Mike's Bike Wreck, day 1 (August 2014

6 am Sunday

 Hey everyone, I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to give detailed individual updates to all of you important people who deserve it most. I've tried to keep a good balance in keeping the praying friends, visiting friends, and family all in-the-loop. So, here's the whole story, for anyone who may have missed some and is interested. (Obviously, from my perspective) :)

 Thursday afternoon, Mike left work early to head up to Argo (North of B'ham) for a Tres Dias meeting. He had rushed off to work early in the morning, grabbing a Pop-Tart for a quick sugar/carb hit. He had skipped lunch to work through so he could leave around 3:00.

 Around 4:30, I was on my way to my cello lesson, and I called his cell to leave a message, knowing that he was on his bike, and couldn't take my call. The message I would leave was scripted in my head, "Hey babe, Let me know when you reach Argo so I won't worry. Let me know when you're leaving. I know you'll have a great time seeing those guys again and doing your thing. I love you." Instead of the familiar, "This is Mike. leave a message, *BEEP*" the phone rang 5 times and was answered by an unfamiliar voice.

 "Hello?"

 I was thrown off my groove. Did Mike forget his phone somewhere? He's always leaving it places.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting an answer..." was all I could manage. (Driving and talking... you know.)

 "This is Dr. ???? at Coosa Valley Medical."

 In my head, I thought, "Oh Crap! There's only one reason a doctor is answering Mike's cell phone."

 "Hold on a minute." I replied. I looked for a parking lot to turn into.

 "Hi," the doctor continued. "Your husband has been involved in a motorcycle accident."

 "Yes?" I mean, I knew it, and I was bracing myself for his next words, knowing that this next moment was HUGE. How bad??? I can see the empty lot of the unused former "Brunos's" store, the lone cop car taking refuge from the 97 degree heat in the shade of a bushy crepe myrtle, the bright blue sunny day. I took a deep breath.

"He's going to be o.k. ..."

I honestly don't remember the exact words that came after that. Lots of technical jargon that keeps ER doctors sounding professional and somewhat detached during a family's crisis. He probably listed off the known injuries, assured me of the many x-rays they were taking, the Cat scan, the lab work, and so on. 

Then, in the background, I heard Mike pipe up, "tell her I finally broke a bone."

I breathed again. Yep, that's him, He's fine. I smiled in relief. God's grace and mercy flowed over me. I had peace and calmness. Thoughts of "the next step" began forming in my mind. Somehow, Holy Spirit was counselling me on what I had to do next.

 Mike had been riding his bike through Sylacauga, on the way North to Argo. It's normally about a 2 and a half hour trip. He was on US Hwy 280 about mile marker 32, cruising in the fast lane at 65. The car in front of him wasn't going faster than the cars in the slow lane and he found himself having to slow down. There was a light sheen of wetness on the road from a drizzle. Suddenly, his bike was down. He doesn't remember what caused it, but the rear wheel went sideways, he laid the bike down, (which is a a biker euphemism for "fell over") tucked his boots to the ground and began sliding along the asphalt on the armored jacket shoulder and back. The last thing he remembers is the bouncing of the front wheels of a pick up truck (maybe, maybe it was a van) as it locked up its brakes to avoid running over him.

 When he came to, the EMTs were there, jacking up the truck, (panel truck? van? He's not a mechanic, he can't tell the type of vehicle it was from the undercarriage.) and sliding a backboard under him. He heard a voice saying, "you can cancel the helicopter." Before they put him in the ambulance, the medics pulled off both boots. When Mike yelled in agony, they realized he had a broken leg.

I began making plans and taking care of everything so I could go get him. I had to drive 30 minutes back to my house, pack clothes for Mike, myself, and grab some things for the kids. While on the road, I sent a message to Pastor Larry Biggers, a fellow Tres Dias brother and biker.

I said, "Mike is in an ER in Sylacauga after a bike wreck. I figured you'd know how to pray. He's mostly ok. Don't know about the BMW"

 "Thanks - will be praying" was his first reply. Followed by, "Keep me in touch - we have notified the biker community and many are praying."

