November 4, 2012:
I decided not to go to church that night, for no particular reason. Just felt like staying in my pajamas and relaxing. My boyfriend, Shane, was at work, so I was just sitting on my bed scrolling through facebook, when my phone rang around 8 PM. I saw my cousin Gini's name come up. I thought to myself, "That's odd for her to be calling me this late," but I answered in my normal peppy voice, "Hey!" She hesitated and said, "........Heyyy? What are you doing?" To which I responded, "Just sitting on my bed looking on my laptop! You?" There was a long pause, and then she suddenly said, "I gotta call you back," and hung up the phone. I kind of thought it was weird, but after a few seconds it left my mind, and my friend Kasey called me. When I answered, Kasey immediately began ragging me for not being at church that night and telling me she was going to kick my butt for not coming. While we were sitting there goofing off, my little sister came in my room and said that my mom needed us, so I told her I was on the phone and I would be there in a second. As soon as I said that, my mom yelled from her room, "COME HERE! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" I knew she had just gotten out of the shower, so I thought she needed a towel or her clothes. Frustrated, I told Kasey to hold on and I put the phone down on my bed. As I rounded the corner to my mom's room, my sister was standing in the middle of the room and my mom was standing in the hallway by the bathroom. She didn't have anything on, so immediately I became irritated that she called me in there just to bring her some clothes. But before I could get anything out, she calmly said a sentence that shattered my world: "Your dad has been in a motorcycle accident and he is being life-flighted." My eyes shot to my sister and I watched her face crumble in her hands and at that moment I spun around back into my room to get dressed. I had a t-shirt on, so I threw a pair of jeans on and was ready to go. By now I was sobbing. I remembered Kasey was on the phone, so I picked it up and just began screaming, "Kasey! My dad was in a motorcycle accident and he is being life-flighted! HURRY PLEASE HURRY!" She said, "It's going to be okay Shelby, I'm hurrying, I will call you in a few minutes - let me get my dad." I hung up and ran back into my mom's room as she was getting dressed and yelled, "CAN WE GO NOW?!" and took off for the car. In my blurred mind and teary eyes, all I could say out loud was, "Please God! Please God! Please God! Please God!" Praying quietly in my mind wouldn't do the trick. I then remembered Shane at work. He works at the prison, so I would have to call the control room and have them connect me to him. I knew that when I told him, he would leave work, regardless of permission. I then faced the dilemma of, do I call or wait? There was no doubt that I needed him, so I called. The poor woman on the phone could barely understand me, but I think she finally heard the name and knew who I wanted. When he answered, I blubbered and told him what was happening, and as expected, he took off.
By then my mom and Makayla were out in the car and we spun out of the driveway. Again, all I could keep repeating was, "Please God! Please God!" as I listened to my sister sob in the back seat. How is this happening? This cannot be real life. The images that crossed my mind were of my dad's face ripped off, his head crushed, his heart no longer beating. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. When my mom hit highway 301, she did 95 mph the whole way to Gainesville. And for those who live around here and know the area - yes, she flew through Hampton and Waldo! Her phone was ringing non-stop with my family trying to figure out what was going on. Mom told us that the flight was cancelled due to the weather, and that they were taking him by ambulance. Kasey called to tell me that her and her dad weren't far behind us. As we were flying down 301, I realized that I had to call Michelle, my dad's girlfriend. My mom was on the phone, so I picked up my phone and kept calling Michelle. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing, and then going to voice mail. I called her about three times before it clicked. I think it clicked at the same time for my sister, too. I looked at my mom and said, "Was Michelle riding with him?" and my mom cautiously said, "Yes," as if she knew this would send us over the edge. And it did. It brought on a whole new round of tears and sobs as we realized that not only was my dad fighting for her life, but Michelle was too, and we didn't even know if she was alive. Then I heard my mom say on the phone, "Oh no. Oh my gosh, no." Silence. Then she said, "Okay, I am going to tell them before we get to the hospital so they won't be blind-sided," and at that moment, I just knew that my daddy had died. It was over, and there was no hope. In those few seconds, all I could think of was my wedding day. Who would walk me down the aisle? Who would dance with me? Who would give me away? I felt like I was about to throw up when my mom hung up and calmly said, "Your dad has lost his left leg. He is hurt very badly." I can honestly say that it never once crossed my mind that there was the possibility of my dad losing his leg. All I pictured was brain damage. But he was ALIVE! How?! I began sobbing again, and this time it was because he was suffering. He was probably in so much pain, and I couldn't do anything to help. As we were coming into Gainesville, my cousin Gini called me, and then it hit me that when she called me earlier, she knew. She knew about the accident, and when I responded so normal, she then knew that I had no clue. As I began sobbing, she said, "Everything is going to be okay. We are all on our way from St. Augustine and we will be there soon. We are going to be okay."
