Going to jail just isn't enough ......

My daughters and I were driving back home from a family reunion Sunday afternoon. We were all tired and cranky after being on the road for over six hours. We decided to pull off the interstate and take the back roads home for the remaining hour or so. We were going to open the sun roof, turn on a CD and joyfully sing the remainder of the way home.

About 20 minutes into the drive down the curvy mountain road, the van up ahead of us start weaving over the center line. My eight year old had just commented "Hey! They can't do that! There's no more dotted lines here!" Moments later, as he turned into the next curve, with a loud crash, the van hit an oncoming little car, head on....both vehicles flying up into the air and then toppling down again, flipping in opposite directions.

Blood was puddling on the road between the two vehicles before I could even run up to the scene. I tossed my cellular at my oldest and told her to call 911. The sounds of a small child screaming could be heard coming from the remains of the little car, which no longer held any semblance of a vehicle. Her mother, trapped in the driver's seat with the windshield, dash and steering wheel crushed up against her chest and face, began to shake hysterically as she spit blood and gasped at interludes for breath. A couple travelling in the oncoming lane stopped to help pull the trapped woman's daughter from the car.

The passenger in the van was crushed and trapped beneath the toppled vehicle, still coherent, crying out for help. I couldn't get to her. And I couldn't find the driver.

I could hear my daughters behind me trying to talk to the woman in the van while I attempted to stabilize the head of the woman in the car. Looking back at the van, I could hear her sobs and gasps, but could only see a piece of her arm, lying in a pool of glass and blood, protruding from under the rolled vehicle. The girls kept talking to her, "Don't worry. It's going to be ok. My mommy's a nurse and she'll make it all better." I yelled back at the girls not to touch anything, just to keep talking to her, as my oldest ran up to the scene, tears streaming down her face, with my medical case from the trunk.

Looking at the van, there was no way of getting to any of its occupants. I felt sick. I'm a nurse, but where do I even start in a situation like this? There is no code cart or trauma team present. Even if I were a doctor, what could I do at the moment? We can't get anyone out of the vehicles. We're miles from any kind of "help." Four years of nursing school and several years of hospital and home nursing, and I can't find anything helpful to do! Hopelessness can't even describe the feelings rushing through me as I realized there's nothing I can do to "make things better." I caught myself wishing and praying that the girls were right, and somehow with some miracle from above I could do something to make things better. But nothing about this situation could be "fixed." And I felt totally useless. I just kept talking to the victims and held the young mother's head against the back of her seat. Two more men stopped to help.

One of them helped to pry open the back door of the car and then climbed in to hold the womans head up against the headrest for me until help could arrive. The other man on the scene was finally able to clear enough of the van debris away from the side of the other trapped woman to where I could at least see half of her face lying on the pavement underneath the van. Her head was wedged upside down; and she was choking and spitting. Her neck was cut open and pouring blood downward into her nose and mouth. I managed to slide several rolls of opened kerlix gauze under the area to catch the blood flowing down her face and neck into her nostrils and mouth. Her gagging and spitting eased up somewhat. But I still felt completely helpless and hopeless.

I could hear sirens in the distance and tried to convince her to "hang in there" and reassure her that help would be there soon. And I tried to convince myself that help would arrive momentarily. And I prayed and I prayed that these minutes of waiting for help which seemed like an eternity would soon be over. A woman walked up and led my youngest ones off to the side of the road. She leaned over and whispered to me that there was blood and gasoline both running across my feet and that the van had started smoking. I tried to keep the trapped victim talking, until I noticed the van starting to move. I looked up to see a man trying to climb out the top of the van.

Two men helped him out of the van and laid him down on the pavement next to the vehicle. They then asked me to move away from the van so they could "push this thing over" to get the woman out. After several seconds of "convincing" them this would possibly do more harm than good to the victim entangled underneath it, I returned to check the man on the ground. He was quiet and still, the smell of alcohol strong on his body; but he was breathing and had a pulse. He was alive, so I returned to the car to check on the young mother.

