Sunday, May 12, 2013
Mothers, Marathons and Miracles
Then the first explosion hit.
Michael, a personal trainer, was temporarily blinded, suffered hearing damage and many shrapnel wounds. Nicole, a physical therapist, suffered severe shrapnel wounds, both legs had compound fractures and one Achilles tendon was severed. Her hair was blown off the back of her head. Erika, a pre-school teacher, lost all her hair and part of her leg. The bones in her other leg were splintered, sticking out from the skin, and her remaining ankle shattered. Her personal identification and cell phone were lost in the bombing. Erika was taken to a hospital as a Jane Doe. Nicole and Michael were transported to another hospital. In the ensuing pandemonium, Carole could not find Erika. Hours passed. She was calling every hospital, describing Erika as having long blonde hair, ignorant of the fact her daughter no longer had hair.
Michael's vision returned. Some of his hearing has also, but not all. He was released from the hospital forty-eight hours later and moved into Nicole's hospital room to help care for her. She's had five surgeries and was moved from the hospital to a rehabilitation facility yesterday. The family is elated with her progress. Erika hopes to be released from the hospital in June and will require a long time in rehabilitation. She's had nine surgeries. She talks to her students now via Skype and enjoys all their handmade get-well cards.
Mother-to-mother, my heart has long gone out to Carole and all the "what-if's" she's dealt with. Many days her daughters were operated on at the same time in two different hospitals across the city. Driving on unfamiliar highways from one to the other only added to her physical and emotional exhaustion. Yet Mothers do "whatever" for their children. We push ourselves to help and show love. Carole's sisters flew to Boston to help lessen her burden.
Everyone in the family appreciates the miracle of life. The miracles of healing and love. The miracle of prayers and the strenth of emotional support.