As we hung up, I suddenly realized that I was moments away from the hospital, and I had no clue what would be waiting for me when I got there. As we pulled in the ER loop, there was valet parking, so we literally ran out of the car and threw the keys to the guy and took off for the ER entrance. As we were heading towards the entrance, there were so many ambulances and cop cars with their lights on, so I knew that dad hadn't been there long. I went up to the desk and I didn't care that there were 50 people sitting there, I frantically blurted out that we were here for the motorcycle accident that just came in. The desk clerk immediately stood up and said to follow him. He took us through these double doors that lead back to the hall where they had apparently just brought dad and Michelle through, because there were paramedics standing there. The desk clerk brought us to a private room that only sat about 10 people to wait for whatever would happen next. As I rounded the corner and walked in the door, there sat Michelle's only daughter, Jackie, and her boyfriend, Jeremiah. Before the accident, I had only met Jackie once when my dad, Shane and I went to a Gator football game with Michelle. I felt so awkward, and had no idea what to say to the girl whose mom had just been injured riding a motorcycle with my dad. At that time, we didn't know what happened, so I had no clue if it was my dad's fault or someone else's fault. As I sat down across from her, I began to cry and all I could say was, "I'm so sorry that this has happened." Jackie and Jeremiah seemed calm, so I knew that Michelle must be alive still. I heard my mom talking to someone, so I went back out in the hall to find her talking to a few paramedics who had transported dad. We knew them personally, so we were hanging on their every word. They told us that they both were conscious and calm through the whole transport, and that dad was even talking to them on the way to the hospital about my sister and I. They told us that he did lose his leg pretty high up, and that they were trying to save Michelle's. About that time, I saw Kasey and Bro. Charles walking down the hallway towards us. As Kasey embraced me, the double doors to the emergency operating rooms flung open and all I could see were doctors and nurses running from desks to rooms and from rooms to other rooms carrying tubes and blood. I knew my dad was in one of those rooms, and at that moment all I could think about was running through them to find him. If he was conscious, he would want to see me! He would want to know that we were there and that everything would be alright! But before I could even breathe the doors shut again and we were told we had to move away from the doors. I went back in the room to Jackie and told her what the paramedics told me. It was then that she began to cry, and I just couldn't find the words to say. There was no way I could say, "It's going to be okay," or, "I'm so sorry." None of those words would ease the pain that she was experiencing. A doctor then came to us and told us that dad and Michelle were both being taken back for emergency surgery, and that we needed to go to the second floor waiting room to wait for more news. All they could tell us was that they were alive.
As we hurried down the hall and back by the doors to the ER to go to the second floor, my family was walking up. I saw my Aunt Hollie, Uncle Matthew, and my Great Uncle Doug holding my Grandma (my dad's mom) up, because she was crying so hard she could barely walk. When she walked in, the first person she looked at was me and she begged me to tell her if he was alright. For a split second, I considered not telling her yet, because I was terrified that it would send her over the edge. But there was no way that I could keep this from her, so I told her that he did lose his leg and that's all we know. There are many things I fear that I will never be able to get out of my mind, and one of those is my grandma's sobs as she tried to have strength to stand and breathe. When we were able to calm Grandma enough to walk, we headed upstairs to sit. Sit and wait for whatever fate was awaiting us by the end of the night.
