Helpless

Today, in the midst of routine Memorial Day shopping for lawn work and BBQ supplies, my brother called to tell me my parents had been in a motorcycle accident. All he really knew was they were on their way to the hospital, all other details were sketchy.  Suddenly I found myself helpless, unable to know what had happened and left with only my imagination to fill in the whos, the whats, the whens and the wheres. In shock, I wandered the store aisles far longer than needed; it’s hard to see the hamburger buns when I’m busy looking for reassurance.

I came home and helped with the yard work, trying in vain to pretend normal actions would make everything else normal again. Finally my brother called with more information. My mom had severe road rash, but nothing was broken. My dad, however, was pretty hurt: broken ribs, shattered shoulder blade, and being taken up for emergency surgery.

I somehow felt even more helpless. Mechanically I worked through my chores, for what else could I do? My body in New England, my heart in New Mexico. If I thought about it too long, I might come completely unglued, so I tried not to stop long enough to process.

I call my mom, I call my sisters. I call and I talk, but it isn’t enough. My brothers, one with my mom posting updates, the other dispersing the information to the rest off us, they help keep their poor sisters up to date. At least they are helping in some way.  Finally we find the surgery wasn’t in his chest, as originally thought, but his abdomen. My dad is now spleenless, but this diagnosis is far better than lungless.

Still, I am helpless. I want to be in the waiting room holding my mom’s hand. I want Peter to speak colleague to colleague with the surgeon, getting all the details in doctor jargon and translating to us in layman’s terms. I want to tell my siblings my husband thinks this is just an easily fixed, no problem, small deal.  At the very least, I want to not see the worry and concern on the face of a man who knows when the news is bad.

I want a reset on my day, to wake up to a happier reality, or to discover it is all a cruel practical joke.

I am helpless to have anything I want. I have nothing to give, nothing to offer, no way to fix, change, or relieve. My family needs help and, despite being full of desire, I am empty of ability. Helpless.

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Helpless.

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Helpless.

Maybe this is why I must constantly remind myself that I am in reality? The reality is that my father is (hopefully sleeping) in the ICU; he is in horrible long term pain. The reality is my mother’s skin has been ripped and rubbed with asphalt; she will sleep alone tonight. The reality is that my parents’ lives have changed forever. The reality IS reality, but I can’t seem to put my mind around it.

Dear God, please help me, help my mom and dad, for I am helpless.






Obviously this is not a post about the fantastic time I had at the Casual Blogger Conference last weekend.  Unfortunately I have other, scarier, things on my mind today.   I've learned that Motherboard's husband was also in a motorcycle accident today and, last I heard, was still in surgery.  If you can spare some extra prayers, send some their way, too.