And then the man arose.

After yelling a few choice obscenities at the young mother still trapped in her car, he stumbled over to the van and began trying to push it back over. The two men on the ground got up and began yelling for help as they struggled with the disorderly and beligerent drunken victim. Four more good samaritans ran up to the scene offering to assist as the struggle continued. The first police officer arrived on the scene just moments later, and gained control of the drunken man, holding him on the ground until the next officer and the first two ambulances arrived.

I've never been so relieved to see a fire fighter in my life. The gasoline was starting to pool in the road from both vehicles. And the smoke was getting thicker, rising from the front underneath of the van. The by-standers on the scene were starting to panic and getting out of control.

As the emergency vehicles and rescue teams continued to arrive on the scene, I went over to sit at the side of the road with my children. We sat in tears of shock and disbelief as the helicopters arrived and the multitudes of fire rescue members blocked and cut the vehicles into multiple pieces until they could finally get the two ladies out of the metallic death grip of the vehicles. Their bodies held no resemblance to that of a human form as they were lifted from the metal. Both were still miraculously alive.....the young mother gasping for breath as they attached the oxygen tanks, her broken ribs protruding through her chest along with other multiple bones which had shattered and broken through her bloody skin, the other woman screaming and sobbing hysterically as they placed her on the cart, her body mangled and bloody.

After the women were in ambulances, one of the officers walked over to us and asked if I felt able walk over to the back of the ambulance so they could check me. I declined, stating I had been behind the accident, not in the accident. He looked down at my legs, looked back up at me and said "I know. But you really should get checked out." I looked down at my legs and saw blood running down them. Somehow in all the commotion, I must have cut my legs on glass and not realized it when I leaned across the car. As I sat on the back of of the rescue vehicle, an EMT cleaning through the cuts on my legs, I watched as the petrified little girl was wheeled in front of me and put into the ambulance. She looked so much like my eight year old, cold chills ran up my spine. She looked up at me, and the only thing I could do was smile and say "You're going to be ok, baby. They'll take good care of you." The paramedic stated he could smell gasoline on my legs, sprayed me down with some unknown solution and continued to clean and check my legs. The little girl looked up at me and asked "Will Mommy be ok too?" I couldn't stop my tears and couldn't think of any words at all to reply. I just sat there and cried.

I went back to my children while the rescuers continued to clear the debris. And I sat there on the ground crying, and held them, selfishly thankful it had not been us in that little car, thankful to be able to drive away after the emergency vehicles leave the scene, and thankful for how great my children are. As frightened as they were, with tears streaming down their faces, they never panicked. They were there trying to encourage and help in the only way they knew how. And I'm incredibly proud of each of them!

I was even thankful as I glanced over at my car. And I began to snicker. The girls stopped crying and looked at me bewildered and asked why I was laughing. All I could reply was, "just laughing at our car."

There sat our little car, still running in the hot 90 degree sun, air conditioner still on, and the doors still standing wide open. Steam and smoke were pouring up from under the hood. As the girls looked up, the car choked and then died. And there we sat, watching the smoke at the front of our overheated car that I had never turned off.

And we all chuckled. Normally car problems, when we're away from home, would have brought us all into tears. But somehow this time, car trouble seemed so insignificant....even to the kids. None of us could cry any longer. Not once did the kids ask how we were going to get home or what we were going to do. We all just sat there in silence, together, and watched it smoke. Life completely slowed down for all of us during the following minutes. It seemed we had nothing better to do or to worry about besides being together. The car was insignificant. Getting home was insignificant. Being broke down on the side of the road was nothing to even consider a small stressor in our life.

As the scene began to clear, one of the firemen stopped to ask if he could take us somewhere. I declined, telling him I thought we needed to just sit this one out for a while. He nodded as if in understanding and went on.

