One year later....we meet again.

 I walked through the double doors that took me into the emergency waiting room. I opened my mouth to inform the girl playing on her phone at admitting that my son was there. She pushed the button to let me back before I had even finished my sentence. I resented it.  Apparently, they'd been expecting me. 


I walked through the doors by myself and to this day don't know if my friend was giving me privacy or if she was instructed that she couldn't come with me. Regardless, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and the large double doors closed quietly behind me. For the brief moment I was alone, I contemplated sliding down the wall and waiting for someone to find me.  The doorways were sprinkled with nurses and as I walked the wide hallway they seemed to part from me.  I actually believe by definition, the word scampered would be more appropriate. They avoided eye contact at all cost and I remember thinking for a minute that some poor bastard drew the short straw that night. Someone would have to sit me down and give me the bad news.  You know the whole car wreck analogy? The one where you don't want to look but just can't help your eyes from wandering?  Well this particular night, I was the car wreck and no one wanted to look.  They resisted as long as they could but the moment I passed by them, I felt their eyes on me... I resented this too.


I turned a corner and saw my husband... He'd aged ten years since I'd seen him last.  He was speaking with one of the EMT's who had brought Riggs in and frankly the guy looked bored.  I discovered over the next several days that when people are in shock they retell their story multiple times trying to make sense of what happened. It's as though they hyper focus on details when the reality is, the details don't really matter at this point. 


Matt turned and spotted me, stopping mid sentence and making a b-line for me. He threw his arms around me and I thought for a minute that he would crush me. We embraced in the middle of the ER with the eyes of EMT's, nurses, and less significant patients on us.  On this particular night, we were the trauma case that shook things up in the emergency room. Nurses would be going home at the end of their shift and discussing MY son at their dinner tables. 


Matt pulled away from me and to this day, I remember how terrible he looked. My fashion conscious husband stood covered in mud in the middle of the ER. He wore a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, dirt bike shorts, black socks, and sandals...I almost wanted to laugh. One look at his dirt covered face reminded me of the severity of our situation. It made the tear streaks on his cheeks that much more noticeable.  


I turned my head to the left and spotted my little Tucker sitting alone in a waiting room with the door propped open.   He was sitting with one boot off, clutching his hands together in prayer while at the same time holding a bed pan with his elbows should he need to vomit. Behind Matt was a room that had a curtain drawn and the incessant buzzing of doctor's and nurses made it clear that whatever was going on behind there was of the utmost importance.  
I knew without a doubt that it was Riggs. 
I looked into the eyes of my husband and they seemed to plead with me. They begged me to take over so he could just unravel. 


In that moment, I recognized that the burden was now mine and that falling apart wasn't an option. I had to go deep to find my strength or I'd never make it.  I never fell apart. To this day, I have yet to fall apart. 


I looked at my 3 equally needy boys and then turned to the medic next to me. I turned to this stranger and asked "where should I go first"?.  He nodded his head towards Tucker and I left Matt standing alone. I pushed the door open to find my 11 year old sitting in a room with 6 chairs, a bible, and a television with the sound turned down. I remember thinking did someone ACTUALLY put cartoons on for this kid?...He needed a whole lot more than Spongebob right then and I quietly reached up and turned the T.V. off.  I kneeled in front of him and let him tell me what I already knew.  He too was in shock and needed to re-tell the story over and over. I just listened.


I'm not sure what I was expecting but no one offered any words of encouragement or support. We were a soap opera that night and our lives were being played out for those in the emergency room. The behavior of those working that night was a bit stand offish. It was if they were giving our family space that we didn't yet know we needed.


I thought that perhaps God was giving us the gift of being together when we said goodbye to Riggs.  It was evident that we all thought we were still going to lose him.  It was just going to be a little "tidier" this way.  I felt relief for Matt that he wouldn't have been alone with him when it happened. Somehow in the insanity of all this, I felt grateful for that small blessing.


I stayed with Tucker purposely avoiding Riggs. If we are being honest, I really didn't want to see him.  I knew that he was in bad shape and I also knew that there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Tuckers and my moment was stolen when a doctor followed by Matt pushed the door open and I was asked to come with them. I was informed that we were waiting for the Children's hospital ambulance to arrive so that Riggs could be transported to a better hospital.  He was considered too critical for where we were and had the weather been better, would have been eligible to have been life flighted.  The lightning was still out of control and it would have been considered too risky.
  Matt started walking towards the curtain and I paused. What kind of mother would I be if I admitted I didn't want to see my child who was clinging to life?...I hung my head and followed.


