LETTERS FROM HOME: TAKING STOCK WHEN YOU HIT A BUMP IN THE ROAD

Dec. 12, 1996

Dear Patty,

When the phone rang just before 8 Sunday morning, DC's side of the bed was empty. Nothing unusual about that. She often rises with the sun, heads down to her office to do paperwork or goes walking with the dogs while I remain on the dark side of the moon. If typical, this would be an early morning phone call from a patient with an ache.

The caller said my wife had been in an accident. My first reaction was disbelief. My wife doesn't get in accidents early on Sunday morning. She does paperwork, walks the dogs. What's the name of the person who was in the accident? I asked. She didn't know. Finally I woke up enough to realize that this was a real thing.

Is she injured? I asked. "No, I don't think so," the woman said. Big "Whew" on my part. "But she's pretty shaken up."

The site was only about five minutes from our house on a road I frequently drive to the golf course. The momentary relief of minutes before disappeared when I saw the police cars, a fire truck, ambulance and scarred remains of two cars that had collided head-on at about 45 mph. DC was standing by our car, shell shock on her face. The other driver was being loaded into the ambulance.

DC's ribs, head, teeth, ankles and legs hurt, but she was more worried about Hank and Lucy.

Lucy was in the front seat at impact and had lost control of her bowels. She was whimpering. Hank was in the back seat and didn't appear to be hurt. But he was so upset that he fought against being lifted from the car.

DC's father took the dogs to the veterinarian, I took DC to a hospital. Each bump in the road hurt her. "I'm not having any fun," she said. DC is never joking when she says that.

She refused to go in an ambulance. "I figure if I can walk, I'm going to make it all right," she said.

DC is all right, if walking and sitting down gingerly and tiring easily. She has a mostly two-tone body -- black and blue. The doctor says the bruises eventually will turn yellow and even green!

Lucy's OK, too, and Hank's no weirder than usual.

The other driver had a laceration and was admitted to the hospital.

DC was just taking the dogs to Trail of Tears State Park. The other car came over the center line. The driver told the police he was having trouble with his steering.

DC can't remember what happened. One second you're taking the dogs on a happy outing, the next you're staring into another driver's startled eyes.

It could happen to any of us. And the consequences could be much worse. "You were lucky," I keep saying.

DC's "Uh huh" says she doesn't really think so. Every time she talks about the crash, to friends, to insurance agents, to me, she cries. She doesn't like the fact that life can be so dangerous.

She says tears are falling because she didn't have a chance to feel scared during the collision and the hubbub afterward.

She has heard a lot of accident stories since Sunday, many with unhappier endings. By comparison, she insists, what happened to her was no big deal.

There's more to it, I think. In the brisk air and Sunday morning sunshine, both of us in different ways were given an insight into how it would feel to lose something precious. A dog, a wife, your life.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.