You know that moment between "he's had an accident" and "he's okay; he's just shattered his pelvis" where everything else that could have gone wrong goes wrong? And that other moment when you have to call someone else and go through the same thing again and everything pretty much sucks even though you know your brother is okay even though he's being airlifted to Harborview due to a gear malfunction resulting in a motor bike accident and then you have to go to a meeting and tell people things you told them at the last three meetings and some of them still aren't listening?
Right. That's what happened right around 5:30pm today.
But he really is okay. This is the sporty brother, obviously. He's broken a variety of bones in a variety of ways his entire life, all of which have involved having been in the air and then landing. Skateboards, snowboards, dirtbikes...uh, the riding lawnmower. It's kinda like having lived on the farm: these things are expected. Not preferred, but there are things that are worse.
This is not to say that I don't worry. But it is to say that I don't want to take care of some Little Attic Birdy who thinks I need taking care of when all I want is to be left alone. I'd really prefer to talk to my own family and read quietly or talk to friends who know "he's okay" really means that and who then want to talk about other moments of horrible injuries. If he'd not been okay, well, then I'd be with my family or calling the Fat Boys and not wanting to hear about other moments of horrible injuries at all.
But, yo, he's okay. And he's going to be really pissed when those drugs wear off.
Posted by Ida at August 25, 2003 11:43 PMThe Galt's siblings and siblings-in-law have been staying over here the last week between visits to the nephew at harborview, who thought it might be a good idea to leap from a third-story balcony onto a nearby pine tree.
Generally speaking, "I think I can make it from here" is a harbinger of bad things to come.
(And I know you said you didn't wanna hear tales of similar accidents, but I just think there's a lot of this pelvis-breaking going around. Probably has to do with that big Mars conjunction happening.)
hearts you, fatboy.
Posted by: sjet at August 26, 2003 08:19 AMSee, this is how it works. Let's hear it for non-hovering nice! (And the kaibash was only on similar accidents if he'd not been okay, which he is.)
Erin and I are going to the hospital now to meet up with my mother and Ian. Nathan's going into surgery sometime this morning. Soon he'll have pins and a plate in his pelvis. Then he can be all like our grandpa and say "kick me in the pelvis as hard as you can."
Posted by: Ida at August 26, 2003 08:46 AMHm, okay so that certainly explains aspects of the meeting, especially the "I've said this same thing at three different meetings & you're still not listening" vibe. I think I totally picked up on that.
And yes, I'm glad he's okay, and no I don't have any interesting stories of a similar nature, so we'll just leave it at that.
Posted by: THE COMTE at August 26, 2003 10:28 AMOnce when I was six I broke my cousin's arm by accident. We were chasing each other around on our dirt bikes and I did that thing where I rode up behind her and skitched her back wheel with my front one. We used to do it all the time in Eugene but I guess nobody knew that trick in Stanwood because she went down like she was on fire. My bike hit her bike and I went right over her and landed on my face.
When we got up she was crying and holding her arm and going, "It's broken, it's broken!" And I was, like, "No it's not. Jesus. You just fell off your bike." Then my other cousin went and got my aunt and uncle and they drove her to the hosptial and, sure enough, it was broken.
And I remember afterwards just being like, "Oh for fuck's sake. Who breaks their stupid arm falling off a stupid bicycle?"
Which pretty much describes my attitude about most times I hurt people by accident.
Anyway, her growth plates healed funny and now she's really short. But I don't really take responsibility for that part since she broke her arm at least three other times that had nothing to do with me and my Grampa said she had weak bones to begin with.
One my college classmates called last night and left a message on my voicemail. He has a sort of laconic, California-boy way of speaking, so when he said, "Hi... I'm calling about our friend A..." I had enough time for 'ohmygod he's dead he's dead he's dead what happened to A? what happened? is he dead? is he dead?' before the next sentence: "Aaaaaaaaaand, he's moving... so we're throwing him a party."
So, yeah. I know that moment.
Posted by: fbm at August 28, 2003 02:04 PM