I no longer have the right to say, "I feel like I got hit by a truck"

I have a plaque that my mom gave me that says "I know God won't give me more than I can handle, I just wish He didn't trust me so much".  That seems to be a theme in my crazy life.  In the challenges of life that I face, I like to think I handle them with grace and humor (a lot of humor). As my little monster is sleeping peacefully on the couch while I write, I am humbled by the grace (and sometimes humor) others have shown to me over the past week.  If you Facebook stalk me (I know there are at least 121 of you according to the "likes" on my status update) you know THE story. If you don't stalk me, then you have to wait for the stories! I suppose they are worth the wait.

6 days ago the little monster (who is now 12 and not so little) escaped, hopped on his scooter, took off in the middle of the road, and was hit by a car.  You know how sometimes you wonder how you would react if you were in a trauma situation with your child...well, now I know...we'll leave it at that.    Dad was there about 20 seconds after it happened, and I was there a minute or two after that.  It was dark.  Aaron was wearing dark clothes (and no shoes).  He was riding his scooter in the middle of the road.  It was a country road with no sidewalks or street lights.  It was an accident.  The driver pulled over and called 911.We are still waiting for the police report to piece together exactly what happened because we were with Aaron, but my heart goes out to the driver.  I cannot imagine the images he will live with. 

Aaron was transported to the closest hospital, and a trauma team was working on him when I got there.  Amazingly, his vitals were stable, he had no internal injuries and no broken bones (kind of).  A CT scan showed a multiple fractured skull, and an epidural hematoma that was pushing his brain 6mm over.  They decided to transport him to the major trauma hospital where he underwent emergency surgery to remove the clot.  It's surreal listening to a neurosurgeon matter-of-factly telling you how they are going to remove a chunk of your son's skull, remove the clot, and hopefully they'll be able to put it back on right away, but they may have to refrigerate it for a few days to let the swelling go down.  They are confident (at least they sounded confident) that once they get rid of the blood clot he'll make a full recovery.  By this time it's 1:45 in the morning and they are wheeling him away to surgery. For two hours husband, four friends and I waited for the surgeon to come in and let us know that not only did they get the clot, but there was no bruising inside the brain and they were able to reattach his skull, titanium plate and all (oh and they didn't shave his head--totally weird)! He should make a full recovery.  He was finished with surgery around 5:00 am Tuesday morning and he was discharged at noon on Thursday.  2 days after brain surgery he got to go home.  2 days. Aaron is recovering nicely...I'm sure he feels like crap and has a nasty headache, but he looks better every day. Everyone's comment is (even when he was in the hospital), "he looks a lot better than I thought he would".

True to who we are, there have been funny moments in this story: Bryan Adams lyrics that were spoken and not sung at 3:30 in the morning while Aaron is in surgery and we're delirious from how long we've been up and needing some comic relief from the gravity of the situation.  The next day one of the nurses asked me if he was wearing a helmet, and of course the answer was no.  She asked me if we had one and I told her that we did.  She said that if we didn't have one that they would send us home with one (how nice)--I asked her if they looked cool because I might change my answer.  She laughed and told me they weren't all that cool, so I kept my original answer. We also found out that neurosurgeons don't have the same sense of humor that we do.  As they are explaining traumatic brain injury husband asks, "so does this mean he can't jump on the trampoline or ride a scooter as soon as we get home?"  They answered him like he was serious and they couldn't believe this idiot would think those activities were okay.  I'm also thinking, what else do I need to do to make the news? I mean, come on.  With my stories???  But then I think, there would probably be a bunch of idiots out there commenting on what kind of parent wouldn't watch their child...blah blah blah, and then I would be mad and need medication so I didn't rip some heads off--that wouldn't be good.  

A lot has happened in the past week, so much that I could write a novel that would put you to sleep, but the theme is: my family is loved. Prayers, rides, food at the hospital, groceries, meals, cleaning, visits, looking out for my other two kids, getting Aaron's room ready for him to come home, and offers of help are too numerous to count. Different friends and family have played different roles, and apparently I still need to learn to accept help from others. (For those of you who really know me--that's totally lame because I can do it myself!) We are so blessed.  I am hoping that I can get back to writing harmless antics that Aaron has done rather than this craziness, but for now, here we are.

The first day we were at the hospital a dear friend brought me a gift that brought a much needed laugh.  If I remember correctly, they taste nasty together, but tomorrow I'm planning on seeing if the combination tastes as nasty as I remember--just in case.  :)