The curtain was drawn back and there lay my barely 14 year old son. Respectfully, the EMT's parted. This time,however, they were stepping aside to grant me access to my child.  Even Matt stood back and allowed me to take it all in.  My hesitation to see him quickly subsided and I walked quietly towards him and took his IV'd hand in mine.  He looked small in comparison to the machines and the uniformed men that surrounded him. He was bare chested and dirty from the combination of riding and weathering the storm...literally. 
The only thing I could think of to say was "I'm here". I touched the tubes connected to his face and hands and took a deep breath when I noticed the large tube down his throat.  One of the nurses must have read my curious face and answered my unasked question. "That's to help him breath", she said. "He is under too much stress to do that on his own right now".  "Oh". was all I could think of to say.


Remembering that I had left my friend in the waiting room, I excused myself to bring her up to speed.  I pushed the button to open the double doors and was greeted by several somber faced neighbors and members from my church. We hadn't been at the hospital but 45 minutes.  I found it amazing how quickly bad news traveled.  At that moment, none had anything to offer but they had come out in a fierce storm to just be with us and that meant perhaps more than anything they could have done for us.


Our bishop and a friend came prepared to give Riggs a blessing (which is something in our faith that we draw strength from during times like these). I thought of all the times Matt had been called out to hospitals and homes to bless others throughout our marriage. This night was different. Others had left their own families for our benefit. We were grateful...and desperate.


It has been my experience that others not of our faith (especially in hospital settings) are always respectful of our beliefs and will in almost all cases, step outside of the room in an attempt to give privacy.  This particular night, our bishop and friend placed their hands on Riggs head to give him a blessing.  Matt quietly asked for privacy and the medics in the room didn't budge. Due to Riggs condition, they couldn't afford to leave him...and so they didn't.  The minute we said "amen", the EMT's began working and swiftly took him away.  I was told that I would be riding in the ambulance with him so as they were putting him in for transport, I stepped out to tell my friends goodbye. 


Being the control freak that I am, I tend to give orders. This night, I was overwhelmed to say the least.I relinquished my control and trusted others to take care of my family.  A friend took Tucker and another kept Bella (who at this point still didn't know what was going on).  I watched some of Matt's buddies take him home so he could clean up and pack me a bag. They walked with him, holding him up by the elbows.  He limped out of the emergency room with his own injuries untreated.  I have never seen him look so weak.  I knew that every ounce of strength he had went into keeping Riggs alive...he didn't have anything left for himself.


I climbed up into the ambulance. They had sent the stretch limo of all ambulances and I was again reminded of the severity of our situation. Two men were driving, three were in the back making sure that Riggs remained stable, and I sat on a bench seat alone.  I remember thinking for what this ride was going to cost me, I really should enjoy it.


The sirens wailed. And we were off.


On a side note...
I was trying to catch an hour of sleep this afternoon when my cell phone rang. When I didn't answer, it rang again. I grabbed it quick the second time around. It was Matt informing me that Tucker had been at a friends house, had fallen, and hurt his face skateboarding. Having just flown in on a red eye this morning, I was tired and irritated that upon having just dropping him off at a friends, I was now going to have to go and pick him up. I arrived at his friends house, accessed the situation and recognized that he needed stitches, even if just a few.  I phoned Matt to meet us at the hospital. We were already aware that we would be returning to the exact same hospital we had been exactly one year earlier but it wasn't until we were walking in together that Matt pointed out we were walking in at the exact same time as we were one year ago today...what are the odds?
As we were having him admitted, the sky turned grey. And then it turned black. Upon seeing the stress Bella was under, Matt ordered me to get her home. I buckled her in the car and tried to calm her as we pulled out of the hospital.  We were about halfway home when the lightning began followed by pouring rain.  She buried her little head in her hands and cried the whole way home.  


It occurred to me that yes, we are one year out from this mess. Riggs is still with us. I am grateful. I am blessed. However...
 The reality is that we often overcome one issue only to turn the corner and confront another. This is where we are at now. People often ask me how Riggs is doing. For the most part, he's fine.
For the most part, we're all fine.


For the most part.


 I drove home at 15 miles an hour squinting through the pounding rain and wondered if God really could be this cruel.
 Another thought followed...maybe, just maybe, he just has a really bad sense of humor.


Tonight, one year later, my family is all under one roof. They are sleeping soundly in their beds. I was able to kiss each child good night. I will curl up with my husband (who now sleeps with headphones on when it rains) and give thanks to God and his awful sense of humor that the worst is behind us.


We hope anyways.