My
in-laws have a home right at the base of the mountain in Provo, Utah. The whole development is built on one
large incline with a few of the streets being somewhat level. Friday morning Gentry came into my room
and asked if she could go riding on her long board. I continue to relive this conversation in my mind.
Gentry the hills here are
really steep. You’re going to have
to finds something that’s not crazy.
Yes, mom, I know, I’ll be
fine.
{sigh} Okay, but make sure
and take your phone and your helmet.
I will.
Have fun, love you too.
Love you too.
And
with that, she ran up the stairs and out the back door.
I
breathed out another sigh, put my phone on airplane mode, and decided to take advantage of a few
quiet moments to say my morning prayers.
A few minutes later I turned my phone back on and noticed I had a
message from Gentry. She was
crying and breathing hard and through jumbled speech I thought I heard her say,
“Help!”
Instant
panic and a sledge hammer to my chest as I frantically called her back.
Gentry, what happened? Are
you okay!?
Mom, MOM, where am I? Is
this a dream? I don’t know where I am!!
Honey, I’m coming! Where are
you???
I don’t know, where am I???
We’re in Utah, remember,
Sadie got married on Saturday
Sadie got married? Why are
we in Utah. Mom I don’t know where I am!!
Don’t move honey, don’t
move, don’t move, I’m coming.
I
put the call on speaker, talking to her the whole time as I scramble into my clothes praying,
“Please help me find her, please let her be okay.”
I
run into Sierra’s room to wake her up, “Gentry’s hurt and we have to find her!”
Sierra and I run to the car in complete panic. At this point someone finds Gentry and starts taking to me on her phone. I ask him to please call 911. He hands the phone to another woman who
tries to tell us where they are.
Time slows as I try to understand what she’s saying. When it clicks I make a u turn and rush
to get to Gentry. Everything seems
surreal. As we turn down the street I see her there, lying on the sidewalk, her
head in a kind strangers hands.
Sierra and I run to her. She
is not wearing her helmet. She is bleeding and cut, but her legs are bent and
moving. Sierra kneels down to her
face and says, “Gentry, I’m going to say a prayer, okay?” She says a tender,
beautiful prayer asking for Gentry to be okay and the stranger and I both say,
“amen”. I hear the sirens as the ambulance approaches. The paramedics ask me if she was wearing
a helmet. I keep looking around
frantically and repeating, “She said she would wear it! She promised! I can’t
find it!” I am fixated on the helmet. I want to know she was wearing it, but I
can’t see it. I wonder out
loud if maybe she came out of it on impact and walked to where she is now
lying down. The fireman puts a
neck brace on as she cries out in pain.
They strap her to a board.
More strangers gather and a women asks my name. She says she knows my in-laws and asks
what she can do to help. My brain
doesn’t want to work, but I close my eyes tight for a moment and tell myself,
“Think Terra!” I ask the lady to
take Sierra home so she can call Sadie and Andy and they can bring her to the
hospital. I feel like I am going to pass out and remember I haven’t eaten
anything. There is a young teenage
girl standing on the lawn near us.
I ask if this is her house and she says yes. I ask if she maybe has a granola bar that I could take with
me in the ambulance as I feel my blood sugar drop. She runs to the house and quickly comes back with a handful
of granola bars. I thank her and
climb in the front part of the ambulance.
They won’t let me ride in the back. I kept looking over the seat saying, “I’m here Gentry, it’s okay
honey, I’m here!” I ask what
they’re doing for her pain. The
paramedic tells me they’re giving her something that will help. Sierra sends me a text at this
moment. It’s a picture of Gentry’s
helmet, still sitting in the garage. My heart sinks. The driver paramedic tells
me the hospital where we’re going has an excellent trama unit. I feel grateful for his kindness.
We
pull into the ER and they wheel Gentry into a large room with lots of
machines. At least six people
start working on her as I watch them cut off her favorite t-shirt and jeans.
