Handcuffed Bliss - Watty Awards... 2012

My mother

Caroline's POV:

I watched in horror as I saw mom tumble down the stairs. I tried to get up and rush towards her but my stupid legs refused to carry me. I missed a step and fell. I was a few feet away from mom now. She was bleeding from her head, lying in an awkward angel. She wasn't moving. I yelled for dad and yelled at mom. Nothing, she lay there like a rag doll.

I tried to move but even that was not possible. I was scared now. Mom always responded to me. Always. But for every second that she lay there I begged the Lord to please save her, take my life instead, but please save this angle who let me call her mom.

Dad heard the commotion and came rushing down. He blanched at the sight greeting him. He ran to mom and tried to wake her, but nothing again. She simply did not stir. He rushed to me and helped me up then placing me next to mom he ran to dial 911.

I sat there, next to mom, loving her the way she loved me; patting her face, kissing her head, yet nothing. I was bawling my eyes out but she did not get up. Not even to wipe my tears. It was the same hell again. I was going to lose a mother. It was killing me. I did not have the guts to go through this hell.

"Where the hell is the damn ambulance?" I yelled at dad. It had taken forever yet the ambulance wasn't here. He sat next to me; cradling her limp body and me. He too had tears in his eyes. "She will be alright Caro. Don't worry."

Soon we heard the sirens and Dad ran to arrange them inside. They loaded her and were all set to take her in when I requested that they take me too. One of them picked me up and put me inside, next to her stretcher. 

Dad zoomed past us and was inside the hospital when they unloaded mom. She had still not moved. The paramedic with me in the ambulance had put her on some drips and was constantly in touch with the hospital. Everything from there on was a blur. They moved fast, rushing her into the theatre for scans and tests and what not while dad and I were taken to the waiting room. 

I realized something very important then, I had still to call grandma. "Dad,” I ventured softly, "Can I have your cell? I want to call Grandma. Please." He looked at me and nodded, too choked to really speak. He was as white as a sheet. I dialed grand's number and was surprised to see her number on the speed dial. 

"Hello, son in law??" her voice chirped and I lost my nerve. How will I tell her? I wondered.

"Hello??" She asked again and I let out a sob. "Gran?" I whispered

"What has happened Caro?" She asked, her voice laced with panic. When I couldn’t respond, she began soothing me, promising me she would make everything alright, I simply had to tell her the problem, she said.

I couldn't control my fears. Her soothing voice broke the damn of self control as I broke down; totally. "Gran... Mom...sob... Mom… hospital...sob... come... please…" I couldn't say anything more. I was petrified. I hated the hospitals; they always brought back bad memory. It was now happening all over again. 

Dad was hugging me, telling me it would all be alright. But in my mind I was an 8 year old, sobbing for my mother; clutching my dad and doll; praying that God saves my mother.

It was happening again. I was praying for my mother again and what scared me most was The Lord had not listened to me then. Would he listen to me now?