become emotionally affected. Thus, I must compliment myself on the level of detail put into the story, and my ability to allow the reader to connect with the author. I was amazed, and pleased, with the number of people who said, "I felt like I was in the accident with you."
With that being said, I want to follow up the story with this "note from the author." There was a lot of detail in that story. But looking back on it, and reading over it a few times, there are quite a few glaring omissions. The Crash, Part II will serve as my epilogue to the story I previously told.
My first fear was that people would not know who was at fault in this incident. After I re-read the story, I was happy to notice that I described the accident by saying the Suburban was in our lane bearing down on us. This would indicate that the other driver was at fault. And that was the case. I will admit, while I was sleeping and felt the brakes lock up and heard my mom express her expletive, I thought she had made a mistake and was about to run into someone. Shame on me because she has never caused an accident as far as I know. The driver of the other car was coming around a pretty intense curve, and with the roads being wet as they were, she had slid into our lane. My first thoughts were that she had lost control. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She had come into the curve too fast, with the roads slippery, she slid into the opposite lane. I thought it was an innocent mistake, an accident. I thought that if there was anything she was doing wrong, maybe she was texting.
Well, I was wrong. It wasn't an innocent accident and she wasn't texting. She was drunk. That is the first glaring omission from my story. But I don't regret leaving it out of the story. I wanted to give the reader a detailed account of the incident and her being drunk had no effect on the way I handled the situation. I didn't find out until days later. The hospital tested her blood and got results of .15% which is almost double the legal limit to be driving. And those tests were done about an hour after the accident.
There are a few other intense details that happened on scene which I could have included in the story but did not for no reason that I can explain. While I was talking to the 911 operator (and she was asking so many damn questions) the woman who was first to arrive on scene ran over to me and said, "the lady (the driver of the other vehicle) said 'where is my son, is my son OK? My son was in the car. Where is he?'" The operator heard this and said, "Sir, did I just hear that there is one more person involved in the accident?" I was blindsided by this so I said I didn't know. The operator asked me to find out. I went to the passenger's side of the Suburban and opened all the doors. I looked front to back, side to side, top to bottom. I looked under the seats, and under the vehicle. I ran around and looked in the ditches. There was no kid to be found. I told the operator exactly what I had found: nothing. The persistent voice on the other end of the line kept wanting to know if there was a kid in the car, and my response was, "If there was, he was thrown too far into the woods for me to find him." Once again, maybe I wasn't the best at being sensitive in this situation, but my mother's well-being was the one and only concern on my mind. Come to find out, the driver of the other vehicle had just dropped off her son at her mother-in-law's house less than a mile away. Thank goodness that the young boy didn't have to go through what we did.
As I was getting into the ambulance I saw the fire department walking over to the Suburban with the "jaws of life." I had never seen them before in real life. Every time I heard someone had to be cut from a car with the jaws of life, I knew it was serious. Well here I was walking away from an accident that needed the jaws of life. One of them carried the huge cutters, and the other toted the generator to power the scissors. I already knew both cars were totaled; I knew the head-to-head collision was bad; I knew we were all physically wounded; but it was seeing the jaws of life that told me this accident was no joke.
As I mentioned, I want this to serve as a view into the mind of the author. I am not trying to tell a story here. This is my epilogue. I am telling you what I left out of the original story, and giving a behind-the-scenes look into my thought process. However, if there is one part of this where I would expect you to gasp, this is it. As you already know, my mom had a broken back. Because of this, necessary scans were performed. The results of these scans is what truly makes this story amazing. The doctors found a tumor on my mother's kidney. It took months of tests and consultation to decide that the entire kidney should be removed. However, the surgery was so physically demanding that it couldn't be done with her spine in its current condition. Four months of recovery was deemed enough for the surgery, so in April 2010 she was re-admitted into the hospital to have her kidney removed. We didn't know if the tumor was malignant or benign, but because of its size and given the circumstances it was recommended that the entire kidney be removed. The biopsy results showed that the tumor was cancerous and if it wasn't caught when it was, who knows how far or fast it would have spread. The wreck that could have killed my mother saved her life. Call it ironic, call it luck, call it fate. I don't care what you believe in or what you call it. My mother had gone through living hell and she is still here to talk about it; that's all I care about.
The tumor and the resulting kidney surgery was just a reason for us to say, "what can go wrong now?" Little did we know, we were just four months into the most hellacious year of our life.
