Fragility

Sometimes all it takes is one conversation - or more importantly, one sentence out of that conversation - to remind us how fragile life truly is.

One of my family members needed an emergency MRI last week and while my mom and I were talking about how difficult MRI's can be for some people, she mentioned my Dad.

After working for the construction company Kraus-Anderson for 30+ years, my Dad is now retired. We were always lucky, because he never had any bad accidents as carpenters often do. But all of that changed one day in the early/mid-80's.

My mom and I were going to my Grandma's house for a birthday party and my dad was going to meet us there later on (was working on a weekend job; they had a deadline). Almost as soon as we pulled into her driveway, my Aunt came running out yelling, "You need to get to the hospital! Jim's been in an accident!" That was the only information we were given. Our minds were racing while driving to the hospital, which seemed to take forever.

When we finally got to the hospital, we were met several of my Dad's co-workers. I knew then it was serious. Their expressions said it all.

He was down in a hole at the work site, when suddenly a thousand ton steel pole broke and came crashing down on him. Unable to escape, he was hit sideways; his face taking the blunt of it all. The entire side of his face was crushed. It was amazing even more damage wasn't done. He was extremely lucky to be alive.

As we approched his room, the Doctor explained he would be going in for surgery to have metal plates put in his face, where all the bone was crushed. I'll always remember when I saw my Dad in that hospital bed. He was all hooked up to different machines, the side of his face all swollen, horribly black and blue and bandaged up; with stitches above his eyes. He looked so helpless and so weak; it scared me. It was very strange for me to be on the opposite side of the hospital bed.

Over 20 years later, my dad is doing just fine. Every now and then the damp weather will make his face hurt, but other than that, he healed perfectly. Looking back, I realize just how close I came to being without a father. Our loved ones can be gone in an instant.

You may be asking, what does this have to do with an MRI and why can't my Dad ever have one? Well, I'll just say this: An MRI is basically like a magnet to your body and he has metal in his face. Enough said.