Health is Wealth
by Kaleb Casner
As I fell into a deep sleep the world around me began to disappear, and I entered my mind’s subconscious. Suddenly, I was awoken by the piercing sound of the phone. I reluctantly opened my eyes, not wanting to get up after a long day at work; however, I had a strange gut feeling that this phone call was important. I finally managed to bring my legs to the edge of the bed, and I put on my slippers, which had been patiently waiting there since I went to sleep. Having been exhausted I dragged myself to the phone, looking like a hunchbacked, lifeless zombie. When I got to the kitchen I flicked on one of the lights and was blinded, like the vision you get while walking out of the movie theater and see the sun for the first time in hours. As my sight started to clear up, and there was only a few dots left in my vision, I grabbed the phone and groggily said, “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Patricia Woodward?”asked the person on the other side of the phone.
“Yes, and who is this?” I responded.
“This is Sandra Robinson from Androscoggin Valley Hospital. I’m calling to inform you that your daughter was recently admitted to our hospital,” she said in an monotone voice.
“What! What happened to her?” I exclaimed.
“From what we have gathered so far your daughter was involved in a car accident and sustained serious injuries,” the woman said in a calm voice.
At that moment I could feel my heart pounding, feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest. Thoughts scrambled through my brain. How could this happen? Did I do something wrong? Things like this don’t happen in our community. My face started to turn red and I could feel the first tear forcing its way out, but before I fully broke down I quickly told the nurse on the phone, “Ok, thank you. I’ll be right there.”
I hung up the phone and pushed away the tears, knowing I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I scrambled to find my keys, and when I found them I rushed out the door at the speed of lightning. I quickly turned on the car and pushed as hard as I could on the gas. Even though the hospital was only a few miles away from my house, it felt like it took an eternity to finally get there.
When I arrived at the hospital I ran inside, fueled by adrenaline and a mother’s love.
“Where’s my daughter!” I shouted as soon as I entered the hospital.
“You must be Mrs. Woodward, please follow me,” said one of the doctors.
As we walked down the hallway we passed room after room, each filled with either a sick patient or a nurse cleaning up afterwards. The air was overthrown with the smell of sanitation products, with an underlying hint of throw up. When we made it to the room the doctor gestured his hand for me to enter first, but as I slowly crept inside, not wanting to see my daughter suffering or in pain, I was bewildered when I saw it was an empty conference room.
“Why are we here? Take me to my daughter!” I ordered.
The doctor hesitantly said, “I’m sorry, but…”
My brain instantly clicked all the pieces together and I was flustered with an avalanche of emotions. I fell to the floor, and once the first tear broke free, the rest flowed in an unbroken stream.
Even though my lips quivered in disbelief, I managed to ask one question, “How did this happen?”
How could my perfectly healthy daughter be gone? I thought. The doctor explained to me that my daughter had been hit by a drunken driver, and they tried everything to save her, but the damage was too extensive.
After a few weeks of sitting at home, succumbed to my own thoughts which periodically went over scenarios of what I could’ve done differently, I finally came to the realization that my daughter was never coming back. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself...something for my daughter. Before the accident I remembered reading an article in the newspaper about an anti-drunk driving campaign in southern New Hampshire.