It was not at all my intention for the story to be emotional. I wanted it to be dramatic, and a little bit suspenseful. However, I did not want my audience to cry, but that is what almost every reader told me they did. Most people who read the story knew what happened. What I wanted to do was give them the inside perspective. They already knew what happened from their perspective. Dona and Little Johnny got into a wreck and Dona broke her back. That was the extent of the situation as far as most people were concerned. I wanted them to see the story from our perspective. I wanted them to feel our fear, and experience the turmoil that we went through. Although I wanted them to see it through our eyes, I did not think the readers would get so engrossed into the story that they would become emotionally affected. Thus, I must compliment myself on the level of detail put into the story, and my ability to allow the reader to connect with the author. I was amazed, and pleased, with the number of people who said, "I felt like I was in the accident with you."
With that being said, I want to follow up the story with this "note from the author." There was a lot of detail in that story. But looking back on it, and reading over it a few times, there are quite a few glaring omissions. The Crash, Part II will serve as my epilogue to the story I previously told.
My first fear was that people would not know who was at fault in this incident. After I re-read the story, I was happy to notice that I described the accident by saying the Suburban was in our lane bearing down on us. This would indicate that the other driver was at fault. And that was the case. I will admit, while I was sleeping and felt the brakes lock up and heard my mom express her expletive, I thought she had made a mistake and was about to run into someone. Shame on me because she has never caused an accident as far as I know. The driver of the other car was coming around a pretty intense curve, and with the roads being wet as they were, she had slid into our lane. My first thoughts were that she had lost control. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She had come into the curve too fast, with the roads slippery, she slid into the opposite lane. I thought it was an innocent mistake, an accident. I thought that if there was anything she was doing wrong, maybe she was texting.
Well, I was wrong. It wasn't an innocent accident and she wasn't texting. She was drunk. That is the first glaring omission from my story. But I don't regret leaving it out of the story. I wanted to give the reader a detailed account of the incident and her being drunk had no effect on the way I handled the situation. I didn't find out until days later. The hospital tested her blood and got results of .15% which is almost double the legal limit to be driving. And those tests were done about an hour after the accident.
There are a few other intense details that happened on scene which I could have included in the story but did not for no reason that I can explain. While I was talking to the 911 operator (and she was asking so many damn questions) the woman who was first to arrive on scene ran over to me and said, "the lady (the driver of the other vehicle) said 'where is my son, is my son OK? My son was in the car. Where is he?'" The operator heard this and said, "Sir, did I just hear that there is one more person involved in the accident?" I was blindsided by this so I said I didn't know. The operator asked me to find out. I went to the passenger's side of the Suburban and opened all the doors. I looked front to back, side to side, top to bottom. I looked under the seats, and under the vehicle. I ran around and looked in the ditches. There was no kid to be found. I told the operator exactly what I had found: nothing. The persistent voice on the other end of the line kept wanting to know if there was a kid in the car, and my response was, "If there was, he was thrown too far into the woods for me to find him." Once again, maybe I wasn't the best at being sensitive in this situation, but my mother's well-being was the one and only concern on my mind. Come to find out, the driver of the other vehicle had just dropped off her son at her mother-in-law's house less than a mile away. Thank goodness that the young boy didn't have to go through what we did.
As I was getting into the ambulance I saw the fire department walking over to the Suburban with the "jaws of life." I had never seen them before in real life. Every time I heard someone had to be cut from a car with the jaws of life, I knew it was serious. Well here I was walking away from an accident that needed the jaws of life. One of them carried the huge cutters, and the other toted the generator to power the scissors. I already knew both cars were totaled; I knew the head-to-head collision was bad; I knew we were all physically wounded; but it was seeing the jaws of life that told me this accident was no joke.
As I mentioned, I want this to serve as a view into the mind of the author. I am not trying to tell a story here. This is my epilogue. I am telling you what I left out of the original story, and giving a behind-the-scenes look into my thought process. However, if there is one part of this where I would expect you to gasp, this is it. As you already know, my mom had a broken back. Because of this, necessary scans were performed. The results of these scans is what truly makes this story amazing. The doctors found a tumor on my mother's kidney. It took months of tests and consultation to decide that the entire kidney should be removed. However, the surgery was so physically demanding that it couldn't be done with her spine in its current condition. Four months of recovery was deemed enough for the surgery, so in April 2010 she was re-admitted into the hospital to have her kidney removed. We didn't know if the tumor was malignant or benign, but because of its size and given the circumstances it was recommended that the entire kidney be removed. The biopsy results showed that the tumor was cancerous and if it wasn't caught when it was, who knows how far or fast it would have spread. The wreck that could have killed my mother saved her life. Call it ironic, call it luck, call it fate. I don't care what you believe in or what you call it. My mother had gone through living hell and she is still here to talk about it; that's all I care about.