As soon as we got upstairs, I witnessed one of the most moving and touching sights I have ever seen. Many people who live in my small hometown of Starke talk about how much they hate it because it's so small and everyone knows everyone's business, but I will never ever forget the people who piled in the waiting room and the people who called, sent texts, and posted on facebook. Friends and family came in the waiting room and sat with us for hours as we cried and prayed together and brought us an insane amount of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Hundreds of people sent out messages and posts to pray for my family. My friend, Laci, and her family had just experienced the loss of her dad to cancer just a month before my dad's accident. I can remember seeing her walk into the waiting room, after just losing her dad, to come comfort me as mine fought for his life. My heart was forever changed by witnessing so many people coming together for my family. As more people came, the more we heard, "We saw the ambulances and cars go by," or "We could hear so many sirens and I immediately knew something was wrong." There were so many puzzle pieces we would have to put together, and my brain just didn't know where to start. We did get a phone call that it did appear to be the people in the other lane's fault; they crossed the line and hit my dad and Michelle. It also was told to us that my dad was not wearing a helmet, but Michelle was. My Uncle Matthew, whom we call "Pooh", told me about how he found out. He was drinking coffee with his wife and in-laws when his phone rang. When he answered, a woman asked for Sharon. Pooh told her that he was Sharon's son, and the woman told my uncle that my dad was in a motorcycle accident and that it was very, very bad. She told him the location, and we laugh about it now, but he literally flew practically on two wheels to the scene. Right as he got there, he could see them loading my dad up into the ambulance, so he ran over and started to climb in when he had to be restrained. Thankfully, it was by paramedics and men who knew him, who explained that the medics were doing their best, and they couldn't risk him delaying that. They told my uncle where they were taking him, and that is how the phone calls got started. Apparently, my dad had told the people who found him to call my grandma, but gave them Pooh's number. At first, I have to admit, I wondered why he wouldn't have called me? But the more I think about it, the more thankful I am that God plans every detail, and I truly believe that I would not have handled it as well as my uncle did. My Uncle Pooh is the youngest out of my dad's three siblings, but he has done so much for his big brother. Hearing him tell me all of this made me so thankful for my family, and that we were bound and determined to plead to God to spare my daddy's life.
After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor finally came out and asked where my dad's family was. This doctor couldn't have been more that 120 pounds soaking wet, and stood at about 5-feet tall. As the crowd of people huddled in, he again asked where my dad's family was, and as I opened my mouth to respond, I heard my Uncle say loud and clear, "We're ALL family here." While some chuckled, I stood there absolutely terrified. I held my breath and prepared myself for whatever news the doctor would give. Did my dad die? Is he in a coma? Is his brain damaged? And with that, the doctor told us that dad was what they called "critically stable." He did lose his leg, his pelvis was very badly broken, and his arm was pretty mangled. They were unable to do any surgery due to dad's body not being strong enough to handle it, so they were taking him up to ICU to wait and hopefully perform surgery the next day. He told us that dad did have a small bruise on his brain, but that it was nothing to be concerned about, but other than that, there was no brain damage. It took me a minute to process all of this... I had prepared myself so much for the absolute worst, and my daddy was still alive!! We were told that the immediate family could go up to ICU, and that he had a "trauma name" that we would have to use to get in. Dad's name was Trauma Xavier. As we made our way upstairs, my heart was pounding so hard. I was sweating, but my whole body was shivering. My sister, Grandma, Aunt, and both Uncle's were the first one's to go back. As we began walking down the hall, with each step my resolve was fading. How am I going to do this? What am I about to see? As I walked into his room, it took my breath away. There were so, so many machines, tubes, monitors, and tears. Lots of tears. My daddy, the strongest man I have ever known. The man who I watched jump out of airplanes and fly to enemy soil to fight for his country; the man who built my tree house with his strong, worn hands; the man who taught me to be a fighter and to be brave, was laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator, fighting to live. I looked down and saw the one leg impression, and the flat surface where the other leg should be. I looked at the tubes down his nose and throat, and the one draining blood from his leg. I looked at his face, his big brown eyes were hidden under his eyelids, and I didn't know when I would have the chance to see them again. I looked at his hands that were so swollen, and in that moment, all I knew was that he had to live. If he didn't, I wasn't sure if I would ever make it myself. How could this be happening? How could this be real life? What are we going to do? Where are we going to go from here? As my family and I gathered around his bed and wept and prayed, a nurse came in. It