4thmaninthecar.com

Written by Paul David Rakes

Paul is a Freshman at Georgetown College

 

Hope in Despair

             On May seventh my mother received one of the most dreaded phone calls I could ever imagine.  I was in shock as I listened to the words being uttered from her lips.

            “Clark has been in a car accident … get a shower … dress comfortably …”

            My heart instantly raced faster than I could ever envision.  I raced to the shower and returned downstairs slightly cleaner.  We started driving towards the scene of the car crash when suddenly my mom’s cell phone began to ring.  I, fearing the worst, hesitated to answer.  I eventually picked up the phone, realizing it was only a voice message.  I started to listen to the message…

            “Clark was in a car crash, *Indistinguishable*, they are putting him on an intubator.”

            After asking my mother what this meant, I started to cry.  My best friend was having a machine breathe for him.  I attempted to pray, but I could not.  I was consumed by fear and doubt.  What if he dies?  What if my best friend dies?  As my eyes continued to swell with tears, as we edged ever closer to the scene of the wreck, only to be pulled over by the county police.  As we explained the situation the officer cautioned us and sent us on our way.  Shortly thereafter my mother parked the car in the driveway of my cousin Brandon “Bug” Hulett.

            Before the car even stopped I began to race to the top of the hill; the scene of the crash.  My mother called me back multiple times, saying she wanted me to stay close, but I continued to ignore her.  As I trekked closer and closer I began to see the faint image of the yellow Lancer.  I then felt a jolt of fear, and I bolted for the car.  Shortly after this I was stopped by my cousin Bug, who began to fill me in on what happened.

            “Paul…he was going really fast…the car is in really bad shape…so is Clark.”  My mind and self-centeredness began to take over.  I cursed many times, words which I refuse to type in this paper. Why in the world would he race?!  I told him NEVER to race?! What was he thinking?!  Hearing this news I began to cry… for his safety, for his recovery, and for myself.  Wrapped in the arms of my cousin, I cried like a baby, something I seldom remember ever doing. 

            After a few seconds I calmed down again, only to have my mother inform me that we were heading to the hospital.  Bug asked me who I wanted to ride with; I compared my options, and chose my mother for one reason: her car was faster than his minivan.  My mother drove like a crazed lunatic all the way to the hospital.  We emerged from the vehicle, and a huge crowd in the emergency room began to form.

            I entered in the doors and saw my remarkable friend Kristin.  The pain in her eyes was all too real to me… I ran toward her and we both began to weep, because our friend was in the worst shape of his life…  A nurse came along and opened the private waiting area, and we decided to enter it.  I don’t remember all that happened there, but I do remember writing a lot on a piece of paper, attempting to relieve my anger and pain.  Why?  Why him, of all people?  I broke down… I began to purge my feelings to some of the people in the waiting room… it did help, but only a short while.  Eventually we left, and this began the waiting period.

            In what seemed like years, Clark began to improve.  One day I met my mother at Wendy’s for dinner.  Afterwards we decided to go visit Clark, and that is when my spirits changed.  I ventured into his hospital room, careful not to touch any of the contraptions connected to his body, and his mother began to talk to me.  She said she had a present for me; my birthday was the week before.  As she was about to give it to me, she handed the envelope to Clark.  “Give it to him Clark, give Paul the card.”  I don’t know if he remembers this, but his hand edged minutely closer to me, and I accepted the card with an amazing feeling.  A feeling of relief, he had acknowledged who I was.  He remembered me.  As I thought about this I began to get teary eyed, when his mother asked him to give me a thumbs up.  As his fist began to clutch slightly, and the thumb rose above the other fingers, I knew at that moment he would live, he would recover.

            This sign was my turning point; it allowed me to view the entire recovery differently.  It reminded me that my friend was not dead.  He would recover and return home.  He would eventually recover his lost skills.  He would be a walking miracle, and that is what he is.  Clark is a beacon of hope in despair.  He is a symbol I look towards to remind myself that God works miracles.  God loves and cares about us, and he will help us when we need him. God will never abandon me no matter what I am going through, God is always here with me, and God is always there for you.