The tumor and the resulting kidney surgery was just a reason for us to say, "what can go wrong now?" Little did we know, we were just four months into the most hellacious year of our life.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
The Crash
Wednesday December 23, 2009 4:30 p.m. Hammond, LA
It was the beginning of a four day weekend. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, Friday is Christmas Day, then we were off of work Saturday and Sunday. It was the end of our work day, and we were stepping out the door to begin our one hour commute home. As you know, if you read This is Me, I ride from home to work/school with my mom daily. My aunt and uncle from Philadelphia were in town staying with my grandmother and aunt. The four of them were scheduled to join us for dinner on this Wednesday evening along with my girlfriend Cortney's family. It was the perfect way to kick off the holiday weekend, and the sense of excitement inside me was the first real taste of this year's holiday atmosphere. As I often did, I settled into the passenger seat, reclined it a few notches, and did a routine check for holes in my eye lids. When you live, work, and commute with the same person, you often run out of things to talk about. These two hours a day spent in the truck usually consisted of her on the phone, and me reading or napping.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:45 p.m. Tickfaw, LA
Many times in my life I have had the dream where I am falling off a cliff with that weird sensation of freedom but ever-increasing nervousness as the ground approaches. Just before the free fall ends, I awaken suddenly, often times sitting up straight in bed and breathing heavily with a sweaty forehead and rapid heartbeat. It usually only takes a few minutes for me to relax after convincing myself it was just a dream, and everything will be OK. As quickly as my anxiety had built up, it seems to subside just as hastily. This descent of emotion seems to put me right back into the same deep sleep I was rudely awoken from moments ago. It can sometimes seem so real, and I wake up genuinely scared. However realistic it seemed, none of that would compare to the rude awakening I was about to be faced with.
We had only made it a couple miles from work, less than ten. The roads were slick from the light drizzle that seemed to be dampening the entire day. I was dozing in and out of my nap, but deep enough into it to be absolutely shocked by what was about to occur. I felt the brakes lock up and the truck go into a forward slide. Simultaneously I heard the voice of my mother say "Oh shit!" The two alarms made me jerk up instantly just as if I had been awoken from one of those terrible dreams. However, during this nightmare I had no idea what I was free falling into. It was probably only three or so seconds, but felt like minutes. As I lurched forward to see what was going on, I saw the most fearful sight of my life: a Chevy Suburban in our lane bearing down on us at between 45-50 mph. I remember hearing "hold on" followed by a very loud symphony of metal crashing into metal, airbags being deployed, and my own grunt as all the air was squeezed from me when the seatbelt brought me from 50 to 0 mph. Our truck was a beautiful burnt orange color. The hood had been smashed up and was all that could be seen through the windshield. There was a haze of smoke from the airbags being deployed. The smoke combined with the color of the hood caused my mom to say "it's on fire, get out quick!" Without even taking the time to try and decide if she was correct I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw open the door. As I was exiting the truck, I heard the desperation plea from my mom, "the door is jammed, I can't open it." While running around the back of the vehicle I yelled, "I'm coming, I'll get you out." This was going to be one of the adrenaline moments like when a mom lifts a car off of her child. I was going to get that door open and my mom out of the truck. As soon as I reached the door, it swung open. I didn't have to be the hulking hero, she did it herself. Along with a broken back and ribs, my mom had a broken toe. Looking back, we think the cause of it was her kicking open the door. As soon as she slid from the driver's seat onto the road, she collapsed. The pain caused by her broken spine would not allow any pressure on it. I ushered her away from the truck and into the ditch to lay down. Luckily the truck was not on fire because that thought left my mind rather quickly, and we weren't a safe distance away. I knelt next to my mother in the soaked grass of the roadside ditch. All I could say was "it will be OK, you are going to be alright. I know it hurts, but stay calm, we will be OK." I didn't know if we would be OK. I didn't know if she would ever walk again. I didn't know what the hell was going on. All I knew was that she was in agonizing pain and I had to be her rock and keep her calm and thinking positively.
