Bits-n-pieces

Around 5 pm

A growing deep crimson pool. My arm unmoving. Bits of sand and uneven gravel cling to skin in front of my eyes. Waves of pain. Tattoo pressed into the pool and road.

-------

"It hurts, I have to move."

"NO," she says.

"It hurts, please." It's a whimper. Or maybe even in my mind.

"NO!"

--------

My clothes are cut away. I'm naked. Still in the road. The air is cool on my groin.

--------

"I'm gonna do a proctol exam," she says.

"I don't think either of us is gonna like that," I reply.

I definitely don't.

--------

"Why didn't you call us from the scene?" Helicopter crew.

"You weren't available." Someone from ER.

"We are moving you to XYZ hospital," He says.

"Why?"

"You are bleeding inside your skull, they have a better trauma center there."

Oh. This is neither strange to me or frightening. I hurt too much to really care.

-------

Many people pick me up. Questions from every direction. Fast. "What is the date today?" I don't know. I've never been so frustrated. "It's later than the first. It's not the 18th. Can you ask me something else?"

"No, what is the date?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's OK."

It's not OK. I can't fucking remember what day it is. WHY? First time I've been scared in a long long time.

Someone manipulates my legs and hips.

"Can I move my legs?" I've been on the board for probably 2-3 hours.

"He wants to move his legs...", a nurse calls toward my feet.

"Go ahead." A deep caring voice responds.

I slowly lift my legs and feet. Pulling them closer to my body. I think. "Did they move?" I can't see anything.

"Well, if you can do that, you don't need me." I sense this Dr. leaving.

More hands lift me. The board is removed. Feels so good to have the pressure off the back of my head.

----------

CT's & X-rays. Laying on a gurney in a hallway. People pass by. "Can you get me out of here?" I ask a passing orderly or nurse.

---------

At 12 am a pre-pubescent looking boy comes in to suture my head. He doesn't say much.

At 1:30, I realize I am still lying in my own blood. I stop another orderly. "Can someone clean me up? And move me to a room?" The sheets are changed with me still in the bed. The waves of pain almost make me blackout. I'm on a serious dose of morphine and it doesn't even cut it.

At 3:30 am I'm moved to an ICU. I'm washed by two nurses. It doesn't even occur to me that I have a catheter hanging out of me. They start two new IVs and give me a morphine pump. "Whenever you think about it, you hit that button 3 times. Don't wait 'til it hurts," one of them tells me. "Try to sleep." I give that my best shot, but I just drift in and out. Whenever I start to sleep the pain jolts me awake.