turned out that she was actually from Starke, and knew my family. Once again, a God thing. She told us that his vitals were doing okay, but they would have to monitor him over night before they would know about surgery the next day. As we left his room and walked down to our cars around 3:30 in the morning, we were exhausted. We made it home around 4:30, and I took a hot shower and laid down. I can't say I went to sleep, because my mind was racing in so many directiosn. All I could think about was how I'm laying in my bed, and my dad is in a hospital fighting to stay alive. I'm pretty sure the last time I looked at the clock was 5:45, and we were back up at 6:30 to get back to the hospital for visiting hours to start at 8 am. That morning before we left for Gainesville is when I made my first facebook post. Never knowing the hundreds of people I would meet and people who would read them on a daily basis. Looking back on that night, I wish there was a way that I could allow you to feel the comfort and peace my family had around us. It wasn't a matter of how were we going to get through this, it was a matter of how GOD was going to get us through this. My dad is a son of the true Physician, and there were no better hands for him to be in. We knew that God's timing is perfect, and that there is always a greater reason for our trials, so we had to lean on the hope and truth that regardless of what happened, that God's will would be done. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I prayed so hard over and over, "Please God, don't take my daddy. Please." And how thankful I am that God spared his and Michelle's lives and began a journey that would change all of our lives in ways we never dreamed of.
Believe it or not, that was a condensed version of that night. There are so many other details and stories that I could tell you, but I'm pretty sure your eyes are probably burnt from looking at this screen for so long. Now you all know, somewhat, the events of that night from my perspective, I hope that when you read my posts that you all can have a connection with me and the meanings behind the words that I write. I hope to write another one this week sometime, since I am on spring break, but we will see how that goes. :) Thank you for taking time to read this post, and I ask that you continue to pray for my dad. This road is still bumpy, but we are learning to lean with the curves!
Blessings ~
Shelby
As we hung up, I suddenly realized that I was moments away from the hospital, and I had no clue what would be waiting for me when I got there. As we pulled in the ER loop, there was valet parking, so we literally ran out of the car and threw the keys to the guy and took off for the ER entrance. As we were heading towards the entrance, there were so many ambulances and cop cars with their lights on, so I knew that dad hadn't been there long. I went up to the desk and I didn't care that there were 50 people sitting there, I frantically blurted out that we were here for the motorcycle accident that just came in. The desk clerk immediately stood up and said to follow him. He took us through these double doors that lead back to the hall where they had apparently just brought dad and Michelle through, because there were paramedics standing there. The desk clerk brought us to a private room that only sat about 10 people to wait for whatever would happen next. As I rounded the corner and walked in the door, there sat Michelle's only daughter, Jackie, and her boyfriend, Jeremiah. Before the accident, I had only met Jackie once when my dad, Shane and I went to a Gator football game with Michelle. I felt so awkward, and had no idea what to say to the girl whose mom had just been injured riding a motorcycle with my dad. At that time, we didn't know what happened, so I had no clue if it was my dad's fault or someone else's fault. As I sat down across from her, I began to cry and all I could say was, "I'm so sorry that this has happened." Jackie and Jeremiah seemed calm, so I knew that Michelle must be alive still. I heard my mom talking to someone, so I went back out in the hall to find her talking to a few paramedics who had transported dad. We knew them personally, so we were hanging on their every word. They told us that they both were conscious and calm through the whole transport, and that dad was even talking to them on the way to the hospital about my sister and I. They told us that he did lose his leg pretty high up, and that they were trying to save Michelle's. About that time, I saw Kasey and Bro. Charles walking down the hallway towards us. As Kasey embraced me, the double doors to the emergency operating rooms flung open and all I could see were doctors and nurses running from desks to rooms and from rooms to other rooms carrying tubes and blood. I knew my dad was in one of those rooms, and at that moment all I could think about was running through them to find him. If he was conscious, he would want to see me! He would want to know that we were there and that everything would be alright! But before I could even breathe the doors shut again and we were told we had to move away from the doors. I went back in the room to Jackie and told her what the paramedics told me. It was then that she began to cry, and I just couldn't find the words to say. There was no way I could say, "It's going to be okay," or, "I'm so sorry." None of those words would ease the pain that she was experiencing. A doctor then came to us and told us that dad and Michelle were both being taken back for emergency surgery, and that we needed to go to the second floor waiting room to wait for more news. All they could tell us was that they were alive.