It was amazing how quickly people showed up to help. A female who was in a vehicle behind us and saw the accident was by my side instantly. Another driver who witnessed the ordeal was a nurse and began checking my mom's sense of feeling in her fingers, toes, and legs. The female driver who was first to the scene ran over to check on the other driver involved in the accident. She walked back over a minute later and said "we got a dead one, she's dead." I don't know why I did this, because I can assure you I have no desire to see death, but I instantly got up and began to walk to the Suburban to have a look for myself. It was then that the adrenaline had subsided enough for me to realize I too was hurt. My left ankle gave me an immense amount of pain along with my left hip and wrist. Nonetheless, I marched over to the Suburban ignoring my mom's attempts to discourage me from seeing it. The women was lifeless in the driver's seat. Her body was slouched over the center console with her long blonde hair draped over her face. If not for the seatbelt holding her up, she would have been laid across to the passenger's seat. I stared, I looked at her, I didn't say anything or do anything. I didn't know what to do, what to think, what to feel.
The female who was first to arrive on scene was trying to talk to the woman and touched her arm. The driver made some sort of a mumble, and slightly moved her head and body. Relieved that we wouldn't have to deal with death today, I walked away to tend to the person I cared about. Some of you may be saying at this point, "Um, hello! Are you going to call 911?!?!?" I had to re-enter the truck to find my iPhone. It was on the floor by the pedals, with my case in pieces. The horrendous smell of the airbag emission was still hissing from the dashboard. I grabbed the trusty Apple product and it illuminated to life as I dialed 911. I thought I had everything under control, and things were settling down. But as soon as the operator answered, my level of panic went back to square one. I told them what happened, and my mom was badly hurt, probably a broken back, and the driver of the other vehicle was barely conscious. She asked so many damn questions which I was in no mental state to answer, and she even patched in the ambulance operator who asked more. I said "just get here as fast as you can." My mentality was bring the whole army if you have to, we need to get my mom to a hospital. Ask questions later.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:50 p.m. Covington, LA
Johnny Nugent III was at his home in good ole Lee Road. He had his 18 ounce Miller Lite long neck in hand, ready to take the last pull on it, deposit the empty, and start on the case of bottles that he and his son would inevitably kill tonight as the family started their holiday festivities. The holster on hip began to vibrate and he cursed to himself thinking "if this is the dispatcher ten minutes before 5:00, they can forget about me answering." However, it was his drinking buddy - his son. It wasn't uncommon for LJ to call and say that he and mom were on the way home, but usually there was a reason. Johnny III answered the phone anticipating his son to say "me and mom are on our way home. She's talking to Maw Maw finalizing tonight's plans. We will see you in a bit." But instead he was confronted with an answer he had never heard before. It was indeed the voice of his son, but it possessed a tone that he never dreamt he would have to endure. Johnny IV said,"Dad, we have been in a wreck. Mom's back is hurt, we are getting into an ambulance right now. Call the family and tell them the party is cancelled, and come to the hospital immediately. Everything will be OK." Johnny III quivered. How could everything be OK? You don't call someone and tell them that type of news and simply say everything will be OK. Shakily his voice murmured some sort of question but his son simply said, "Dad, we will be OK. We are getting into the ambulance. Come to the hospital now."
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:50 p.m. Tickfaw, LA
There wasn't much more for me to tell my father. I could tell by his voice that he was distraught, but damn, so was I. We had been in a wreck, we were getting into the ambulance and we were heading to the hospital, it was that simple. The best thing for him to do was inform the rest of the family that the party was cancelled, and get to the hospital. Maybe I wasn't the most sensitive at being the bearer of bad news, but at this point I was trying to take the reins and control the situation. Plain and simple, there wasn't much more to say.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:55-5:00 p.m. Covington, LA
Cortney was preparing for a pleasant night between her parents and her boyfriend's family. Of course he was the man of her dreams, but it didn't hurt at all that their families got along perfectly. This was going to be a fun-filled night. She knew Johnny and Mrs. Dona would be leaving work around 4:30, getting home a little before 5:30. Because of the commute, the party was scheduled around 6:00; it was flexible. Cortney was preparing things, making sure her parents were ready to depart when notified, then the phone rang. It was Johnny. No big deal. He was about halfway home; he was just calling to tell her so, and give her a confirmation of what she already knew. Instead she was greeted by a panicked voice she hadn't yet heard in her elongated relationship with the person on the other end. Johnny said, "We got in a wreck on our way home. We are in an ambulance headed to the hospital. The party is cancelled. Meet us at the hospital if you want." Cortney's nerves were as cold as steel, almost as if she were born to deal with these tragedies. Without question, she confirmed the message, hung up the phone, and she and her mother were in route to the hospital.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 5:15-5:30 p.m. Hammond, LA
It was impossible to maintain any recollection of time through all of this, so that is my best guess. We made it to the hospital. The ambulance ride sucked. I told them I wanted to go get checked out because I had pain, but absolutely did not want to be strapped down onto the stiff board. Apparently that wasn't an option. I did manage an attempt at lightening the situation by asking mom "what kind of vehicle are you going to get now?" I got a bit of a chuckle, but I don't think she was in the mood. That was the extent of our conversation in the ambulance. I don't know how they did it, but I think Cortney and her mom were waiting for me in the emergency room, along with my father. Call it ambulatory incompetency, or call it desperate love for those you care about, but they were there. I was in and out of the hospital fairly quickly. Just a quick check by the doctor and some x-rays; having my cloths stripped off by two cute nurses was the highlight. I was able to tell Cortney, "this is bullshit, I didn't want to be strapped down onto this thing." But after I was unstrapped, I made sure the sexy gown those cute nurses put me in revealed my white ass to everyone in the emergency room.
