Over 20 years ago, my dad bought me my first car. I've honestly forgotten the model of the car other than it was an Oldsmobile. We called it the Brown Bomber. It was bigger than a Sherman tank and had once been a diesel but my dad thought it was best to convert it to a rolling bomb shelter that sucked gas. (On a very inappropriate note, we also called it the Rolling Terd due to the very unique brown color that the car was painted). All of the guys thought the car was awesome due to it's power and speed. All of the girls just saw it as a mode of transportation that wasn't a school bus and allowed us some extra freedom.I drove the Brown Bomber for several years. It saw me through high school and my first few years of college. At one point, though, I put the Bomber's strength to the test. On my way to work one morning, I hit a patch of ice on a side road and did several 360s before hitting a telephone pole and winding up in a ditch. I wasn't hurt at all and the only scratch the Bomber sustained was the rear bumper. I'll never forget flagging down a Georgia Power truck traveling down that road to ask for help. They had a wench on the front of their truck and were able to pull me out and I was able to drive back home. When dad finally got home to see the damage I'd done to his beautiful car, he was amazed that the car had sustained minimal injuries. However, after he examined the underneath side of the bumper, he was shocked. He explained that there are crumple zones under the bumper that are designed to take impact and collapse and spare the cabin of the vehicle from some of the force. He'd never seen anyone collapse all of the zones. Although the rest of the car (and even the bumper) looked fine, upon closer inspection, he knew that the rear bumper supports would have to be replaced in order to keep me safe in the event I tried to go ice skating in the Bomber again.
Throughout the process of getting the car fixed, I learned that all cars have several different crumple zones. Cars are designed to be crashed and keep the occupants safe. Crumple zones are like armies that stand ready to protect you from any intruder. However, there are spots in the car which don't have excessive crumple zones and I was told that if I ever got myself into a situation where I knew I was about to be hit by another car, I should try to position my car to receive the direct impact in a known crumple zone. (Yeah, this is kind of like your mom asking if you have on clean underwear just in case you get into an accident. I don't think my immediate response to a car traveling directly at me is going to be, "Hmmm... let me pull around to the left a little so this oncoming bullet car can strike me right on the front tire). Bottom line, cars are meant to take impacts and protect their occupants.
Over the last several years, I feel like I've developed my own personal crumple zones. I've learned to deal with the difficulties of raising a special needs child and instead of letting those difficulties take a direct hit on my heart, I make sure everything is directed at a crumple zone. When something goes wrong at work, I know to take the direct hit in a crumple zone and then move on. When dealing with being a single mom while Eric is in Texas, I've learned to let the frustrations and hurts hit the crumple zones so I can take the least amount of impact possible. I've really gotten very good at making sure to take the majority of the blows in life in a crumple zone. This way, my heart is protected and my "normal" life can continue.
However, there are some accidents that you don't see coming and you just can't reposition yourself quick enough to let your crumple zone take the impact. September 22 was one of those days. It was the day before my birthday. My parents had given me a gift certificate to a jewelry store that carries my favorite line of pendants (old fashioned keys). Although Eric was home, he was trying desperately to get some work done so I'd taken the kids to mom and dad's house to stay for a few minutes so I could go pick up my new pendant from the jewelry store. When I left, dad was in the backyard swinging Annie. Grant was with them. Mom and Dasha were in the house. I ran across the street to the jewelry store and picked up my pendant. The job went so quickly that I decided to walk into the Bath and Body Work store next door and look around. My phone rang about the time I started looking at the new fall soaps. Grant was on the other end and simply asked where I was and said that Papa wasn't feeling too good and that I didn't need to stay gone too long. I hung the phone up and started to wrap up my outing when my phone rang again. This time, Grant sounded panicked and asked me to come back immediately. Grant never panics. (This is the same child that turned off Ansley's alarms when she passed away as if there wasn't anything wrong and then proceeded to go about his normal business). Needless to say, I ran out of the store and forced the poor van to go much faster than it's used to. I was back to the house within 3 or 4 minutes. When I walked into the door, I'd already prepared myself for what I'd see based on Grant's description. He had told me that dad couldn't move his left arm or hand and his face was droopy and he couldn't talk good. Grant had been with dad when dad suddenly realized something was wrong and tried to get Annie out of the swing but couldn't use his left hand and then couldn't speak clearly to tell Grant what he needed. Grant went on to tell me that he remembered reading about symptoms like that in his Boy Scout manual and he thought he needed to dial 911. Drama and details aside, when I reached the living room, dad was sitting in his recliner crying (I've never see him really cry before) and mom was sitting at his feet asking if he wanted her to call 911. At this point, I really don't remember too much other than calling 911 and Grant taking both girls upstairs and sequestering them until the paramedics left. (He'd also called my sister in Tampa and when he couldn't reach her, he called her husband and told him to let her know that she needed to come home).
