Lucky???, A true poem I hope will make people think before they go out to drink. Options

[Guest_Ellen_*]

LUCKY???




“You’re lucky she is even here,”
They heard the doctor sigh.
“Did all we could…but I fear,
She very well might die.”

“Injuries were horrendous.
Her body may not cope.
The blood loss was tremendous.
I can’t give you much hope.”

“Multiple compound fractures,
And severely bruised heart;
Right lung collapsed from punctures;
Still,….THAT….is just a start….”

“Lower leg was crushed and cooked.
We’re forced to amputate.
There’s more surgeries to book,
But they will have to wait.”

“Sternum, ribs, arms, lower back…
Ankle, wrists, hands and knees…
Broken and crushed; one hip cracked.
There’s even more than these”

“Femur completely shattered,
Muscles torn and tattered.”

“Must have been quite a wreck,
She also broke her neck.”

“Drug allergies prevent us
Prescribing meds for pain.
So, we’ll keep her comatose.
That seems the most humane.”

Three weeks in intensive care,
They leaned on each other.
Uniting in fervent prayer,
“Please don’t take our mother.”

In answer to words spoken,
My spirit was sent back…
In body badly broken,
To keep their faith on track.

In a coma, you can hear
Voices and what is said;
Feel the touch of loved ones near
As they gently stroke your head.

“She’s so lucky!” voices churned,
Determined, I resolved…...
When I awoke they would learn,
There was no luck involved.

Speeding driver, drunk and high,
At the scene, he did die.

But I sit here wracked with pain,
My whole life forever changed.

Hope this poem will make you think.
When you drive, please don‘t drink.

NOTE: The pic is one I found on Photobucket and is quite similar to what my car looked like, except the rescue team had to cut through the roof of my car too to slide me out on a backboard after they were able to jack up the engine that was sitting on top of me.

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[4rum]

I worked Fire/Rescue for 17 years. I cut mangled metal in places you could not see. Places the only way to tell that you were not cutting flesh was to put your hand/arm in and 'feel' to place the cutters or spreaders. I helped extricate victims with injuries like those you describe. Most often once packaged, I never got an update on the patients. Some I would hear later didn't make it. The ones, lucky or unlucky, as I feel is determined by the QUALITY of life preserved, I rarely heard from. Their pain, suffering, recovery and the strains it puts on them and their family, I was spared the knowledge of. The children were the worst for me. Babies torn and bruised. So many times it was because of a drunk driver. The innocents have no choice. That freedom is taken from them. Often the perpetrators do not learn. I helped cut the same man from two vehicles in one week.

And now, it is cell (mobile) phones that are causing the same accidents on our highways. Just because you cannot wait a few minutes to pull over, you take away that opportunity for someone forever.

Your poem is very relevent. It tells a story that could happen to any one of us the very next time we leave home in an automobile.