Cortney and her mom took me home from the hospital. When we left I had my mom's cell phone and was tasked with calling and notifying everyone of what happened. I got a call from my mom's friend. I don't know how this woman found out so quickly, but it didn't matter. She told me that she hopes me and my mother will be alright, and if there is anything we need, just give her a call because she will drop everything to help us. I was sitting in the back seat of the vehicle physically wounded, but the pain of the metal on metal wreck isn't what made me cry. I began to weep uncontrollably. I was overwhelmed with emotion because of the realization of those who are in my life who will come to the front line when it is a true battle. I was brutally reminded of August 29, 2005 when Katrina generated a tornado that took off our roof and ruined our house. It wasn't the ceilings falling in that made me sad. I clinched my fist and wanted to fight when that happened. It was the neighbors who showed up in the pooring rain to salvage our prized belongings that made me drop to my knees and sob.
My mom stayed in the hospital for I believe two more days. She had a hellacious six month recovery ahead of her. As for me, I still have wrist pain to remind me of that day over two years ago. I'm sure as I age, it will get worse but the wrist pain is welcomed when compared to the anguish caused by what could have happened that day.
I know that was pretty long, so if you stuck with me this far, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed my story, and my personal reminder of how quickly something can be taken from you.
It was the beginning of a four day weekend. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, Friday is Christmas Day, then we were off of work Saturday and Sunday. It was the end of our work day, and we were stepping out the door to begin our one hour commute home. As you know, if you read This is Me, I ride from home to work/school with my mom daily. My aunt and uncle from Philadelphia were in town staying with my grandmother and aunt. The four of them were scheduled to join us for dinner on this Wednesday evening along with my girlfriend Cortney's family. It was the perfect way to kick off the holiday weekend, and the sense of excitement inside me was the first real taste of this year's holiday atmosphere. As I often did, I settled into the passenger seat, reclined it a few notches, and did a routine check for holes in my eye lids. When you live, work, and commute with the same person, you often run out of things to talk about. These two hours a day spent in the truck usually consisted of her on the phone, and me reading or napping.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:45 p.m. Tickfaw, LA
Many times in my life I have had the dream where I am falling off a cliff with that weird sensation of freedom but ever-increasing nervousness as the ground approaches. Just before the free fall ends, I awaken suddenly, often times sitting up straight in bed and breathing heavily with a sweaty forehead and rapid heartbeat. It usually only takes a few minutes for me to relax after convincing myself it was just a dream, and everything will be OK. As quickly as my anxiety had built up, it seems to subside just as hastily. This descent of emotion seems to put me right back into the same deep sleep I was rudely awoken from moments ago. It can sometimes seem so real, and I wake up genuinely scared. However realistic it seemed, none of that would compare to the rude awakening I was about to be faced with.
