Carol Gino: Another Little Miracle

Another Little Miracle...

It happened again. I never think it will, but still it does, and I'm always baffled, not understanding what just happened to me. This particular encounter was on the day of my granddaughter's birthday and I was driving to my mother's house to celebrate and light some candles with the rest of my family.

Merrick Road is a four lane highway. Two lanes east, two west. And there was a ton of traffic headed toward Jones Beach. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a clear and cloudless. I had the windows down, and the radio was playing as I sang along. Actually, I was marveling at the color of the sky when I suddenly saw what seemed to be a brown paper shopping bag flying across the sky. But that seemed wrong because it didn't tumble or fly lightly enough, it seemed to have direction, to be making an arch. A seagull? I wondered. But no, there are no khaki brown seagulls. None that I've seen anyway. I was pondering, squinting, trying to make out what I was seeing, when suddenly it seemed to dive right onto the black pavement in front of my car and landed flat across the yellow line.

Then I saw the bicycle, and my head did a funny thing. I had to concentrate and try to think rationally. Paper bags and seagulls don't ride bicycles! It must be a person, I thought. (Not till later did I commend myself on my brilliant observation!) I stopped the car a few feet from what I could now identify as a middle aged man wearing a khaki shirt, black trousers, a lot of blood on the pavement underneath his head. I kneeled down next to him and quickly grabbed his wrist to feel his pulse.

Nice, strong, regular. Okay, it wasn't his heart. I leaned down and put my ear on his chest to make sure. Nice, strong, regular beat. Okay. But he was out cold. Several people began mulling around, and I heard someone shout "Call 911." The bicycle seemed to disappear. A few people hovered near, one girl held his other hand. "He's okay," I said to them. "I'm a nurse." Even as I said it, some voice inside my head teased me and asked, what has that got to do with him? I meant it as a reassurance, I answered myself.

Blood was everywhere. I quickly reached inside my pocket to see if I had something to wipe his face, but I had nothing. I looked down quickly at my tee shirt and decided, I couldn't undress in the middle of the highway to take off a red shirt which was pigment dyed because it could infect him. Great thinker am I. So then I called for help. "Any of you have a handkerchief?" I asked around, and only then did I see that 6 mini vans had made a circle of defense to keep the traffic going east from hitting us. I turned my head and saw, behind us, several other cars that stopped the traffic going west. A circle of Angels, no doubt, I thought, orchestrated perfectly.

A man came forward holding out his handkerchief, and I smiled and thanked him as I took it. But when I wiped off the still unconscious man's face, I found the source of his bleeding. He had been wearing glasses because the fallen lens was lying next to him and had cut through his right eyebrow and forehead making a deep gash. I held the handkerchief with enough pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

"Maybe he has a seizure disorder," I said aloud. He was still out cold. Then a young man came to kneel next to me. He held a box of latex gloves toward me and said, "I'm an Emergency Medical Technician. You should put these on." They looked as foreign as the paper bag that only minutes before had been flying through the air. I looked down at my hands. They were covered with blood. I smiled and thanked him too. "Sorry," I said. "But I think it's a little late. I'm already a mess.." He stood up and nodded.

Suddenly, the man on the pavement began to struggle, began to try to pull my hand away from his forehead, began to kick.
"Grab him," someone shouted. "So he doesn't hurt himself."
"It's okay," I said. "He'll be okay. He's just coming to." After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. "You're okay," I said to him. "You'll be fine."
"I want to sit up," he said, hoarsely.
"If you can, do," I said. "I can't help you in case you have a back injury."
He sat up easily. "What happened?" he asked.
"Do you have a seizure disorder?" I asked. Then, "What's your name."
"I didn't have a disorder," he said. "I don't think. My name's Fred."
"You were riding a bike..." I said.
"I was?" he said. "Whose bike?"
"Don't have a clue, Fred," I said. "But I'm sure it will all come back to you."

It was then I heard the sirens and saw the red rescue truck and ambulance. Several police women and men were talking on loud walkie talkies. I looked around again. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. A policewoman came over and looked at the man and then at me. "I'd better get you something to wash your hands with," she said. I noticed she was holding her walkie talkie with a hand covered with latex gloves.

"I'm okay," I said. "I'll wash when I get home." I looked at my watch. Jeez, I thought, I am so late. "I have to go," I told her. "What's your name?" she asked. "Carol," I said. "Now can you move that wooden barrier so I can get through? I'm late for a birthday party."
She smiled. "Sure," she said, as I hopped back into my car and drove away. Another policeman shouted after me, "Thanks, Carol." On the drive home, I wondered why that man looked like a paper bag flying through the air...what was going on with me? And then I remembered how all those vans and cars circled us to keep us safe. How bad can the world be? I thought. I mean, this is New York.

Outside my mother's house, I parked and then ran inside. My daughter was standing in the living room and she was the first one I saw. "Is that your blood on your hands, Mom?" she asked, quite evenly. "Nope," I said. "It belonged to a man who was flying through the air like a paper bag and fell on the pavement in front of my car."
"Well, you better go wash off and disinfect them," she said.
One of my granddaughter's asked, "Did he die?"
"Nope," I said, "I think he's okay. Or my spirit and the angels wouldn't have had me right there, and certainly wouldn't have put him in the middle of a four lane highway with a complete defense line of minivans."
My son-in-law was sitting on the couch, eating, buffet style. "Remind me to stay off the roads whenever you're planning to go out," he said. Something very much like this had happened just a few months before. "I didn't hit him," I said. "All I did was find him." Another of my granddaughters said, "Tell us the story?"
But my mother, who had watched from the time I walked in the door, just said, "Carol, you can talk later. Finish washing your hands. It's time to eat. The macaroni's getting cold."

That night I called the hospital. Fred was in the Intensive Care Unit. I asked the Nursing Supervisor what his condition was, and what had really happened, but she told me she couldn't give me any more information but that he was on "Critical". The next night I called again. Fred was still on critical, but this time the nursing supervisor told me he was "stable."
By the end of the week, when I called again, Fred had been moved out of ICU and onto one of the medical floors. When I last called, he was doing well, and so they discharged him. Soon, when I can't stand it another minute, I'll call Fred.

I haven't yet because I'm trying to "grow," "surrender," and just "do my part." The rest I'm trying "to let go" to the Universal Source which by now I've figured out is watching out for all of us!
God! Life is full of miracles, and I'm so grateful, I get to be a part of all of it. Even on my day off.

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