Last night, my friend Mary and I sat at my dining room table wrapping up our writing critique meeting. I had just finished telling Mary that my moving from Oregon to California was one of the few things that my older daughter Melissa understood and accepted. That's when Melissa called me.
" Mom," she said on the phone, "I've got a sort of emergency."
"An emergency? What's wrong?"
"Well, I just got hit by a car. What's your address?" She sounded so nonchalant, as if she was calling to ask me to give her a ride home from work.
"What? Hit by a car? Where are you? What happened?" I shouted.
She said she was on the corner of Calderon and Church Streets close to downtown Mountain View, and the paramedics were there with her.
"Give me just a few minutes, and I'll be there."
I had to say good-bye to Mary and take off. Mike was there, and I told him I had to leave. As I pulled out of the driveway, Megan came running around the corner.
"Mom! I'm going with you," she shouted, and she jumped into the passenger seat. We got to the intersection of Calderon and Church in about five minutes. My heart skipped a beat as I saw an ambulance and a police car, and I had a tight feeling in my chest.
Melissa sat on the hood of the ambulance surrounded by two paramedics. She was holding her left wrist. She wore a dark blue Round Table Pizza shirt. Her long jean shorts revealed scratches on both of her legs where she had fallen.
The paramedics, two younger gentlemen in uniforms, introduced themselves to me. "She refused to be taken to the hospital by ambulance, but we recommend you take her there," one told me.
"I don't want to get stuck with the ambulance bill," said Melissa.
"Okay, I'll take her." I said. Melissa pointed to a silver bike at the corner. I hadn't realized at first that she was riding a bike when this happened. Also, there was a plastic bag with a small Round Table pizza in it. Somehow, Melissa had managed to salvage the pizza.
I helped Melissa get to the passenger seat of my car. She said she didn't feel any pain at first, but now she hurt all over. Apparently, the driver of the vehicle that hit her had stopped and given her phone number.
"But, it was my fault," said Melissa. "I didn't look both ways."
We managed to cram Jamie's bike into the backseat of my Toyota Corolla, which is no easy feat, and Megan sat in back with the bike. I drove Melissa to the emergency room of El Camino Hospital off Grant Road in Mountain View.
Melissa groaned and held an ice pack on her left wrist and hand, which she said hurt real bad. "And, my friends and I are supposed to go to the Oz Fest tomorrow. It's an all day thing. I can't miss it!"
"Don't worry about that right now," I said, as I turned down North Street towards the hospital and the emergency room. "The last time I was here was around four years ago when Megan broke her arm. Remember that?"
"I remember," said Megan, who was in the back seat, squished with the bike.
"And, then there was the time when you had a concussion, Melissa -- when the brakes went out on the bike you were riding and you rode right into that pole?"
"Yeah," said Melissa.
"Maybe you should stay away from bikes," I said. Melissa didn't find it funny at all.
"I want to smoke a cigarette!" she said.
"You don't need a cigarette. C'mon."
I pulled up in front of the emergency room where several people stood around with a couple of people in wheelchairs. I helped Melissa get out of the car so she wouldn't have to walk very far. Megan helped Melissa inside, and after circling the emergency room about five times, I finally found a parking spot.
When I finally made it into the emergency room, Melissa was filling out paperwork to put into a large box for the Triage Nurse. A long line had already formed behind her because writing was laborious and time consuming for her. Melissa was oblivious to it all. After about five minutes, she slipped the piece of paper into the box, and we found places to sit in the already overcrowded emergency room at El Camino Hospital.
Megan and Melissa sat together, and I sat next to a young, thin guy with crutches and a splint on his leg. He moved his crutches out of the way so I could sit down.
"This is going to take ages!" said Melissa, looking around.
"Yeah, like four hours at least," said the guy sitting next to me. "I'm still waiting."
I looked at my cell phone which said 8:45 p.m. and sighed. Melissa shook her head. "No matter what, I'm going to Oz Fest tomorrow! No way am I gonna miss that. Ouch! Now my legs are starting to hurt, and this cold pack isn't very cold anymore."
"Maybe if you had taken the ambulance in, they would've seen you sooner."
Melissa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right Mom."
The guy next to me shook his head. "Nope, that doesn't help, although they did put the splint on my leg. I still have to wait, and I got into a motorcycle accident."
We looked at the guy's leg, and it was obvious he was in some pain.
"Mom, I really need a cigarette!" Melissa wailed.
"I thought you quit smoking."
"I did, but now I need a cigarette. I need to go outside and smoke."
"No, you don't need to smoke. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Sooner or later, they'll take care of you."
"It's okay Melissa," said Megan. She put her arm around Melissa's shoulders and Melissa hugged her.
"Megan, what happened to your face?" Melissa said. "It looks sunburned! Don't you use sun block?"
"Most of the time, but I forgot one day," said Megan. Her freckled face did look pretty red.
"You must use sun block all the time Megan. Or, you'll get skin cancer!"
Megan looked genuinely frightened.
"Don't scare her like that," I said.
"Well, it's true. Oh man, I can't move my wrist at all."
"Just hang in there Melissa." I said.
We sat there for a few minutes wondering how many hours we'd be in the emergency room as more people poured in.
"I think someone died about three hours ago," said the young man sitting next to me.
Melissa, Megan and I all looked at each other. "Ohhhh."
"That's part of the reason it's taking so long." The guy's voice was soft, but clear.
"That's probably it," I said.
"But, mostly, it's because of President Bush's latest tax cut! That's why we have to sit in emergency rooms for so long. It's those Republicans!"
