As we drove quickly on the wet streets of Lake Charles, Louisiana, wet from a light but steady drizzle, breaking all speed limits in an effort to get to the hospital to treat the wound on my ankle currently gushing with blood, I thought back on the events that led to the accident. We were replacing the old air conditioner unit on the outside of the church office complex with a new and more efficient unit. Due to its substantial weight, several of us were involved in the project. The rain and muddy conditions required the use of boots and gloves, of which I only had boots, having forgotten my gloves. Sloshing into the mud, I chose to lift the side of the unit closest to the building, with the other three men at each corner.
The goal was to lift the unit move it a few feet closer to the building and install it on the platform built to accommodate it. Once it was in place, we would complete the installation (without the electrical component) and go get a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, perhaps because of the mud or maybe the wet hands or a combination of both, it slipped on the count of three and landed solidly on my ankle, stripping the flesh to the bone, resulting in a hurried trip to the hospital. Since the pain was somewhat delayed, for whatever strange reason, it was with a kind of disconnected curiosity that I tried in vain to control the bleeding all the way to the hospital.
The wait for the physician was short and I was wheeled into a room to think about the dreaded numbing shot, irrigation of the mud, and the inevitable stitches. A flushing out of the wound, however, revealed a very deep gash with possible dirt still entrenched within the tissues. The decision was to clean it out a couple of times, then pull the wound together without stitches and send me on my way. So I lay stretched out in the room waiting for the next "cleaning" and wondered why hospitals were so cold, and why things like this tended to happen to me, and began to wallow in self-pity. Something I was pretty adept at doing.
A few minutes later, at approximately 10:00 in the morning, I heard a dramatic noise that seem to be a dissonant blend of moaning, banging, and yelling from several sources. Confused, I tried to look, but the curtain prevented any kind of observation, yet I knew things were grim and the nurses and doctors were working quickly on whoever was near me. I overheard things like "spinal injury" and "accident" and "over the limit" and "must control the bleeding" and finally "looks like he'll make it." I was frightened for the person and felt somewhat embarrassed about my little situation which turned out to be as minor as a gnat buzzing around a cow, particular compared to the obvious emergency next door.
In short order, I heard a commanding and resonating voice saying, "Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, please blink if you can hear what I am saying to you." The man must have blinked for the officer of the law continued by reading his rights to him and asking if he understood. The subsequent charges were criminal neglect, driving under the influence, and several other charges I did not completely understand. The officer then proceeded to tell the man that he was partially paralyzed, intoxicated, had destroyed his own truck, hit another vehicle and caused severe injury to two other people. The officer then informed the man that he had no medical or auto insurance and asked the man to blink if he had any family that could be contacted. The man must have chosen not to blink for the officer then proceeded to tell the man he was in a serious situation, legally and medically. I could also hear the disdain in the officer's voice. I thought heard a nurse say the word "hopeless" in a menacing undertone.
Thinking about the man next door who could not move and had created a terrible tragedy of his own making, a tragedy that affected many people, a tragedy that would never go away, I looked at my ankle and felt the tears of sorrow for the man and the lives affected by his poor decisions. As the tears flowed, they soon gave way to a different emotion, one of gratitude and perspective, and I realized with grave humility that my problems were small, and I should focus on how to help others from causing their own trials. Self-pity was replaced with resolution. This singular event led me as much as anything to become a public school teacher. While I have no knowledge of the man, or what happened to him, I do have the scar on my ankle to remind me of that event, a scar that says to thank the Lord for the blessings and keep everything in perspective.
