The Pillars that Keep Us Going
I'm doing better. Much better than last week and the week before to tell the truth. The panic attacks have stopped and I no longer start sobbing the moment someone mentions Acie's name. He's doing better and because of that so am I.
For those of you who don't know, Acie (Someone who I once was madly in love with, dated for four years, and was engaged to, and is still one of my best friends) fell off a two story building, landing on his head. He was care flighted to the Ft. Worth Hospital and was declared to be in critical condition. I got a call from his mother that morning at eight a.m. (two hours after the paramedics had found him) crying and asking me to please give her a ride to the hospital. The doctors were afraid that he wouldn't even make it through to see them one last time. A part of me died with those words. He and I may not be together anymore but he's still a big part of my world and I still love him with all my heart.
I asked my boss to let me go and he agreed. I don't think I've ever driven as fast as I drove that day. I had to make it. So I arrived at his mother's house to find her a mess (which is to be expected). We got the information we needed and we drove to the hospital. This is the moment I should probably point out that it took me thirty minutes to get to downtown Dallas even when I got lost. Once again, the fastest I have driven. When we got there she dashed inside while I parked the car and caught up with them. I wasn't expecting to be able to see him. He was in critical condition and I am not really family. At least not on paper.
I found out that the main impact had been to his face. He had broken several bones there and his brain was bleeding. They weren't sure if he was going to be ok, but the following twenty-four hours were going to determine everything. If there's a person that can make it through something like that it would be Acie. I got to see him and it killed me to see the person I thought to be so indestructible in a hospital bed with blood everywhere. It just wasn't right. I blamed myself for not taking better care of him, for not being there when I could have stopped something like that. I even blamed myself for walking away from our relationship for if he were still with me he would have never gotten hurt. It ate at me but I couldn't do anything but comfort his mother and hide my own feelings behind an optimistic facade.
He was later transferred to his own ICU room and it was there where he regained consciousness. The moment he found out I was there, that I was worrying about him he demanded they send me home. He didn't want me there and I didn't belong there, or so he said (Acie now doesn't remember saying this at all). I would have fought that decision since he didn't have to know that I was in the waiting room but his mom wouldn't have it. I was sent home. The moment I walked out I broke down and it was a good thing Stuart had decided to meet me at the hospital because he was the only thing that kept me up. I wasn't myself, I couldn't stop shaking, I wouldn't allow myself to cry and sometimes I would get lost in my own head so that Stuart had to try and find me just so I would come to. I obviously didn't drive home.
The following days followed in a blur, with me constantly texting and calling his family for any news and insisting that I could go down and stay there with them. I didn't have to see him if he didn't want to see me. I just wanted to be close. I always got the same answers and was told to not go. The answers were flecked with small progress. I was told he could remember his name, his birthday, he could keep track of days. In short, his mind hadn't been damaged. It was less than a week before they allowed him to go home and we were all amazed. Thankfully at that point, he was trying to contact me and asking for me which made my guilt ease. I saw him the next day.
It was ridiculous how much I had needed to see him, to hold his hand, to hear him talk. He wasn't healthy but he was definitely on his way. I couldn't stay long as visits can be quite taxing so I went home with my heart much lighter. He was doing well, he was getting better, and he is. I've been talking to him on the phone and I'm supposed to see him before he goes back home (he lives in Oklahoma now). He's leaving this Monday and that means that he's getting much better. It makes me happy.
Maybe before he leaves I'll give him the notebook of letters I wrote for him throughout the experience or I may just keep writing and not give it to him until the notebook is full. He's doing better though and therefore I'm better. It's good.
For those of you who don't know, Acie (Someone who I once was madly in love with, dated for four years, and was engaged to, and is still one of my best friends) fell off a two story building, landing on his head. He was care flighted to the Ft. Worth Hospital and was declared to be in critical condition. I got a call from his mother that morning at eight a.m. (two hours after the paramedics had found him) crying and asking me to please give her a ride to the hospital. The doctors were afraid that he wouldn't even make it through to see them one last time. A part of me died with those words. He and I may not be together anymore but he's still a big part of my world and I still love him with all my heart.
I asked my boss to let me go and he agreed. I don't think I've ever driven as fast as I drove that day. I had to make it. So I arrived at his mother's house to find her a mess (which is to be expected). We got the information we needed and we drove to the hospital. This is the moment I should probably point out that it took me thirty minutes to get to downtown Dallas even when I got lost. Once again, the fastest I have driven. When we got there she dashed inside while I parked the car and caught up with them. I wasn't expecting to be able to see him. He was in critical condition and I am not really family. At least not on paper.
I found out that the main impact had been to his face. He had broken several bones there and his brain was bleeding. They weren't sure if he was going to be ok, but the following twenty-four hours were going to determine everything. If there's a person that can make it through something like that it would be Acie. I got to see him and it killed me to see the person I thought to be so indestructible in a hospital bed with blood everywhere. It just wasn't right. I blamed myself for not taking better care of him, for not being there when I could have stopped something like that. I even blamed myself for walking away from our relationship for if he were still with me he would have never gotten hurt. It ate at me but I couldn't do anything but comfort his mother and hide my own feelings behind an optimistic facade.
He was later transferred to his own ICU room and it was there where he regained consciousness. The moment he found out I was there, that I was worrying about him he demanded they send me home. He didn't want me there and I didn't belong there, or so he said (Acie now doesn't remember saying this at all). I would have fought that decision since he didn't have to know that I was in the waiting room but his mom wouldn't have it. I was sent home. The moment I walked out I broke down and it was a good thing Stuart had decided to meet me at the hospital because he was the only thing that kept me up. I wasn't myself, I couldn't stop shaking, I wouldn't allow myself to cry and sometimes I would get lost in my own head so that Stuart had to try and find me just so I would come to. I obviously didn't drive home.
The following days followed in a blur, with me constantly texting and calling his family for any news and insisting that I could go down and stay there with them. I didn't have to see him if he didn't want to see me. I just wanted to be close. I always got the same answers and was told to not go. The answers were flecked with small progress. I was told he could remember his name, his birthday, he could keep track of days. In short, his mind hadn't been damaged. It was less than a week before they allowed him to go home and we were all amazed. Thankfully at that point, he was trying to contact me and asking for me which made my guilt ease. I saw him the next day.
It was ridiculous how much I had needed to see him, to hold his hand, to hear him talk. He wasn't healthy but he was definitely on his way. I couldn't stay long as visits can be quite taxing so I went home with my heart much lighter. He was doing well, he was getting better, and he is. I've been talking to him on the phone and I'm supposed to see him before he goes back home (he lives in Oklahoma now). He's leaving this Monday and that means that he's getting much better. It makes me happy.
Maybe before he leaves I'll give him the notebook of letters I wrote for him throughout the experience or I may just keep writing and not give it to him until the notebook is full. He's doing better though and therefore I'm better. It's good.