"Yeah, those damned Republicans," I said, looking around the emergency room where people stared at us, wondering if expressing political opinions at this time was a good thing at this particular time.
"Why don't we have national health care in this country? Because of the greedy corporations and the Republicans!"
"Yeah!" I said. I figured we had to blame long waits in emergency rooms on someone or something. After all, we couldn't possibly blame the hardworking doctors and nurses who were doing the best they could to take care of everyone.
"Clinton had a great national health care plan, but what happened? It was shot down. That figures!" the young, soft spoken man went on.
"Yeah! I don't understand it either. I liked the national health care idea," I said. "Those Republicans!"
People stared at us with blank faces. Two little kids, a girl and a boy, ran around in circles screaming. Melissa laughed in spite of the pain she was in.
A nurse came out from a huge door and called out some names. Apparently, the young man next to me was one of them. "Finally," he said, as he slowly got up and I handed him his crutches.
The Triage nurse finally called Melissa's name, and Megan and I went into the little room with her. The nurse asked a whole bunch of questions like, "Did you wear a helmet while riding a bike?" Of course Melissa said no. She asked how badly she hurt on a scale of one to ten, and Melissa said, "Eight!"
She took Melissa's blood pressure and checked her eyes and wrote stuff down on paper.
"She doesn't have insurance. Is that okay?" I asked.
"It's okay. She's got to be seen by a doctor."
We had to go back out into the waiting room so that Melissa could be seen by a doctor, heaven knows when. Melissa asked to borrow my cell phone. She called her friend Valery and told her what happened. She called her brother Jeremy and told him what happened.
"Can you believe it?" said Melissa. "And, I had big plans tonight and tomorrow! It's so unfair. Just my luck."
Melissa and Megan looked at Glamor and YM Magazines which were lying on tables. I left in such a hurry that I didn't even have my backpack with notebook or book. Megan finally fell asleep lying across two chairs. Melissa's friends Valery, Alex and a girl I didn't know named Larissa showed up to keep us company.
"Every muscle in every part of my body aches!" said Melissa, as her friends walked in.
Alex's hair was cut sort of like a Mohawk. "What happened to you?" I asked.
"Oh, I got drunk and asked one of my friends to cut my hair, and this is what happened." Alex laughed.
"Ohh no. Well, it'll grow," I said.
"This is taking forever," said Melissa. "I don't know how much longer I can wait."
We had to relay the whole story to Melissa's friends.
"Well, we have great seats at the Oz Fest tomorrow," said Alex. "And, we're supposed to be there by around nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
It was already after eleven, going on midnight.
"Good luck," I said.
"Oh man. I can't miss Marilyn Manson or Corn!" said Melissa, "or Ozzy of course."
I admitted that I didn't care for Marilyn Manson or Corn much -- "But, I do like Ozzie."
"Oh no, don't get her started!" said Melissa, as I began relaying my stories of concerts I'd seen in the 1970's.
"It's okay," said Alex. "I like to hear about it."
I went out to the car and sneaked the small Round Table Pizza, half pepperoni, half cheese, into the waiting room (you're not supposed to bring food into the waiting room) so we could all have some. By midnight, we were all pretty hungry.
Finally, Melissa's name was called and she limped beyond the big, heavy door that I remembered from the time Megan broke her arm years ago. Megan was fast asleep stretched across two chairs. I wished I could fall asleep anywhere, any time like she can.
"After a while, I decided to go back and see how she was doing. Only one person was allowed to be with a patient. I had to get a special pass from a security guard just to go in the back, and I felt important with my sticker name tag as I was "buzzed" in by the security guard.
I found Melissa lying on a Gurney in Exam Room 3. She looked tired and spaced out. "The doctor said I'm going to hurt all over, and they have to do x-rays on my hand and on my wrist. I sure hope they hurry up. I wanna get out of here." Melissa wore one of those hospital gowns and a hospital wrist band.
A nurse came in a couple of minutes later. "Now I'm going to give you a pain pill before you get your x-rays. Here you go." She handed Melissa a pill and a paper cup of water. Melissa gulped it down.
Just then, my cell phone rang. Who would be calling me after midnight? It was Valery from out in the waiting room calling from her cell phone. "How's Melissa doing?"
"Ma'am, you aren't allowed to use cell phones back here," said the nurse, so I hung up.
"Sorry," I said.
When Melissa came back from the x-rays, she was feeling no pain.
"I'm going to give you some more pain killers and muscle relaxers to take home with you tonight as well." said the nurse. She gave Melissa a whole bunch of Vicodins and some sort of muscle relaxer.
"Oh cool," said Melissa, who was now feeling no pain.
Melissa fractured her wrist and broke her thumb and aches all over. But, she's going to be okay. Her hand and wrist were wrapped, and she has a sling. Apparently, she'll need a cast. She left with her friends, while I dragged Megan out to the car and went home -- after 1:00 a.m. And, I had to get up and go to work this morning.
Today I called to find out how Melissa was doing. First, I called Valery who was at the Oz Fest. She had to shout to talk to me. "Melissa wasn't feeling well, so she's resting at Jamie's house. She's with her brother Jeremy and she'll join us later before Corn comes on!"
So, I called Jeremy on his cell phone who told me Melissa was sleeping on the couch at Jamie's house.
"Is she all right?" I asked.
"Yeah, she's okay," said Jeremy. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll look out for her. Love you."
"Okay, tell Melissa I love her and to call me if she needs anything. Bye."
I hung up the phone, thinking, "Jeremy is looking out for Melissa."
Somehow, I know she'll be okay.

Always,

Melody
New email address: melodywrites@comcast.net
http://www.deadjournal.com/users/melodywrites/