Jimmy

by Robert Whitlow

  His heart pounding, Jimmy touched the right side of his head. His hand came away covered with blood. Grandpa, still buckled, lay sideways at an awkward angle on the seat. His eyes were closed. He didn’t appear to be bleeding. Jimmy touched Grandpa on the shoulder.

  “Grandpa! Wake up!”

  Grandpa didn’t move. Jimmy shook him harder.

  “Grandpa! We had a wreck!”

  No response.

  Jimmy unbuckled his seat belt, turned sideways, and tried to open the door. It was jammed. He put his feet against it and pushed, but it didn’t move. He turned toward Grandpa. Blood ran across Jimmy’s eyes, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Grandpa’s eyes were closed, and his mouth gaped open. Jimmy tried to straighten Grandpa’s body, but it was too heavy.

  “Grandpa! Can you hear me?”

  Jimmy’s panic increased. Hot tears flushed from his eyes and mixed with the blood oozing from his head. He pulled up his shirt and wiped his face. He didn’t know what to do. In a moment, the tears stopped as quickly as they’d come. He had to think clearly.

  “Grandpa,” he said in a softer voice.

  Jimmy reached out and touched the old man’s forehead. It was warm, and Jimmy could feel beads of sweat above Grandpa’s eyebrows.

  The windshield was cracked. The hood of the truck was smashed in. Jimmy tried to roll down the passenger window, but the handle didn’t work. Jimmy looked past Grandpa. The window on the driver’s side was partially rolled down, but to get to the window he would have to crawl over Grandpa. Jimmy hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt Grandpa, but he had to get out of the truck and go for help.

  Blood continued to ooze from his head. He wiped it away with his sleeve. Grabbing the steering wheel, he pulled himself toward the driver’s side door and tried to slide his body past Grandpa without hurting him. Jimmy transferred his right hand from the steering wheel to the door handle and pulled himself higher until he rested against Grandpa’s leg. He tried to open the door, but it too was jammed shut. He grabbed the knob for the window with his left hand and turned it. It was stiff but moved a few inches before stopping. Jimmy tried to force it, but it didn’t budge. Looking up at the window, he realized that he’d turned it the wrong way and closed it. Changing directions, he turned the knob several turns and watched the window slowly come down about two-thirds of the way, then stop. He pushed hard against the knob, but the window wasn’t going any lower.

  Grabbing the top of the window with a bloody hand, he pulled himself toward the opening. He was able to get his head outside but couldn’t manage enough leverage with his feet to force his shoulders through the narrow opening. He tried to find a foothold on the floorboard, but his foot slipped off the brake pedal. He put his feet on the seat and pushed. His shoulders popped through the window, and his body followed. He tumbled onto the rocks and grass beside the road. More blood trickled down his face. The truck was at a slight angle, but he could still see inside. Grandpa remained fallen over onto the seat. He hadn’t moved since the truck came to rest and gave no sign that he knew about Jimmy’s efforts to escape. Jimmy stuck his face in the window.

  “Grandpa! Please move!”

  Jimmy was puzzled about why he could crawl from the truck even though bleeding while Grandpa, who didn’t have a serious scratch, remained unconscious. Suddenly, Jimmy understood.

  Grandpa’s heart.

  He frantically reached inside the truck and touched Grandpa’s chest. He couldn’t tell anything. He had to put his ear over Grandpa’s heart and listen for the reassuring thump, thump, thump. Jimmy climbed up on the running board, but when he tried to put his right leg inside the window, he lost his balance and fell backward, landing hard on his tailbone. He groaned as a sharp pain shot up his spine. He sat still for several seconds before gingerly standing up. He felt slightly dizzy.

  A sound in the distance caused him to glance down the road. A car was approaching from the direction of the pond. Items from the back of Grandpa’s truck, including Jimmy’s bicycle, were strewn alongside the road. Jimmy wiped more blood from his eyes and managed to lift his right arm in the air to wave. His world began to spin, and he blacked out.

  WHEN HE WOKE UP, JIMMY WAS LYING ON A STRETCHER BEING lifted into the back of an ambulance. An EMT held his head steady in a neck brace as they slid him in. The doors closed and the ambulance turned onto the road. He heard the sound of a siren as the driver sped down the highway. A man held up a tube and needle. Jimmy tried to speak, but he drifted away before any words formed in his mouth.

