A Crowbar Knocks Some Sense Into Him

I’ll admit it, I was distracted. I heard my phone vibrate and saw I got a text. It was from Tina Simons, a woman who had interviewed me for a job that morning. I had been a high school teacher, but lost the job due to staff cutbacks. The job I applied for was teaching at a private school, not exactly what I wanted, but I needed the money. I was excited to hear from her, since I had been unemployed for several months and my funds were running low. I couldn’t help it. I took a quick look at the road in front of me. No cars in front of me and none were coming toward me. So, I started reading. That’s the last thing I remembered.

I’ve since been told that I was in the middle of an intersection when a car, running a stop sign, mind you, hit me broadside and sent my car spinning in a circle. My car must have rolled without me noticing it. The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room. A nurse said, “Welcome back stranger!”

“Where am I?”

The nurse explained the situation, telling me I was in a car accident and very fortunate to be alive. “You got banged up pretty badly, Mr. Morton. Your left leg is broken, your collarbone too. You had a little bit of internal bleeding, but luckily, no head injuries.”

The fog I felt in my brain was beginning to clear. “You’re as handsome as ever. She brushed back my brown locks away from my face.     

The surgeon stopped by and told me pretty much the same thing. “The first responders did a great job taking care of you and getting you here right away.” He gave me a thorough examination. “No serious head injuries. The airbag protected you. But you did take a solid glancing blow to the back of your head.” He took a quick look at the back of my head. “Your head injury is minor, just three stiches, a bit odd. If you had been seated properly behind the wheel looking straight ahead, I’m not sure we’d be having this conversation.”

“Why is that?” I asked suddenly feeling a throb on that spot.

“It was a crowbar of all things. Lucky for you it was a glancing blow.”

“Crowbar? Where would a crowbar come from?” I asked.

“The EMS team said they think the man driving the other car had a crowbar in his backseat. Speculation is it went flying through his windshield and through your driver’s side window.”

“Wow.”

“Do you have any idea of what you were doing at the time of impact?”

“Not really. Maybe it will come to me later.”

The surgeon pulled out his phone and showed it to me. “Does this refresh your memory?” He shook his head and left.

I spent the next few days mostly confined to a hospital bed. Several friends visited me and my father, a widower, flew in from Ann Arbor to check on me. “You look terrible Stevie,” he said. He tried to give me a stern look, but I could see he was relieved. A nurse’s aide gave him my cell phone. The battery was dead and, of course, I didn’t have a charger. He took care of that. By the time he was ready to leave for his hotel, the phone was charged, but the meds were putting me to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, the nurse was tending to my needs. I looked for my phone. The nurse took it from my bedside table and handed it to me. “Not sure you I should let you have this,” she said. By this time, my head was clear enough to remember that message I had been so eager to read. I went immediately to my text messages. Whatever she wrote, had it been worth nearly losing my life?

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get my body positioned so I could read the message.

Her message was simple. “Steve, we’d like to make you an offer, call me.” That was three days ago. She didn’t send a follow up message.

I struggled but managed to send a response. “Sorry, I was in a car accident moments after you sent this. Currently a resident of the medical center. Is the job still available? I noticed it was just after eight a.m. I started looking at other messages, but the nurse took the phone and said, “Rest a bit.” She smiled and placed it on my bedtable where I could reach it.

An hour later, I heard the phone vibrate. It hurt my collarbone to move it, but I managed. It was Tina Simons. “Sorry, we filled the job. Wishing you a speedy recovery. Call me when you feel up to it. We may have another opening soon.”

I was too tired to be disappointed. I was discharged from the hospital that afternoon. It occurred to me that not only was I still out of work, my car was totaled. And, I had been given a ticket for texting while driving. Still, I felt lucky. That crowbar could have killed me.

That night, back in my apartment, I started searching for jobs. It didn’t take long to find one I liked. The local high school was searching for a driving instructor. I had a story I wanted to tell.