It was June 30th, 2003, my older brother Tad's 21st birthday. He was out celebrating with his friends after the party that mom and dad threw him at home. Can't say that I blamed him because even though mom and dad tried their best, they always threw lame parties. There always had to be a theme to every party. The year earlier, for my 18th birthday, they threw me a carnival theme party. To them it seemed like a fun idea but to me it seemed as if they still thought of me as a child. This was the very reason why I stayed at college for my 19th birthday. Tad's party theme this year was boats, of all things. Something he had absolutely no interest in. Hell, he could barely swim.
I was still up at 1:45am, simply because I wanted to see what my brother looked like severely toasted for the first time legally. Why I thought he would look and act any different from the hundred other times he had come home wasted was beyond me, but I was waiting anyway, putting together a puzzle that I knew had a piece missing just to pass the time. I watched as cars passed the house, their passing headlights streaking across the darkened room. I must have been nodding off when there was a firm knock on the front door that pierced the silence. Immediately I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. As I looked through the peephole in the door I saw a police officer and immediately opened the door knowing that he wasn't going to be saying anything that I wanted to hear.
"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Officer Nelson. Do you know Theodore Watson?"
"H-He's my brother," I said, my voice lumping in my throat. "Is he alright?"
"Are your parents here Miss...?" he said seemingly asking my name.
"I'm Sarah. Mom and dad are sleeping."
"How old are you Sarah?"
"Nineteen. Is Tad OK?" my voice begging now.
Mom and Dad walked around the corner in time to hear me ask about my brother.
"What about Tad? Where is he?" dad bellowed.
"You need to be calm, sir. Are you Tad's father?"
"Yes, is he alright? Did he get a DUI?" mom asked, tears welling in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, but Tad was in an accident. He wasn't driving but you should get to University Hospital as soon as you can." the officer said, sounding as if he had delivered the same words way too many times to too many families.
My heart sank and I started sobbing uncontrollably. I heard the officer's and dad's voices but I couldn't hear what was being said. Dad had to physically move me away from the door so he could close it. Mom and I were crying and dad was trying his best to stay calm, all the while throwing tears away from his own eyes. Mom and dad dressed and within two minutes we were calmly being escorted to the hospital by the officer. The ten minute drive seemed like hours.
When we finally walked into the emergency room, we found out that Tad was in the operating room and it would be a few hours before we could see him. The receptionist told us where to go to wait and said that she would inform the attending ER doctor that we were there. After sitting in the surgical waiting room for what seemed like hours, the doctor from the ER finally arrived to tell us that Tad was going to be alright, but that he had a broken back and that both of his wrists were broken. My mind immediately though the worst; paralyzation, wheelchair, all the things that you normally associate with having a broken back. But the doctor explained that with modern surgical wonders, Tad will most likely be back to normal because even though he did have a slight injury to his spinal cord, it should heal with time, as would the vertebra that had broken in his back. He said that the breaks in Tad's wrists were actually more severe than the back injury, but they too would heal in time. We all breathed a giant sigh of relief as the doctor spoke those words. We were still concerned but our tears seemed to turn from ones of sadness and fear to those of happiness.
It was nearly 5:00am when dad woke me to say that Tad was out of surgery and was going into the recovery room. The doctor explained to us that Tad was sedated but that he had some function of both his legs and that in time he believed that Tad would make a full recovery. He also explained that the surgeons had placed a temporary titanium rod that fused three of his vertebras so that the one broken one could heal properly. He also explained that Tad was going to be in a brace and bedridden for at least six to eight weeks before he would even be allowed to stand. We turned the corner into the recovery area and saw that Tad had four IV's running and had an oxygen mask covering his face, which was scraped raw, swollen and bruised from the accident. We all stayed at the hospital for the better part of three days. And in that time, Tad was allowed to come out of the coma that the doctors had induced to keep him immobile.
Fast forward 5 weeks...
Tad's outward wounds had all healed and the only sign still remaining of his accident was the hospital bed planted in the corner of our living room that he was lying in still encased in his casts and brace. He had regained all motion in his lower body just as the doctors had thought. His wrists were healing nicely and Tad had become a pain in the ass more than anything else. He had to be fed and helped to go to the bathroom. But he was taking full advantage of the situation, causing mom to run endlessly to keep up with his every need and want. Luckily I never had to do the nasty chores, mom choosing to do it all herself. That was up until mom had to go back to work or risk losing her job. I was forced into a situation that I had managed to avoid for all those weeks, and one that I was not looking forward to.
That Monday when mom returned to work I slept in, as usual. I mean, come on, I was on summer break and there was only a week until I had to return to classes at the University. I awoke to the sounds of Tad screaming my name.
"SARAH!" he was yelling as loud as he could.
I ran downstairs, still in my nightshirt, thinking he had fallen out of bed or worse.
"Oh my God! What's wrong? Are you OK Tad?" I said as I got nearer his bed.
"I've been yelling for you since 8:45!" he said excitedly. I turned to see that it was almost 10:00am.
"What's the matter?"
"Well I HAD to go to the bathroom, but since you slept all fucking morning, I pissed myself," he explained, "and now you have to clean it, and me, up."
I glanced down at the bed and sure enough, the pad he was lying on was soaked to the point of not containing all of his urine and had slightly soaked the sheet under it and the bottom hem of the hospital gown he was wearing. I tried hard but I couldn't contain myself and burst out laughing. Tad, however, didn't see the humor in it.