As we hurried down the hall and back by the doors to the ER to go to the second floor, my family was walking up. I saw my Aunt Hollie, Uncle Matthew, and my Great Uncle Doug holding my Grandma (my dad's mom) up, because she was crying so hard she could barely walk. When she walked in, the first person she looked at was me and she begged me to tell her if he was alright. For a split second, I considered not telling her yet, because I was terrified that it would send her over the edge. But there was no way that I could keep this from her, so I told her that he did lose his leg and that's all we know. There are many things I fear that I will never be able to get out of my mind, and one of those is my grandma's sobs as she tried to have strength to stand and breathe. When we were able to calm Grandma enough to walk, we headed upstairs to sit. Sit and wait for whatever fate was awaiting us by the end of the night.
As soon as we got upstairs, I witnessed one of the most moving and touching sights I have ever seen. Many people who live in my small hometown of Starke talk about how much they hate it because it's so small and everyone knows everyone's business, but I will never ever forget the people who piled in the waiting room and the people who called, sent texts, and posted on facebook. Friends and family came in the waiting room and sat with us for hours as we cried and prayed together and brought us an insane amount of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Hundreds of people sent out messages and posts to pray for my family. My friend, Laci, and her family had just experienced the loss of her dad to cancer just a month before my dad's accident. I can remember seeing her walk into the waiting room, after just losing her dad, to come comfort me as mine fought for his life. My heart was forever changed by witnessing so many people coming together for my family. As more people came, the more we heard, "We saw the ambulances and cars go by," or "We could hear so many sirens and I immediately knew something was wrong." There were so many puzzle pieces we would have to put together, and my brain just didn't know where to start. We did get a phone call that it did appear to be the people in the other lane's fault; they crossed the line and hit my dad and Michelle. It also was told to us that my dad was not wearing a helmet, but Michelle was. My Uncle Matthew, whom we call "Pooh", told me about how he found out. He was drinking coffee with his wife and in-laws when his phone rang. When he answered, a woman asked for Sharon. Pooh told her that he was Sharon's son, and the woman told my uncle that my dad was in a motorcycle accident and that it was very, very bad. She told him the location, and we laugh about it now, but he literally flew practically on two wheels to the scene. Right as he got there, he could see them loading my dad up into the ambulance, so he ran over and started to climb in when he had to be restrained. Thankfully, it was by paramedics and men who knew him, who explained that the medics were doing their best, and they couldn't risk him delaying that. They told my uncle where they were taking him, and that is how the phone calls got started. Apparently, my dad had told the people who found him to call my grandma, but gave them Pooh's number. At first, I have to admit, I wondered why he wouldn't have called me? But the more I think about it, the more thankful I am that God plans every detail, and I truly believe that I would not have handled it as well as my uncle did. My Uncle Pooh is the youngest out of my dad's three siblings, but he has done so much for his big brother. Hearing him tell me all of this made me so thankful for my family, and that we were bound and determined to plead to God to spare my daddy's life.
