Friday, April 20, 2012

One of those calls.

Salt Lake City

A routine afternoon at my office, interrupted by one of those calls. “Jim, Cari’s been in an accident . . . .”

Cari’s my sister. The call came from a friend who was with her at the local hospital near her home and horse farm in New York. She’d been crushed by a horse—a full body slam with a 1,500-pound mare landing on her. She was about to be taken by helicopter to the nearest trauma 1 hospital sixty miles away.

It was about 3:50 PM Mountain Time. It wouldn’t be until nearly 9 PM Mountain until I got more information. Nobody could travel with Cari on the helicopter her friends had to drive. Even after they arrived at the hospital there was no word on her condition.

I couldn’t help but think the worst as I sat on my back patio with my dog Jake and alternating beers and cokes, idly playing with my iPhone, texting friends in New York, and having brief phone conversations with family and friends.

The general theme: “We still don’t know anything.”

Finally, word came back to Utah—she’s breathing and in the ICU. A sigh of relief. Her condition was still mostly unknown, but she was alive.

Our family has been through this a few times with other traumatic riding accidents. It was clear that this was one of the more dire incidents, but we still awaited word on her actual condition.

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