These are the kind of days that crumple zones don't protect you from. I still can't spend too much energy thinking about the next hours and days that followed. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can protect you from watching someone who you've always seen as invincible become helpless. Images from those first few hours will forever be burned into my memory.
Dad was in the emergency room within 45 minutes of the first symptoms of his stroke. The trauma staff administered a clot busting drug called TPA that can only be given to victims within a very small window of time after the onset of a stroke. Then, Dad was admitted to the Neuro ICU area. After spending two days in the unit, they moved him to the rehabilitation area. He spent less than 24 hours there. The nurses realized quickly that their best bet was to let him go home before he started enlisting the other patients for an uprising. (He'd told the ICU nurses on Thursday afternoon that he WOULD be home for the Florida football game on Saturday). And, sure enough, they dismissed him around lunch time on Saturday so he could get home to his own recliner and big screen TV to watch the game.
Although Dad is still weak, his speak is understandable and his left arm and hand are quickly gaining strength. He is on the path to a full recovery. He's doing some occupational therapy to help him with his hand strength and he's doing some speech therapy to help strengthen the muscles around his mouth that now are a bit droopy and cause his speech to slightly slur.
The impact that Dad's stroke had on me completely missed every crumple zone I've developed and really shook me to my core. While I think many girls see their dads as invincible super heroes, I've learned to slow down and be thankful that my Dad is still here to tell Grant inappropriate jokes and be part of his Scout activities. He can still swing Annie and eat all of the pretend weird creations she cooks for him. And, he can still be the voice of reason for Dasha. There are some moments when Dad is the only person who can get past her crumple zones and go in for a direct hit!
Some days, I feel a bit guilty being able to remove myself emotionally from many situations which would send others into turmoil. In fact, this drives my husband nuts! Routinely, he tells me that I don't excited over things! I just make sure all of the arrows that life throws at me are direct hits in my crumple zones. Other times, I see my ability to remove myself as quite a gift. While others are getting their panties into knots over silly things, I can keep myself focused and continue on with my duties. (OK - if I'm wearing the old Hanes Her Way stuff, yeah, they do get into knots sometimes).
Bottom line, I've learned several things over the last couple of weeks. First, Grant is an amazing child. While having the innocence of a 10 year old, he can bear the burdens that many adults can't handle. Many times, I worry that he has too much responsibility with Dasha and Annie in the house. However, after watching him handle the situation with Dad, I know that the Path that has been set aside for Grant is filled with wonderful things that we are lucky enough to help prepare him for. Second, although I know Dad technically isn't a Super Hero, I will address him as such from now on so that he knows how much he's loved. Finally, I've seen several posters that tout, "Everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten." I think I'm going to print my own poster of the Brown Bomber and then find an engineer from Oldsmobile to highlight the crumple zones. I'll title the poster, "Aim for the crumple zones!" (As a side note, Eric's dad drove the Brown Bomber until just a few years ago when he had to stop driving. If he was still on the road, I'd be willing to bet that he'd be piloting the Rolling Terd)!
