A Hospital Visit

The walls were white, the tile a dingy grey, and the hallway smelled like sterilizing cleanser and urine. Slowly I trudged up the stairs. I knew that I was obligated to go see her, but everything within me wanted to run, to escape, for I was wracked with guilt. What would she say? Would she even look at me? Did I even want her to look at me? I was convinced that her eyes would bore holes through my chest.

It was a gloomy March Sunday morning, overcast and cloudy, not raining at the moment, but it looked as though it could begin again any minute. More significantly, it was the day after the accident.

Since freshmen year, we had all been great friends, The Five of Us, as we referred to ourselves. That sunny Saturday had been our long-awaited study break – a day at Disneyland! We had talked about it for months, and finally the day came. We had experienced the wonder of Fantasy Land, adventured with Indiana Jones through snake-filled caves, screamed our way down the Tower of Terror, and been transported into the future together. It was a wonderful day! After eating fajitas and kettle corn, and watching the magical fireworks display, we loaded into my green station wagon, Tommy the Taurus, and headed back to campus around midnight. We were all exhausted, but it was a smooth ride.

A couple minutes away from the dorm, we waited at the red light by the Biola bells. Laurie thanked me for driving. "Sure, no problem," I had replied non-challantly.

As the light turned green the car ahead of us turned onto campus and I followed behind them. Suddenly, emerging from a fog, I awoke to my head on the air bag. Jerking myself up, I unfastened my seatbelt and jumped out of the car. 'What is going on? What happened?' Smoke was in the air and the awful smell of burnt rubber. I realized that my hoody sweatshirt was covered with little shards of glass. I felt a trickle of blood on my brow, and my wrist ached. Wiping my forehead, I cradled my hand. I was lost. My entire body was shaking. I had no idea what had happened or how I had gotten here. At the sound of the police sirens, I was horrified to discover that we had been in a wreck and it was my fault.

Frantically I called my parents on my cell phone. My mom answered, a bit groggy.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No, we’ve been in an accident.  I don’t know what happened!” I replied, digging through my mind for a recollection of how I got here, but I came up empty.  This worried her, yet she patiently tried to calm me down and get the details of what happened and who was hurt; however, I was in shock, trembling and confusing, and I found words difficult to articulate. Our fun day had quickly turned into a nightmare. Never in my life had I made such a big mistake. Never had I been responsible for inflicting so much pain. I wished that I could rewind the clock, but I was stuck; there was no going back.

Entering the room I caught a glimpse of the white sheets at the foot of the bed, and then quickly averted my eyes down to the tile floor.

“Hi Nancy,” I ventured, slowly lifting my eyes under the weight.

“Hi Tori!” she replied.

‘Was there a hint of cheer in her voice?’ I thought. 'Seriously? Here she is laid up in the hospital with a broken pelvis, and she greets me with a normal hello? Where is the anger? Where is the blame? Perhaps that is still to come.' Tensing every muscle, I braced myself to endure it.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I ventured, instantly regretting the question, for I thought she would certainly let me have it now. Surely she would tell me how much pain she felt, and that it had been my fault, that I had hurt her.

“I’m okay,” she simply replied. “It was a bit of a struggle to secure a room here, but I made it. It’s a nice room, isn’t it? Much better than that hole they had me in last night!”

"Yes, she is much more comfortable here," Nancy's mother chimed in. "And the doctors are excellent."

"That's good to know," I replied quietly, remembering the tight quarters of the emergency room, and seeing her lying on the gurney, a look of anguish twisting her face. "You have a nice view of the garden below," I added, glancing out the rain-speckled window.

"Yes, it is a very nice room," my mom nodded her head in affirmation.

"We're glad you are more comfortable," my dad added, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, for I was starting to shake.

"I picked this up for you in the gift shop," I said, stepping forward and handing her a little teddy bear.

"It's very cute. Thanks," she replied, holding the bear.

I was glad that she had accepted it, and not thrown it back in my face, but I quickly realized that in the midst of such pain, a little ball of fluff did little to repay my debt. The situation was hopeless. How could I earn her forgiveness? This was quickly becoming the longest few minutes of my life. The pressure was mounting in my soul, as I thought of hearing her sobs in the car, while she was trapped and waiting for the firemen to get her out. I thought of seeing her delicately lifted out of the car, helpless to do anything to ease the pain. Now she was here in the hospital. It was the middle of the semester. How was she going to continue her studies? How would she climb the stairs to our second floor dorm room? When would she walk again? How long would it take her to recover? Would life ever be the same again? The questions flooded my mind.

"Yes, it could be a number of weeks before she is up and walking again," her mother replied. "But we are hopeful," she added. "Nancy has a strong spirit. She's a survivor," she said, squeezing Nancy's hand.

'Yes, a survivor of the great affliction I caused her. A survivor, but a sufferer,' I thought. 'It is all my fault. I ruined her life. Weeks before she can even walk again? This is worse than I thought! No, I don't want to see the cat scan. It's broken in five places? Five places? Is that even possible? Wait - she might not be able to have kids?' I was trapped in the overwhelming torrent of guilt, as her mother recounted the doctor's report to my parents. I didn't know if I wanted to cry or scream. I just wanted to run away. 'How much more of this can I stand? How can I live with myself?'

"I don't blame you," Nancy whispered, noticing my dejection.

"What?" I replied, caught off guard. "But it is my fault that you are here. If I had seen that SUV...If I had stopped...If I had just waited a few seconds more...If I had been more aware...If I had not been so stupid, then you wouldn't be here!"

"It was an accident," she tried to reassure me. I did not think that little qualifier mattered. I had been the instrument of pain; therefore, I was guilty. There was no room for debate or distinctions – it was a black and white case. She had every right to blame me, to disown me, to decide not to be my friend, to never want to see me again…"And I forgive you," Nancy said.

'Had she really said it? Did I hear her right?' I thought. 'How can she? Does she know what she's saying? Perhaps they have her on morphine and she doesn't realize how difficult the road ahead will be.'

"Oh I'm so very sorry, Nancy!" I sobbed, wiping the tears away haphazardly with the back of my hand. "I wish I could make it all go away. I wish that I could take your pain. I should be the broken one."

"No, I forgive you, Tori," she repeated, taking my hand in hers.

In those few words the burden of guilt was lifted, not completely erased, that would take time, but that extension of grace, of forgiveness, Nancy's willingness to remain my friend both shocked me and gave me great relief. I had never felt such a sense of indebtedness, and now I felt that quiet joy, the restoration of peace in my soul. All was not well in the universe, I knew that full well, but it seemed that I need not despair. I had hope. We would continue the journey. Nancy would still be my friend, despite my flaws.

The next day lying on the couch in our dorm room, I called the Biola Counseling Center, realizing that I would need some help for this leg of the journey. Over the course of three months in counseling, through tears, the stupor of seeming indifference, anger, and finally some honest introspection, I came to accept the fact that accidents happen, that despite my efforts, I am not perfect, and that God brings goodness out of even the worst of tragedies. I stopped accusingly questioning why He had allowed the accident to cause Nancy such pain, and began to earnestly thank Him for sparing her life. In time I ceased to think about the accident every day or every week, or even every month. Five years later I am still a little nervous in the car, especially at night, but I continue to drive in the LA and Orange County rush hour traffic every day. "Nancy," as I have called her, did in fact have a long road ahead of her, but she recovered in truly miraculous ways. In arguably the most tragic and traumatic period of my young life, God brought healing and renewed assurance in His faithfulness and abundant love. And it all started in that hospital room with a word of forgiveness from a friend, with a bit of grace.