After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor finally came out and asked where my dad's family was. This doctor couldn't have been more that 120 pounds soaking wet, and stood at about 5-feet tall. As the crowd of people huddled in, he again asked where my dad's family was, and as I opened my mouth to respond, I heard my Uncle say loud and clear, "We're ALL family here." While some chuckled, I stood there absolutely terrified. I held my breath and prepared myself for whatever news the doctor would give. Did my dad die? Is he in a coma? Is his brain damaged? And with that, the doctor told us that dad was what they called "critically stable." He did lose his leg, his pelvis was very badly broken, and his arm was pretty mangled. They were unable to do any surgery due to dad's body not being strong enough to handle it, so they were taking him up to ICU to wait and hopefully perform surgery the next day. He told us that dad did have a small bruise on his brain, but that it was nothing to be concerned about, but other than that, there was no brain damage. It took me a minute to process all of this... I had prepared myself so much for the absolute worst, and my daddy was still alive!! We were told that the immediate family could go up to ICU, and that he had a "trauma name" that we would have to use to get in. Dad's name was Trauma Xavier. As we made our way upstairs, my heart was pounding so hard. I was sweating, but my whole body was shivering. My sister, Grandma, Aunt, and both Uncle's were the first one's to go back. As we began walking down the hall, with each step my resolve was fading. How am I going to do this? What am I about to see? As I walked into his room, it took my breath away. There were so, so many machines, tubes, monitors, and tears. Lots of tears. My daddy, the strongest man I have ever known. The man who I watched jump out of airplanes and fly to enemy soil to fight for his country; the man who built my tree house with his strong, worn hands; the man who taught me to be a fighter and to be brave, was laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator, fighting to live. I looked down and saw the one leg impression, and the flat surface where the other leg should be. I looked at the tubes down his nose and throat, and the one draining blood from his leg. I looked at his face, his big brown eyes were hidden under his eyelids, and I didn't know when I would have the chance to see them again. I looked at his hands that were so swollen, and in that moment, all I knew was that he had to live. If he didn't, I wasn't sure if I would ever make it myself. How could this be happening? How could this be real life? What are we going to do? Where are we going to go from here? As my family and I gathered around his bed and wept and prayed, a nurse came in. It turned out that she was actually from Starke, and knew my family. Once again, a God thing. She told us that his vitals were doing okay, but they would have to monitor him over night before they would know about surgery the next day. As we left his room and walked down to our cars around 3:30 in the morning, we were exhausted. We made it home around 4:30, and I took a hot shower and laid down. I can't say I went to sleep, because my mind was racing in so many directiosn. All I could think about was how I'm laying in my bed, and my dad is in a hospital fighting to stay alive. I'm pretty sure the last time I looked at the clock was 5:45, and we were back up at 6:30 to get back to the hospital for visiting hours to start at 8 am. That morning before we left for Gainesville is when I made my first facebook post. Never knowing the hundreds of people I would meet and people who would read them on a daily basis. Looking back on that night, I wish there was a way that I could allow you to feel the comfort and peace my family had around us. It wasn't a matter of how were we going to get through this, it was a matter of how GOD was going to get us through this. My dad is a son of the true Physician, and there were no better hands for him to be in. We knew that God's timing is perfect, and that there is always a greater reason for our trials, so we had to lean on the hope and truth that regardless of what happened, that God's will would be done. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I prayed so hard over and over, "Please God, don't take my daddy. Please." And how thankful I am that God spared his and Michelle's lives and began a journey that would change all of our lives in ways we never dreamed of.
Believe it or not, that was a condensed version of that night. There are so many other details and stories that I could tell you, but I'm pretty sure your eyes are probably burnt from looking at this screen for so long. Now you all know, somewhat, the events of that night from my perspective, I hope that when you read my posts that you all can have a connection with me and the meanings behind the words that I write. I hope to write another one this week sometime, since I am on spring break, but we will see how that goes. :) Thank you for taking time to read this post, and I ask that you continue to pray for my dad. This road is still bumpy, but we are learning to lean with the curves!
Blessings ~
Shelby
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