We had only made it a couple miles from work, less than ten. The roads were slick from the light drizzle that seemed to be dampening the entire day. I was dozing in and out of my nap, but deep enough into it to be absolutely shocked by what was about to occur. I felt the brakes lock up and the truck go into a forward slide. Simultaneously I heard the voice of my mother say "Oh shit!" The two alarms made me jerk up instantly just as if I had been awoken from one of those terrible dreams. However, during this nightmare I had no idea what I was free falling into. It was probably only three or so seconds, but felt like minutes. As I lurched forward to see what was going on, I saw the most fearful sight of my life: a Chevy Suburban in our lane bearing down on us at between 45-50 mph. I remember hearing "hold on" followed by a very loud symphony of metal crashing into metal, airbags being deployed, and my own grunt as all the air was squeezed from me when the seatbelt brought me from 50 to 0 mph. Our truck was a beautiful burnt orange color. The hood had been smashed up and was all that could be seen through the windshield. There was a haze of smoke from the airbags being deployed. The smoke combined with the color of the hood caused my mom to say "it's on fire, get out quick!" Without even taking the time to try and decide if she was correct I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw open the door. As I was exiting the truck, I heard the desperation plea from my mom, "the door is jammed, I can't open it." While running around the back of the vehicle I yelled, "I'm coming, I'll get you out." This was going to be one of the adrenaline moments like when a mom lifts a car off of her child. I was going to get that door open and my mom out of the truck. As soon as I reached the door, it swung open. I didn't have to be the hulking hero, she did it herself. Along with a broken back and ribs, my mom had a broken toe. Looking back, we think the cause of it was her kicking open the door. As soon as she slid from the driver's seat onto the road, she collapsed. The pain caused by her broken spine would not allow any pressure on it. I ushered her away from the truck and into the ditch to lay down. Luckily the truck was not on fire because that thought left my mind rather quickly, and we weren't a safe distance away. I knelt next to my mother in the soaked grass of the roadside ditch. All I could say was "it will be OK, you are going to be alright. I know it hurts, but stay calm, we will be OK." I didn't know if we would be OK. I didn't know if she would ever walk again. I didn't know what the hell was going on. All I knew was that she was in agonizing pain and I had to be her rock and keep her calm and thinking positively.
It was amazing how quickly people showed up to help. A female who was in a vehicle behind us and saw the accident was by my side instantly. Another driver who witnessed the ordeal was a nurse and began checking my mom's sense of feeling in her fingers, toes, and legs. The female driver who was first to the scene ran over to check on the other driver involved in the accident. She walked back over a minute later and said "we got a dead one, she's dead." I don't know why I did this, because I can assure you I have no desire to see death, but I instantly got up and began to walk to the Suburban to have a look for myself. It was then that the adrenaline had subsided enough for me to realize I too was hurt. My left ankle gave me an immense amount of pain along with my left hip and wrist. Nonetheless, I marched over to the Suburban ignoring my mom's attempts to discourage me from seeing it. The women was lifeless in the driver's seat. Her body was slouched over the center console with her long blonde hair draped over her face. If not for the seatbelt holding her up, she would have been laid across to the passenger's seat. I stared, I looked at her, I didn't say anything or do anything. I didn't know what to do, what to think, what to feel.
The female who was first to arrive on scene was trying to talk to the woman and touched her arm. The driver made some sort of a mumble, and slightly moved her head and body. Relieved that we wouldn't have to deal with death today, I walked away to tend to the person I cared about. Some of you may be saying at this point, "Um, hello! Are you going to call 911?!?!?" I had to re-enter the truck to find my iPhone. It was on the floor by the pedals, with my case in pieces. The horrendous smell of the airbag emission was still hissing from the dashboard. I grabbed the trusty Apple product and it illuminated to life as I dialed 911. I thought I had everything under control, and things were settling down. But as soon as the operator answered, my level of panic went back to square one. I told them what happened, and my mom was badly hurt, probably a broken back, and the driver of the other vehicle was barely conscious. She asked so many damn questions which I was in no mental state to answer, and she even patched in the ambulance operator who asked more. I said "just get here as fast as you can." My mentality was bring the whole army if you have to, we need to get my mom to a hospital. Ask questions later.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:50 p.m. Covington, LA
Johnny Nugent III was at his home in good ole Lee Road. He had his 18 ounce Miller Lite long neck in hand, ready to take the last pull on it, deposit the empty, and start on the case of bottles that he and his son would inevitably kill tonight as the family started their holiday festivities. The holster on hip began to vibrate and he cursed to himself thinking "if this is the dispatcher ten minutes before 5:00, they can forget about me answering." However, it was his drinking buddy - his son. It wasn't uncommon for LJ to call and say that he and mom were on the way home, but usually there was a reason. Johnny III answered the phone anticipating his son to say "me and mom are on our way home. She's talking to Maw Maw finalizing tonight's plans. We will see you in a bit." But instead he was confronted with an answer he had never heard before. It was indeed the voice of his son, but it possessed a tone that he never dreamt he would have to endure. Johnny IV said,"Dad, we have been in a wreck. Mom's back is hurt, we are getting into an ambulance right now. Call the family and tell them the party is cancelled, and come to the hospital immediately. Everything will be OK." Johnny III quivered. How could everything be OK? You don't call someone and tell them that type of news and simply say everything will be OK. Shakily his voice murmured some sort of question but his son simply said, "Dad, we will be OK. We are getting into the ambulance. Come to the hospital now."
