The End of the 'Vette

Charlie wrecked the corvette last Sunday night and pretty much wrecked himself in the process. He was in an induced coma from Sunday to Wednesday evening to support his lungs. The kidneys were damaged, but have recovered nicely and he is breathing and coughing on his own.

Now that the organ systems are working satisfactorily, they are starting on the bones. He has a fractured pelvis, fractured ribs, and a C-2 cervical fracture. He is going to get a halo brace on Monday so that should be fun.

He is a fairly good patient, but I had to run some interference this afternoon when the nurse insisted that he HAD to lay on his right side for 2 hours. That is the side with the most pelvic damage and he does not tolerate that position at all. He told me she was a bitch and didn't know how to do her job. I thought she was a little over zealous and could have compromised, but she wouldn't. But I supported her and calmed him down. Then she gave him extra medicine and he was totally snowed until around 7 this evening. After insisting about the 2 hours on the right side, she left him on his back for over three hours and I had to go ask her about turning him. The night nurse is much more reasonable and Charlie is awake has been able to chat. Even called Chuck to ask about the house and farm.

I want to be able to remember the funny things he has said, so I guess this is a good place to record them. When he was first off the vent and beginning to wake up I spent the whole night, Wednesday, telling him what happened. He would ask, "What happened?" Answer: "You were in a wreck""Where was I?" Answer: "You had taken David home and were coming across 291 to go home." "What was I in?" Answer: "The "Vette." He would digest this, then doze off. In 10 to 15 minutes we would start over. Sometimes the questions varied. "How bad was the car damaged?" Answer: "Worse than you were." Chuck had a better answer: "We'll probably need to get a new one."

Thursday I went home when Chuck arrived at the hospital so I could get some sleep. I slept until 4 PM, then went back to the hospital. He had digested the information somewhat, but still needed reminders about where he was and what had happened. He asked me during the night Thursday night, 'What happened?" I asked him, "What do you think happened?" His answer: "I acted like a fool." (Pretty good answer).

Today he is coming to terms with how badly he is injured. At one point he looked at me and said, "I'm pretty fucked up, aren't I?" I replied, "You sure are, but the good news is there is nothing that can't heal." When I asked him if he was scared he said, "I wasn't, but I am starting to be now that I know how much damage I did."

During the night last night he said, "I think God is testing me." I told him, "No, God isn't testing you. God wrapped his arms tightly around you to protect you, or you wouldn't be here right now.