Warning: Another lengthy post ahead.
~Mom circa 1969~
I know, right? My mother is beautiful! Dad says he married her for her looks. I agree she's pretty foxy, but if you think she's gorgeous outside, you should get to know her inside.
Ugh. I'm having such a hard time figuring out what I want to say about Mom. Every word I type (compassionate, kind, generous, funny, intelligent...) are just not enough. She really is the most fabulous person I know. She's a lady. She's patient. She's forgiving. Ooo, ooo, ooo! I've got a story about that. To preface this story, let's just say, I'm glad she's still around to celebrate another birthday.
The Accident of 1994
So, one day, mom and I went to "town" to get groceries ("town" is roughly 35 miles away). I had already failed my driving test twice, so I was driving with the authority of a permit. We were driving my grandparents car for reasons too long to go into now. They had those super cool automatic seat belts, remember those? They just don't make 'em like they did back then. On the way there, I noticed a RED lever and asked mom about it. "Oh, that's the emergency seat belt release in case you get in an accident." Long story short, I rolled the car on our way home. I was able to crawl out my door and as I was trying to get her door open, those rad automatic seat belts started to move. Since we landed upside down, and mom was suspended from them, the movement of the seat belts started to choke her. I couldn't get her door open, it was a little, okay a lot, crushed. I ran around to my side, crawled through and yes, I had to use the emergency seat belt release. When I did that, she fell to the top of the car (remember it was upside down) and felt a little pain in her neck. I don't know what my next move would have been. Drag her across the bucket seat and out the driver side door? She never gave me the option. She told me not to move her, her neck hurt. This is where the Brenda drama and panic set in. I ran to the side of the road to try to flag someone down. Within seconds, a caravan of 5 or 6 cars were driving right past me. How fortunate they hadn't been caravaning down the road 1 minute earlier, right? Stupid 16 year old driver.
My panic wasn't subsiding (like I said, I USED to be drama). Mom didn't help me out, she kept calling for me and asking me what happened. I would tell her, then she would ask why we had grandma's car. I would explain. Then she would start asking all over again. Very calmly, mind you. Mom is not easily ruffled, even in a life threatening accident. I think it bugged her that she couldn't remember the details. Freaked me out though! Anyway, firetrucks and ambulances were called. Our Bishop drove by and I chased him down (all hail Bishop Ted). Our little county fire department almost got to use their "jaws of life", before someone suggested pulling her through the driver side on a stretcher. As a little tangent here, the ambulance guys were not all that impressive. They put Mom's neck brace on upside down, took us to the wrong hospital and then charged us for a knee injury that I never had.
To make matters worse, Dad was driving to intercept us (he needed a car part in "town"-this was before cell phones) and passed the accident scene. You know those dramatic hospital scenes in movies? The one where the concerned husband bursts through the glass doors of the emergency room demanding information on his wife. I totally witnessed that. Dad flies through the double doors, sees me, and says this with nostrils flaring: "I guess you're not ready to drive yet". He denies it to this day, but the rest of you know enough not to bet against my memory. Then he was briefed by Ted, who unfortunately told him all the incompetence of the EMT's. That set him off a little bit and he started yelling, no, screaming at the nursing staff, demanding she be moved to a different hospital. To defend dad, when he's scared, he acts out in anger. The man must have been terrified. Ted calmed him down (all hail Bishop Ted). The X-rays confirmed the break and then she was transported to a bigger hospital for surgery. I got to ride home with Ted and Jean and then face Matt. Another one who acts out in anger when he's scared. I don't blame them. I deserved it.
The next day, we went to see Mom before she went into surgery. It was horrible. She was in traction. If you don't know what that is, basically, they screw your head to a metal frame so it's immobile. Screws. Metal screws in her temple. Let the bawl fest begin. I sobbed and apologized over and over. She, of course, was comforting me, the irresponsible teen who dang near paralyzed her. She went on to have three vertebrae fused together with bone from her hip. She came home with a walker! I suck! I suck so bad! The girls came home from Utah to help out. Friends, neighbors, and ward members fed us for who knows how long. People were even stealing our laundry during the day while Mom was still in the hospital (we're not big on locking doors). I do have pictures of the twisted metal that was my grandparents car. I just can't find them. Maybe later, eh?
~Still standing~
She's never made me feel guilty about that accident. Of course, with my dear siblings, she's never had to. I wish I could say I was the perfect daughter after that, to make up for disabling her. On the contrary, I was a rotten little thing at times. She's forgiven me for that, as well.
I wish I were more like Mom. She's quiet, and sensible, and sweet. Like I said, a lady. I miss her so much. So, happy birthday Mom! Hope you enjoyed the trip down memory lane, even if I was driving.