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:50 p.m. Tickfaw, LA
There wasn't much more for me to tell my father. I could tell by his voice that he was distraught, but damn, so was I. We had been in a wreck, we were getting into the ambulance and we were heading to the hospital, it was that simple. The best thing for him to do was inform the rest of the family that the party was cancelled, and get to the hospital. Maybe I wasn't the most sensitive at being the bearer of bad news, but at this point I was trying to take the reins and control the situation. Plain and simple, there wasn't much more to say.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 4:55-5:00 p.m. Covington, LA
Cortney was preparing for a pleasant night between her parents and her boyfriend's family. Of course he was the man of her dreams, but it didn't hurt at all that their families got along perfectly. This was going to be a fun-filled night. She knew Johnny and Mrs. Dona would be leaving work around 4:30, getting home a little before 5:30. Because of the commute, the party was scheduled around 6:00; it was flexible. Cortney was preparing things, making sure her parents were ready to depart when notified, then the phone rang. It was Johnny. No big deal. He was about halfway home; he was just calling to tell her so, and give her a confirmation of what she already knew. Instead she was greeted by a panicked voice she hadn't yet heard in her elongated relationship with the person on the other end. Johnny said, "We got in a wreck on our way home. We are in an ambulance headed to the hospital. The party is cancelled. Meet us at the hospital if you want." Cortney's nerves were as cold as steel, almost as if she were born to deal with these tragedies. Without question, she confirmed the message, hung up the phone, and she and her mother were in route to the hospital.
Wednesday December 23, 2009 approximately 5:15-5:30 p.m. Hammond, LA
It was impossible to maintain any recollection of time through all of this, so that is my best guess. We made it to the hospital. The ambulance ride sucked. I told them I wanted to go get checked out because I had pain, but absolutely did not want to be strapped down onto the stiff board. Apparently that wasn't an option. I did manage an attempt at lightening the situation by asking mom "what kind of vehicle are you going to get now?" I got a bit of a chuckle, but I don't think she was in the mood. That was the extent of our conversation in the ambulance. I don't know how they did it, but I think Cortney and her mom were waiting for me in the emergency room, along with my father. Call it ambulatory incompetency, or call it desperate love for those you care about, but they were there. I was in and out of the hospital fairly quickly. Just a quick check by the doctor and some x-rays; having my cloths stripped off by two cute nurses was the highlight. I was able to tell Cortney, "this is bullshit, I didn't want to be strapped down onto this thing." But after I was unstrapped, I made sure the sexy gown those cute nurses put me in revealed my white ass to everyone in the emergency room.
Cortney and her mom took me home from the hospital. When we left I had my mom's cell phone and was tasked with calling and notifying everyone of what happened. I got a call from my mom's friend. I don't know how this woman found out so quickly, but it didn't matter. She told me that she hopes me and my mother will be alright, and if there is anything we need, just give her a call because she will drop everything to help us. I was sitting in the back seat of the vehicle physically wounded, but the pain of the metal on metal wreck isn't what made me cry. I began to weep uncontrollably. I was overwhelmed with emotion because of the realization of those who are in my life who will come to the front line when it is a true battle. I was brutally reminded of August 29, 2005 when Katrina generated a tornado that took off our roof and ruined our house. It wasn't the ceilings falling in that made me sad. I clinched my fist and wanted to fight when that happened. It was the neighbors who showed up in the pooring rain to salvage our prized belongings that made me drop to my knees and sob.
My mom stayed in the hospital for I believe two more days. She had a hellacious six month recovery ahead of her. As for me, I still have wrist pain to remind me of that day over two years ago. I'm sure as I age, it will get worse but the wrist pain is welcomed when compared to the anguish caused by what could have happened that day.
I know that was pretty long, so if you stuck with me this far, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed my story, and my personal reminder of how quickly something can be taken from you.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
To use, or not to use the F word.