 "Thank you. Once I find out how my man is, I might contact you about how to go about getting the BMW back to Auburn."

 Ten minutes later, "I am on my way to get the bike - let me know where I can find it?"

 "In Sylacauga???"

 He sent back, "Fine, will let the information unfold as you learn more - most of all is our concern for Mike." 

Then I drove 30 minutes back to Opelika. I was just in time to take a picture of Aiden after the belt ceremony at his Tae Kwon Do class. Yes, he passed and Mr. Pope tied on his yellow belt. I am so proud of him for following through and practicing and doing this!

Then, about an hour and a half later, I was on the road north. At 6:45 I got another text from Brother Larry. "A lady from CMA (Christian Motorcyclists Association) has prayed with Mike and given me an update - I an en route with a trailer, if I can pick up bike tonight!" He was literally on the way! I told him I had the title, and insurance, and etc. He said, "Keep me posted - I know Mike is headed to Birmingham."

 Again - I knew what that meant. The emergency room in Sylacauga had assessed his case and decided that something was bad enough to warrant a trip 45 minutes north to UAB for a specialist. But still, God's peace was on me, and I wasn't worried. I am reasonably familiar with UAB since my Mom's ordeals there. And Children's Hospital where Aiden spent a week or so two years ago, is in the same neighborhood. I pressed on to Sylacauga.

I was trying to consult my GPS on the phone while concerned family called and texted. I tried to track down the location of the Bike. First I called the Sylacauga police. They did not work the case, since 280 is a State hiway. They gave me the number for the Ala. State Troopers. To get to talk to a real person I had to press 1 - Emergencies. It felt odd, since the emergency was technically over... but I did. The dispatcher forwarded my call to a lady who could find the information on her computer. I could hear her clacking away, "oh yeah, we worked that wreck. Hmm, I'm not showing any record for towing." (Gulp! is the bike left on the side of the road? with his laptop?) Then in the background I could hear her asking someone in the room, "what happened to the bike on the MCC (motor cycle crash) from this afternoon?"

 "It's at Ogletree's, the wreck was just right there."

 She came back on the line with me, "Ma'am, the accident occurred at mile marker 32 on US hiway 280. Ogletree's garage is just right there, so they took it there." After a few minutes, I thanked her and hung up. 

The hospital was not hard to find. Its a very large building in a very small town. I walked into the ER, signed a few forms, then them buzzed me through to the triage room. The first thing I saw was Brother Larry's silver hair! He had beaten me there, and Columbus is another 40 minutes farther than Auburn.

 Mike was awake and talking. We shared what we knew about the accident, which was not much. While we were discussing how to get the bike back from the garage, I told both Mike and Larry that it was at Ogletree's garage, which was locked up for the night. I called, but there was no answer, no machine. I was momentarily at a loss. Hmmm.

 "Hold on," the lady in the next bed area said. A hand reached around, pulled back the curtain in the triage area separating the beds. A country looking woman with straight, blond hair, and signs of sun damaged skin, looked around at us, and asked, "You're talking about Ogletree's Garage? Chris and Skeeter here are best friends."

 o_O  O.K.

 She handed the flip phone to "Skeeter" on the bed (who had been barfing and yelling from kidney stones a little while earlier...) and "Skeeter" called Chris Ogletree. While I was talking to the ER staff about which section of the UAB Hospital to find Mike in, arrangements were made for the BMW to be transported.

I said good-bye to Mike who was rolled out to the waiting ambulance. Brother Larry and I walked out to the parking lot. I asked him, "Do you need the title, or anything to get the bike from the garage?"

 "Oh I'm sure it will be fine. Skeeter called Chris. Its all settled."

 Riiiight. Skeeter called Chris, and Larry will go from Columbus to Sylacauga to take the bike to Auburn. My head was spinning, so I let that thought process go.

 Next step - find UAB Hospital ER, parking, and etc.

 Petrina Maher

 "Delight yourself in the Lord!" ~Psalm 37:4