She is wearing her brand new skate shoes that she bought herself, and they take
those off too and throw them into a basket with her clothes. The doctor is asking me what happened,
and again the question, “Was she wearing a helmet?” I have to acknowledge at this point that she wasn’t, and I
feel like the most negligent mother ever. Gentry is crying and saying she
hurts. I ask about pain medication
again and the ER doctor says they’re
going to give her morphine.
His voice is calm and reassuring and I feel grateful for all of the
people working to help Gentry be okay.
A
few moments later Sierra comes into the room. Not content to wait for Sadie and Andy to make the 30 minute
drive, she asked my in-laws friend (her name is Robin) to drive her to the ER.
Robin gives me her cell number and I ask her to contact my in-laws to tell them
what’s happended. She gives me a
hug and leaves. The doctor tells us that soon they will take Gentry to have a
CT scan. She becomes quiet as the
morphine takes effect. Sierra and
I are allowed to sit by here and talk quietly to her. Gentry seems to drift in
and out of an uncomfortable sleep. I take a moment to slip into the hall and
try and contact Gregg. Thankfully
he has service. He tells me they
can be there in three hours. Sadie and Andy and my sister-in-law, Soni arrive. Andy’s
brother Joel arrives a few minutes later.
Andy and Joel then (at my request) give Gentry what we call in the Mormon
church, a priesthood blessing. It
is a beautiful, comforting blessing and Gentry immediately seems more
peaceful.
More
people with scrubs come to wheel Gentry to the imaging area. We wait. They wheel Gentry back into the room,
and we wait some more. And my heart hurts thinking about what the CT scans
might show. Finally, the trama doctor comes in to give us results. Gentry’s lungs show a small
pneumothorax, a pocket of air in the outside lining of her lungs caused by the
impact of her crash. The doctor
tells me she will not be able to fly on an airplane for two weeks. Another scan shows that Gentry’s pelvis
is fractured in two places. They
will be admitting her to the hospital.
She also has a slight concussion.
Once
all the adrenaline leaves my body, I start to feel light headed again as I think
about Gentry’s injuries. But I also
begin to feel immense relief now, knowing that she doesn’t have any spiral trama. As the clock ticks on, Gentry becomes
more coherent. She starts to remember what happened right before the crash, but
not the crash itself. She is able
to speak clearly and seems, for the most part, to be herself. More relief as she seems to have no
major brain trama.
Fast Forward
It
is now sixteen days since Gentry’s crash as I sit here in Flagstaff and type
about the events that, believe it or not, happened on Friday the 13th. After two days in the hospital, Gregg and I were able to
drive her back home to Arizona.
Follow-up x-rays at our orthopedic also showed a small fracture in her
sacrum. Overall, I am amazed at how well Gentry is doing. She uses a walker in the house, and if
we go anywhere, we take her wheel chair.
Her doctor estimates about 3 to 4 months for her recovery. Despite what happened, I’m not sure if
Gentry really grasps all the “what ifs” that could have occurred that
day. She is already asking about
long boarding again, and I guess, that is one of the wonderful things about
being a thirteen year old teenager, that bliss of youthful thinking.
When
Drew and Sierra saw the actual hill that Gentry rode, they both commented,
“There’s no way she could have ridden from the top of this hill to the bottom.
Speed wobbles would have thrown her off”
To which I replied, “Well, she didn’t ride to the bottom, not by herself
anyway. There is no doubt in my
mind that there were unseen angels that kept her on that board and blunted the
force of her fall. No doubt in my mind at all.”
And
as for why Gentry didn’t wear her helmet that day, she’s not really sure. She can’t remember exactly how
everything happened or why she didn’t put it on. Again, no explanation, because she’s usually my kid that
follows the rules. One thing
Gentry does remember is realizing that she was out of control, “I knew I was
going to crash, so I just bent my knees and prayed that I could stay on the
board to the bottom of the hill.”
I
believe in angels.
I believe in the power of prayer.
I
also believe that I might be hiding Gentry’s long board for at least a
year.
Pre-crash Phoenix airport |
Arrival in Utah |
Gentry right before hospital discharge |