When I was growing up, there seemed to be a motivation to try to be different. Whoever could be the first to do something different, to set the trend, was just so damn cool. To be quite honest, I was never different. I was not the first to set trends, and I never tried. To some, it came natural, and I respect that. They genuinely were trend setters, that's who they were, and it was pretty cool. But of course others wanted to be cool, so they had to try to be different, they had to try to set trends. For me, it was pretty easy to differentiate the imitators from the innovators. This is something that I have observed for over a decade now, and still see prime examples of the imitators today. What's so comical is the vicious cycle that this creates. The first movers define coolness, the followers follow, it's all done for the sake of being cool, then everybody is the same because they all tried to be different.
Somewhere along the way, being different and setting the trend turned into "I'm different than the main stream crowd, and I don't care what people think about me." As I said, I always felt like I had the ability to tell apart the real from the fake, and those who were really different, the ones who were just being themselves, never found the need to vocally tell people they were different and didn't care. It wasn't just enough anymore to try to be different, now you have to announce it and justify why you're doing it. The justification of course is simply, "I don't give a shit what people think about me."
Establishing the disparity between innovators and imitators is not what this post is about. All of that was an intro into the main topic. What I am trying to establish here is a progressive timeline. Paragraph 1 was my observations about ten years ago: trying to be different, because different was cool. Over the years it evolved into the observations I explained in Paragraph 2: the need to tell people you are different (therefore obviously cool) and the fact that you don't care what people think about you being different. Well now in Paragraph 3, I explain what I feel this theme has evolved into. It's really just a branch-off from Paragraph 2, but instead of being different and not caring it's more of saying what you feel and not caring. We've heard it oh-so-many times: "I speak my mind, that's just the way I am. Sorry if I offend you, but I'm going to tell like it is." Well first of all, you're not sorry if you offend anyone, so leave out that insincere apologetic disclaimer, and secondly, just because you think your opinion is the way it is doesn't make it so.
It's something that I absolutely cannot wrap my mind around. Maybe it's the way I was raised, or maybe it's a trait that I was born with, but I have no desire to piss people off. And if I have to bite my tongue to stay on neutral territory, then so be it. I like to make new friends and keep the ones I have, not run any of them off with a loud obnoxious mouth. I do have an opinion on most topics, albeit usually not a strong one, and that opinion often remains with me. When I do have a strong opinion on something, it gives me even more of a reason to keep things to myself. When opinions are involved, no one ever really wins. And how ironic is it that here I am posting my opinion to a public social network where potentially hundreds will read it. The difference is I'm not taking a stance on one side of a topic, explaining why I think it is superior, and telling the half of my readers who disagree to piss off. I am merely discussing the actions of those who do so. Honestly, I do care what each and every one of my readers think. And to prove it, I just inserted "piss" in the place of another four letter word I would have preferred to use two sentences ago. But that's how I live my life. I have a filter and I don't let anything from my brain to my mouth bypass it (brain to fingers in this case). I take into consideration how it will be perceived. I know people out there don't want to hear the F word, so I'll leave it out of here just to be safe. (I think I just found my title)
So does this make me a mealy-mouthed pushover that has no opinion, or at least not one that I will share? Or even worse, does this make me fake because I won't express my opinion due to a genuine regard for other people's feelings? I'm sure there is a large number of proudly brazen people who will answer yes. And for their sake I will concede to the argument that it is not only acceptable, it is healthy to have an opinion. Hell, it's normal, it's natural. It's great to take a stance on something, and have a strong emotional belief in it. What I am condemning is feeling the need to walk around town flaunting it with complete disregard for how others will discern it.We've all heard the old saying, "Opinions are like assholes - everybody has one, and they all stink." Well, it's kind of true. Trust me, I enjoy mooning people for a little giggle every now and then, but I don't run around with my pants down because I understand most people don't have a longing for my sphincter. So opinions are like assholes in another way - we should generally keep them to ourselves most of the time. And it's not about keeping your feelings, opinions, or thoughts bottled up all the time, but rather showing a little consideration to your potential audience before letting it leave your lips. It's all about effort, and making an attempt to respect society, instead of being proud for speaking your mind because it's cool now-a-days to not give a shit.
So, if you don't like what I have written, don't bother commenting because this is my opinion and I don't care what you think. . . . . Just kidding you guys. Please comment, share your thoughts, whether you agree or not. It's an open discussion so sound off. Thanks for reading.
So, if you don't like what I have written, don't bother commenting because this is my opinion and I don't care what you think. . . . . Just kidding you guys. Please comment, share your thoughts, whether you agree or not. It's an open discussion so sound off. Thanks for reading.
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