As I sit here, looking down on the small figure covered with tubes in
the hospital bed, I get the most amazing sense of déjà vu.
The figure, I guess I must explain, is the most beloved female in my life. My daughter, Audrey Justina. The reason it's déjà vu is because the same scene was played out some ten years ago, when she was four years old.
It was 1992 that the story really begins. The Joe team had disbanded in 1991 and I decided to go back to medical school. I was on my way to class one morning, when I literally bumped into a small, beautiful, young woman. Her name was Tessa, but we called her Kit because she had hand raised a set of fox kits. Both of us apologized because neither one of us was watching where we were going.
I don't know why but I invited her out for coffee later that night, and we got to be friends. We started dating and a year later, I proposed to her. We got married and soon after, we discovered that she was pregnant with twins.
I was so happy, when a few months later, she gave birth to my son, Edwin Christopher Jr, and to my daughter, Audrey Justina.
That brings me to the next part of the story. A.J. and E.J. were normal kids, both of them bright and cute as a button. Both of them caught on very quickly. I was wrapped around their chubby little fingers from the start.
It was in 1997 that the accident happened. Both of the twins had been sick, and we had taken them to the pediatrician's office. We were on our way back to the house when we were hit head on by a drunk driver. Kit was killed instantly, and E.J.'s car seat failed. He was thrown forward and out of the car. He was dead before he hit the ground.
A.J. and I had survived, but not without injuries. After we both got out of the hospital, we both learned to cope. I'm still not sure how to tell her the truth of what happened all those years ago. It wasn't her fault, but it still brings back memories that I would prefer to forget right now.
As I look at A.J., I think about what happened to put her in a hospital bed with life-threatening injuries again. She and a few friends that I knew well were riding with her friend Shelly's mom. They had just left softball practice and were on their way to get something to eat when they were hit by a drunk driver.
The other driver wasn't hurt very badly, just a couple of broken ribs and a broken nose. The only visible injury that A.J. had was a cut on the right side of her face. Her back was broken and it is possible that she might never walk again. Three of the other girls in the minivan were killed on impact, as was Shelly's mom. The other two are still in ICU. I pray every night for them all to heal.
As I sit here in the waiting room and write this, I keep an eye out for the doctor. I want the latest news about my little girl. My father just walked in, and he's just as upset as I am. He asks me about how much I know of what happened, and I tell him. The only thing that I don't tell him is that the drunk driver is just a few rooms away down the hall from A.J.
I hear a noise, and I look up. The doctor is signaling me for some reason. I stick my head into A.J.'s room- Yes! She's awake! Thank God, she's awake! I walk up to the bed and take her hand, small, fragile, and pale in mine. She squeezes it lightly; smiling slightly, fear in her eyes.
I want to bend over and remind her that I'm not mad at her, that it wasn't her fault. Things happen.
She drifts off again as the doctor adds a painkiller to one of the IV lines running into her thin arm.
I know what it is she's afraid of. She's afraid that if she is stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, that I won't want her or love her anymore. A father's love is forever. I love her for her and not for any other reason. There won't be anything that happens that can tear me away from her.
I'll be there for every bit of therapy that she will have, and for every little triumph and every little disappointment that there will be.
I sit here and watch my daughter sleeping in this hospital bed and I want to stay here at her side until she is released. But there is another side of me, one that wants to walk down the hall to the room where the drunk driver that did this to her is kept; a part of me that wants to hurt him like he has hurt me.
I hold myself back because if I were to do anything, Audrey would take it badly, and right now we're at the wait and see stage with her.
This is the reason why I am so hard on the soldiers that come in the infirmary because of injuring themselves while they were drunk. I know what it can do to a person.
The figure, I guess I must explain, is the most beloved female in my life. My daughter, Audrey Justina. The reason it's déjà vu is because the same scene was played out some ten years ago, when she was four years old.
It was 1992 that the story really begins. The Joe team had disbanded in 1991 and I decided to go back to medical school. I was on my way to class one morning, when I literally bumped into a small, beautiful, young woman. Her name was Tessa, but we called her Kit because she had hand raised a set of fox kits. Both of us apologized because neither one of us was watching where we were going.
I don't know why but I invited her out for coffee later that night, and we got to be friends. We started dating and a year later, I proposed to her. We got married and soon after, we discovered that she was pregnant with twins.
I was so happy, when a few months later, she gave birth to my son, Edwin Christopher Jr, and to my daughter, Audrey Justina.
That brings me to the next part of the story. A.J. and E.J. were normal kids, both of them bright and cute as a button. Both of them caught on very quickly. I was wrapped around their chubby little fingers from the start.
It was in 1997 that the accident happened. Both of the twins had been sick, and we had taken them to the pediatrician's office. We were on our way back to the house when we were hit head on by a drunk driver. Kit was killed instantly, and E.J.'s car seat failed. He was thrown forward and out of the car. He was dead before he hit the ground.
A.J. and I had survived, but not without injuries. After we both got out of the hospital, we both learned to cope. I'm still not sure how to tell her the truth of what happened all those years ago. It wasn't her fault, but it still brings back memories that I would prefer to forget right now.
As I look at A.J., I think about what happened to put her in a hospital bed with life-threatening injuries again. She and a few friends that I knew well were riding with her friend Shelly's mom. They had just left softball practice and were on their way to get something to eat when they were hit by a drunk driver.
The other driver wasn't hurt very badly, just a couple of broken ribs and a broken nose. The only visible injury that A.J. had was a cut on the right side of her face. Her back was broken and it is possible that she might never walk again. Three of the other girls in the minivan were killed on impact, as was Shelly's mom. The other two are still in ICU. I pray every night for them all to heal.
As I sit here in the waiting room and write this, I keep an eye out for the doctor. I want the latest news about my little girl. My father just walked in, and he's just as upset as I am. He asks me about how much I know of what happened, and I tell him. The only thing that I don't tell him is that the drunk driver is just a few rooms away down the hall from A.J.
I hear a noise, and I look up. The doctor is signaling me for some reason. I stick my head into A.J.'s room- Yes! She's awake! Thank God, she's awake! I walk up to the bed and take her hand, small, fragile, and pale in mine. She squeezes it lightly; smiling slightly, fear in her eyes.
I want to bend over and remind her that I'm not mad at her, that it wasn't her fault. Things happen.
She drifts off again as the doctor adds a painkiller to one of the IV lines running into her thin arm.
I know what it is she's afraid of. She's afraid that if she is stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, that I won't want her or love her anymore. A father's love is forever. I love her for her and not for any other reason. There won't be anything that happens that can tear me away from her.
I'll be there for every bit of therapy that she will have, and for every little triumph and every little disappointment that there will be.
I sit here and watch my daughter sleeping in this hospital bed and I want to stay here at her side until she is released. But there is another side of me, one that wants to walk down the hall to the room where the drunk driver that did this to her is kept; a part of me that wants to hurt him like he has hurt me.
I hold myself back because if I were to do anything, Audrey would take it badly, and right now we're at the wait and see stage with her.
This is the reason why I am so hard on the soldiers that come in the infirmary because of injuring themselves while they were drunk. I know what it can do to a person.