Long ago and south and east.
We went to the Riverside County Fair, known by most as “the Date Festival.” It was February, there were honest and true people in costume (the ladies in harem pants and the gentlemen in red fezzes). In one of the animal barns a future farmer of america (FFA) was showing his rabbit. The future farmer was about nine years old. He stood, stalwart and firm, in front of a judge’s table, trying to show a completely recalcitrant rabbit. The farmer would show a rabbit paw, the judge would examine said paw, and the rabbit would go apeshit. It would try to jump and get out of its owner’s grasp. But the grasp of the boy was greater than the madness of the bunny. The boy held and petted the bunny, calming it down. Then he would show another paw or foot or other body part, and the whole song would begin again.
The judge kept the straightest face in the world.
It was Philip’s great day. His mass was sung at St. Paul’s. I think I speak for the whole choir, we sweated blood all over the damn thing. Being a Schoenbergain, his chords were hard to learn. But it was a good performance, a good first pass and the usual suspects collected at the house to eat and drink and celebrate.
I did not see it happen, thank blessed Jesus. Everything had been eaten (I didn’t make enough) and the children were out on the front porch getting high. From the house I heard a problem on the porch. The problem was my life, lying on the ground and turning a color that does not exist in nature.
They, all the saints, tried to get him up the steep stairs. But he is 6 feet 2 inches tall and over 200 pounds. As dead weight, that’s hard to shift. Christopher cushioned Philip’s head in his lap. Tania, nephew Sean’s perfect sweetie, called 911. Her mother Anna is a nurse and they were standing stones in the river of panic that was overtaking me. My life was being put into an ambulance and taken to Highland Hospital, trauma center of the north county, known to some as The Saturday Night Knife and Gun Club. Nephew Sean took me to said club because I was not fit to drive and it was only going to get worse.
We got to emergency and I said I wanted to see my husband. They said that he was in a CT scanner and I could see him in 45 minutes. And I got worse. They sent me a very nice social worker and I was rude and dismissive. The ward nurse, the person in charge, saw madness in my spinning eyes. She excused the nice social worker and explained why my life was at Highland Hospital rather than at our Kaiser (which is 5 blocks from our house) because of trauma. Trauma, head trauma, he fell downstairs and they had to check for back, neck or head trauma. By this time I wanted to burn the damn place down. I have always gotten angry when I am frightened. The older I get the worse it gets. I was terrified. I didn’t want a nurse, no matter how thoughtful and kind. I wanted a doctor to tell me when I could take my life home. Well, I could just go ahead and want.
They got Philip into a bed after the CT scan and neck x-rays. Then they gave me a ward pass with one extra that could be passed to one of the many who wanted to see him. The lobby was filled with our people. My in-laws from Cupertino with said nephew Sean with sweetie and sweetie’s mommy were the first wave, and Philip’s brother Steven joined me at the bedside. There was my life on a hospital bed with a neck brace. He was not breathing well because of the brace but they didn’t know that. They were looking for neck trauma.
It was so good that the nurse came in to remove the brace within two minuets of me sitting down. (By this time the word on the ward was I was completely mad and must be treated gently.) His head was getting really stuffy because of the neck brace and the flat bed. She gently (I don’t remember anyone’s name except for one Dr. named Gilbert) removed the brace because the neck x-rays were clear. No neck trauma
And so it went. Doctors and nurses came, went and tried to calm me down. I was the apeshit rabbit. Family and friends came to check in. First was brother Steven and sis-in-law Betty, then came Christopher K., musician extraordinary, who cradled Philip’s head in his lap as we waited for the EMT’s. It was Christopher who saw Philip fall and Christopher who discovered my life’s super power. As described, Philip fell on the first of 7 steep steps, turned into a barrel, and rolled down the stairs. He never hit his head nor did his neck get out of whack. But nobody knew that, so that’s why we were at Highland. (Do you hear the rabbit?)
Tonia was sitting with us and the rabbit was almost calm when a triage nurse came in with not the best confession. I had checked the yellow plastic bag of Philip’s belongings. There were the shoes, there was the tie and there was the little wallet. But where were the money, the keys and the phone? In fact where were his clothes? After a check with emergency the triage nurse came in. She was very apologetic but not only were Philip’s clothes cut off of him (he was compos mentis and could have cooperated in getting them off), they were thrown to the ground, cleaned up and thrown away. This information set the rabbit off. I frightened a triage nurse at Highland Hospital in Oakland CA. I am not proud of this fact.
Just a heads up: adrenaline is a powerful drug. I am not used to it. I started to crash and just wanted to get in the bed with Philip and go to sleep. Finally my life was transfered to Kaiser (did I say 5 blocks from our house?) everyone else was sent to their own beds and I went home to get clothes, books and reading glasses for my life. Chad had asked to sit with his dad if said dad needed to spend the night at Kaiser. The son came over, picked up the bag and got bad instructions to Kaiser emergency. (For those of you not from Oakland, Kaiser has finally finished a new place between Piedmont and Broadway. I forgot.)
Five minutes after Chad left, Philip called to say Kaiser wanted him to go home. They looked at everything, figured out that he had fainted, nothing was broken and would you please take him away. Thus, rather than having to spend the evening with his father in the hospital, Chad was allowed to bring him home. After kisses and all love, the perfect son went to his own hearth and I put my life into his own bed. I did wake up several times in the night just to check he was there. My perfect boss gave me Tuesday off in addition to my normal Monday, and I came to work on Ash Wednesday almost straight.
I am the rabbit and my atheist Baptist Philip holds the rabbit and pets and calms me down, even from his hospital bed. And through him, despite his unbelief, Christ holds the rabbit. The love and support of my Lord was manifested in so many. Sean with his careful attention and clear head was a manifestation of Christ. The friends, the Muffletumps, who cleaned up after the party so I came home to a sweet house, they were manifestations of Christ. The love of Christ fell on me like rain that day.
Christ is also the judge, working hard to keep a straight face while the the rabbit goes apeshit.
