associated in random thought

the helmet of salvation

thursday evening, i lay on the couch, lazily, reading a book. helen was on her way home from work. she'd ridden her bike that day, and happily so. at 9:00, my phone rang. it was helen. she was probably wondering if i wanted anything from the store. i answered. the voice on the other line was male. it was a police officer. "your friend has had a bike accident. she'll need to go in the ambulance to the ER, and get stitched up. can you come pick up her bike?"

i bolted out the door. she was only around the corner and down the block. i arrived to find an ambulance and two police cars directing traffic through the busy intersection. and there was my helen, covered in blood and road rash, sitting on the sidewalk. she had a concussion, it was obvious. her memory lapsed every fifteen seconds. i kissed her forehead and told her every fifteen seconds that i was here. i wasn't going to leave her side. she was ok. she was ok.

the police officer handed me helen's helmet. it was cracked in the front. miraculously, he had seen the whole thing happen: helen was riding in the bike lane, rode through her green light at the intersection, and then hit an upturned manhole cover that somehow had been left in the bike lane. she flew over the handle bars, headfirst, landing in the street. the policeman pulled her to the sidewalk.

though she had a goose egg on her forehead, and the subsequent concussion, the helmet had protected her. probably saved her.

i followed behind the ambulance in my car, as they whisked her away to the hospital. the next several hours were full of xrays, ct scans, and stitches. helen had bitten through her lip and her chin had a gash almost to the bone. slowly, her memory returned, and the familiar helen surfaced. she joked with doctors, even suggesting that they let the intern do the suturing. (we've been watching grey's anatomy a lot. we now know how big a deal it is for an intern to do something important.)

at nearly 4 am, the doctors released helen into my care, and i took her home. everyone in the ER was amazed that helen suffered no broken bones, no broken teeth, no brain damage.

these past few days have been ones of constant wonder. we both stood, in our unique circumstances, on that precarious precipice of life and death and change, and stepped back unscathed. since then, the coffee has tasted so good. every kind gesture from the neighbors has been face to face contact with God: they've brought flowers and lasagna and martinis.

helen is sore, to be sure. road rash is nasty, i've discovered. but she's up and around and laughing and thankful. she's ok. she's ok.

the helmet of salvation will hang on the wall as an icon.

(please wear yours.)