Other cars began moving and going around our car, which still sat in the middle of the road. Finally the smoke stopped and the 15 year old broke the silence by saying, "I guess we should go shut our car doors, huh?" Yep, I guess we should. And I guess we should push it out of the road too. I sat down in the seat, turned the key in order to unlock the steering wheel, and the car started right up. No problem. The temp gauge even read normal. The fluid level remained "full." The car showed no signs of ever having any problem.

The car had finally cooled off. Everyone had calmed down; and we started back home. My youngest asked, "Mommy, you're not going to drive across their blood are you?" We decided to turn around and go back the way we came, rather than an attempt to drive past the scene we had just witnessed.

After several miles of silence, one of the girls asked why things like this happen. I had no answer for her except "I'm not sure." Then the question came, "What's going to happen to that drunk driver who drove over those lines?" I told the girls that hopefully he'll go to jail. And a little reply came back "Is that ALL!?"

Is that all?!?

Somehow I feel like the girls... "Is that all?" Is that the most that we as a society do about these things? That man chose to drink and then chose to drive his van. And chances are, he'll only get a fine and a ticket. He'll probably never do time for the destruction he caused in so many innocent lives. He might lose his license over it. But he will most likely still continue to drive. Should he possibly get some jail time out of it, his time can not even compare to the pain and destruction inflicted upon his victims and all the "victims" close to and related to those victims.

The girls talked about how scared that little girl must be and wondered how long she will have nightmares. We prayed for the two women who were trapped in the vehicles and wondered if they will live through this catastrophe. And if they do live, will they ever be "ok" again. We tried to think of some solution to stop drunks from driving. But could not come up with any. The girls talked about how "nice those other people were" who had stopped to try to help and how scarey it must be to be a fireman trying to use "those big cutter saws." And then the youngest said "We'll have to call Grandma and Grandpa and tell them we're ok. We don't want them to worry about us meeting that drunk driver."

My tears returned as the realization again surfaced that it could have been our car crushed and my children trapped in one of those vehicles. It could have been my parents who, too, were driving home that same Sunday afternoon. I thought about those victims and how they and their families must be feeling right now. And again, I felt sick...so sick I was having trouble driving.

In the hospitals, I've seen and cared for many accident victims. But I have never seen anything that impacted me like that accident scene had. Nothing had ever felt like this before. And I thought about the word "accident." Yes, accidents happen every day. But can something so senseless and unneccessary even be called an "accident?"

That thought had barely traced through my brain when my 15 year old quietly announced, "I hope a judge and jury tries that man for attempted murder and then gives him the death penalty." I don't know that even THAT would be enough to prevent something like this from ever happening again.

My family will never be the same. With every curve on the rest of our journey, the girls reminded me to "Watch out for those lines Mommy. There might be another drunk driver up there." I caught myself thinking the same thing, cringing with every turn, not knowing what lies ahead around the next curve. And all I wanted to do was be home, more than I've ever wanted to be home in my life.

I guess with life, we never know what lies ahead. But I sure would like to think that somehow folks would have the common sense to stay off the roads if they feel the need to drink. A few more lives could be spared. There would be fewer little girls left behind without a parent. And at least some of the nightmares waiting around the next curve could be prevented.

I don't know why we were so inclined to pull off the interstate that day. And I still don't know what I can do to help the victims. But the girls and I figure that if at least one person reads or hears of our horrifying experience and thinks twice about drinking and driving, it might help somebody some day. So we'll keep talking about this. It won't help the victims. But maybe it will save someone else someday.

My eight year old says at this point to tell y'all that "That wreck was real bad just because that man didn't stay on his side of the line and there was lots of crying and blood everywhere. And that mother didn't even have a face...just blood and stuff. And the firemen couldn't put the blood back either so they might die and that ain't fair 'cause it wasn't their fault. And now that little girl might cry forever because she might not have a mommy anymore. And that ain't fair either. You should have seen it 'cause then you'd never drink again!"

The following picture of the accident came out the following day in the town's newspaper: