A Curve in the Road(4)

I try not to think about the potential damage to my legs. It’s not easy to assume everything will be fine. I’m a surgeon. I know there are certain things that simply can’t be fixed.

Instead, I focus my thoughts on Alan and pray that he’s gotten the message by now, and I think of Zack at the rink. He has no idea that his mother is trapped in a car at the bottom of a ravine.

The spreader begins to slowly lift the dash, and I feel a weight come off my legs. Suddenly, my thighs ache with a bone-deep pain, but at least I can wiggle my toes. A good sign.

As soon as there’s an opportunity, I reach down to run my hands over my knees and calves. My jeans are ripped, and there are a few surface abrasions, but I’m able to unbend my legs at the knee joints.

Another good sign.

Troy removes the tarp, but I barely have time to look down and get a visual on my legs before a brace is fastened around my neck and I’m being lifted out of the vehicle and onto a backboard laid on a gurney. All of this is carried out by two paramedics, one male and one female, who must have scrambled down the slope with their equipment while the firefighters were cutting my vehicle apart.

“I’m a doctor,” I tell them. “What are your names?”

“I’m Carrie, and this is Bubba.”

I can’t move my neck, but I can shift my gaze to Bubba, who looks like a bouncer with a brush cut. The name suits him.

Carrie, on the other hand, is a pretty, petite blonde who appears extremely focused and capable as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I give her a few seconds to read the dial and release the air in the cuff.

“What’s my BP?” I ask.

“It’s excellent. One twenty-six over eighty-five.”

“That’s a bit high for me, but given the situation, I’ll take it.”

Others gather around to transport me up the hill.

“How’s your pain?” she asks.

“Manageable. My legs are sore, and these abrasions on my face are stinging a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

I’m aware of Troy still at my side, helping the paramedics carry me up the steep slope, which is no easy task because the rocks and debris are unsteady.

As luck would have it, it begins to rain. Soon enough, I’m feeling ice pellets on my cheeks, and I’m forced to close my eyes.

A moment later, we are cresting the top of the embankment and are back up on the road. The gurney wheels touch down.

Again, I ask, “Has anyone reached my husband yet?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll check on that,” Carrie says.

“And has anyone seen my dog?”

Carrie is busy pushing my gurney toward the ambulance. She slips and slides on the ice. “You had a dog with you?”

“Yes.”

Troy helps me out. “He’s a golden retriever. His name is Winston.” Troy leans over me. “Don’t worry, Abbie. We’re looking for him. I promise we’ll find him.”

“I really need to know that he’s okay.”

Troy nods and leaves my side to see if there’s been an update.

I wish I could sit up and look around, but I’m strapped tightly to the gurney, and the neck brace is restricting. There’s even a strap across my forehead, and two red foam blocks press against my ears, so I can’t turn left or right. All I can see is the cloudy night sky over the paramedics’ heads and the glistening freezing rain coming down in curtains as Carrie and Bubba prepare to slide me into the back of the ambulance.

I hear a lot of commotion from the rescue vehicles on the road, and the cops are directing traffic.

I say to Carrie, “Was anyone else hurt? Please tell me no one was killed.”

“The other driver is on his way to the hospital right now,” she answers. “Still alive.”

“That’s good news, at least.”

Bubba grips the front leg-release levers, and they slide me in.

“But I don’t understand how this even happened,” I say. “He just crossed the center line for no reason. It wasn’t even raining then.”

“Yeah, well . . . ,” Bubba replies. “It may not have been raining at the time, but the other guy smells like he’s been swimming in a sea of booze all day.”

“What?” I feel an explosion of rage in my belly. The other driver was drinking? My hands clench into fists, but I don’t have time for anger, because they’re about to close the ambulance doors.

“Wait. Please . . . I don’t want to leave without my dog. Winston!” I shout, hoping he’ll hear me and come running.

My heart rate accelerates.

Carrie speaks reassuringly while she secures the gurney inside the vehicle. “Don’t worry, Abbie. Troy’s a dog lover. He’ll do everything he can to find Winston. But we really have to get you to the hospital.”

Bubba closes the ambulance doors, and I feel a lump form in my throat. I want to cry because I can’t bear for Winston to think for one second that I’ve abandoned him.

And what about Alan? Does he even know about my accident yet? I ask Carrie to try calling him again, but there’s still no answer. I ask her to call Zack, but he must be on the ice by now. He doesn’t answer either.

Please . . . I need my family.

At last, I ask Carrie to call my mother, and she gets through. She holds the phone to my ear so that I can speak to Mom and reassure her that I’m okay.