Echos of the Mind

I've never been able to remember the actual accident. I just remember slowly waking up, the rough gravel against my face, not being able to move, or wanting to, really. It was peaceful and painful at the same time. I remember hearing a car door slam and someone shouting something in the distance.

The next thing I remember is a voice telling me I would be alright and a light shining in each eye successively. My head ached, throbbing with each sound and voice. And I was surrounded by sounds and voices now. And they kept asking me questions, now.

"Do you know your name?"

"How old are you?"

"Where do you live?"

"Did you see who hit you?"

. . . who hit me? Did he say 'who hit me?' Was I hit by something? Why don't I remember that?

I tried to answer them but I don't think I was making any sense. They had me strapped to a gurney, now. I couldn't move my head, which was probably just as well, but I am claustrophobic and the immobility was horrible. Faces would hover over me momentarily, look in my face or eyes, ask me things I was too slow to answer and then disappear. I remember the sky was a pale blue that day. Just a few wispy clouds. It was all I could see when they weren't in my face. But there were so many voices and sounds and sirens . . . and . . .

I remember bits and pieces from the ambulance. The metal roof . . . the racks of supplies . . . a hand on my wrist . . . the pain in my leg beginning to assert itself . . . the dispatcher on the radio . . . a kind voice telling me to take it easy . . .

They must have given me something for the pain in the emergency room. The next thing I knew I was in a surgical recovery area and my wife was holding my hand. A nurse was saying, "There he is." I guess she meant me.

"I think I had an accident." I mumbled apologetically.

"You were hit by a car while you were jogging." My wife explained.

"I remember coffee at the table and tying my shoes . . . " I said.

"Memory loss is common in accidents like this." the nurse interrupted. "How are you feeling, Mr. Bonus?" she asked me.

"Kinda sleepy. And I'm thirsty." I answered truthfully.

"I'll let the Doctor know you're awake." She said as if he would bring me something to drink.

So, he came and went. I stayed in the hospital for a few days because of the broken leg. It took months to heal. I missed work. I gained weight, just sitting around. I limp when it is damp and in the winter time. And life went on.

I still jog. But not as far anymore. I stay on trails and go to parks a lot now. But I just can't shake the idea that somebody hit me with a car, saw me flip ten or fifteen feet into the air, tumble onto the gravel berm . . . and just drove away.

I still don't remember the actual accident. But I'll never forget it either.