Helen Gregory
Dr. M. Paproth
Composition I ENG1001 VC-M
19 July 2008
On December 5, 2000, I received a call that would change my life forever. From a hospital in Sturgis, South Dakota, a nurse called to tell me that an Alfred Gregory was in their Emergency Room and they had found my business card in his wallet. “Is this his wife?” I confirmed it was. “There has been an accident and your husband has been hurt. Can you come right away?” Mystified, I wondered why he had not called from his cell phone. He always called if there was an emergency. Was he incapable of calling? How badly injured was he? My heart raced as I hung up the phone. I was in Fargo, North Dakota and it would be at least a six-hour drive. Leaving immediately, I reached the hospital by morning. I followed the nurse into his room and his appearance shocked me. His head, bandaged and swollen, his face bruised, the man laying there did not look like my husband. The doctor came in to explain. My husband had a concussion, a cracked rib, and three broken vertebrae. He recalled something black hitting the windshield, sliding on the ice prior to hitting the ditch, and that his Ford Explorer had started to roll over. Thrown free of his vehicle, the next recollection he had was of lying on the cold pavement in the middle of Interstate 80. Would he be able to walk? They had no prognosis for now. The hospital released him to my care. I was finally able to take my husband home with me to Tennessee.
My husband called February 27, 2003, to wish me a happy birthday and tell me the exciting news. Given a position with Cadillac with a guarantee of $5000.00 per month plus bonuses, he felt the time was right for me to come to Tennessee. He had been living in our home there for the past three years, recovering from his injuries. Before his accident, he was a Professional Photographer. After his accident, the doctors said he would never lift a camera again (they carried six hundred pounds of pressure behind the...