  He forced his eyes open as he passed through the sliding doors at the emergency room entrance for the Cattaloochie County Hospital. Jimmy felt a slight bump as the stretcher crossed into the building. People were walking everywhere, but someone had taken his glasses and everything looked fuzzy. He had a tube running from a bag on a pole into his left hand. He was rolled into a little room, and two men lifted him onto a bed. He heard a man’s voice speak.

  “He lost a lot of blood from the gash on his head. It was all over the cab of the truck.”

  A man came into view directly above him. He was wearing a white coat.

  “Let me take a look.”

  The man removed something from Jimmy’s head.

  “It’s still bleeding. Are his parents here yet?”

  “No,” a lady’s voice responded.

  The man in the white coat spoke. “Jimmy, I’m Dr. Pendergrass. I know your father from the country club. Can you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jimmy managed.

  “You have a cut on your head. I’m going to stitch it up so it can heal. But first, I’m going to give you a shot to numb the skin so it won’t hurt. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jimmy felt pressure on his head.

  “Where are my glasses?” he asked in a weak voice. “Did I break them?”

  “We’ll find them in a minute,” the lady’s voice answered. “You don’t need them right now.”

  Jimmy stared up toward the ceiling. He could hear the people rattling instruments and washing their hands.

  “This is going to sting,” Dr. Pendergrass said. “But then it will be numb.”

  There was another pause.

  “Hold him steady,” Dr. Pendergrass commanded.

  Jimmy felt hands on his head and both arms. Suddenly, streams of liquid fire seared through his scalp. He cried out.

  “That’s all,” Dr. Pendergrass said in a moment. “Shave and prep him.”

  Jimmy continued to whimper. The doctor leaned over close to his face.

  “That’s the bad part. We’re going to shave the hair away from the cut so I can do a neat job. Once your hair grows back, no one will know you’ve been in a car wreck.”

  Mention of the wreck caused images of Grandpa to flood Jimmy’s mind.

  “Grandpa,” he said. “Where’s my grandpa?”

  “He’s here at the hospital too,” Dr. Pendergrass answered. “Other doctors are taking care of him.”

  “I want to see him!” Jimmy said, trying to sit up. “I need to listen to his heart!”

  A hand gently pushed him back, and a soothing lady’s voice spoke.

  “The doctors taking care of him are listening to his heart. You need to lie still so you can be treated. That’s what your grandpa would want you to do.”

  Jimmy knew the woman was right, but he still wanted to see Grandpa. In a few seconds, he could feel someone doing something to his head, but it didn’t hurt. He closed his eyes. Dr. Pendergrass returned.

  “I’m going to stitch you up. You’ll feel pressure but no pain. It’s important that you lie still. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jimmy knew the doctor was touching his head, but it didn’t hurt. He tried not to move. His nose began to itch.

  “Can I scratch my nose?” he asked.

  “Yes, but don’t touch your head,” the doctor replied.

  Jimmy rubbed the bottom part of his nose un
til the itch was gone. Dr. Pendergrass continued working. Jimmy could hear snipping sounds.

  “That’s it,” the doctor said, speaking to someone Jimmy couldn’t see. “You can finish up.”

  Dr. Pendergrass came back into Jimmy’s line of sight.

  “You had a nasty cut on your head, but it’s all closed up and will heal fine. I’ll be sure to tell your father that you were a good patient.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “His manners are amazing,” the lady said. “I wish I could get my kids to be so polite.”

  The doctor left, and Jimmy closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he went to sleep, but the next thing he heard was the sound of Mama’s voice in the hallway.

  “Mama!” he called out weakly.

  “I’m here!” she said, rushing into the room.

  Her face filled his vision, and he relaxed.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, trying to smile.

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied. “We were eating breakfast at a restaurant and didn’t find out about the wreck until we returned home. How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know,” Jimmy answered. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “He and your grandma are with Grandpa.”

  Jimmy’s voice strengthened. He moved his legs toward the edge of the bed.

  “I want to see Grandpa!”

  Mama took his right hand in hers. “Lie down. You can’t. He’s in ICU.”

  “Where?”

  “The place they take very sick people. The doctor believes he had another heart attack. That’s why the truck ran off the road.”

  “Will they give him medicine?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’ll get better?”

  “We hope so.”

  Jimmy settled back into the bed. “Good. We won second place in the fishing contest, and he’s going to church with us tomorrow.”

  “That’s impossible,” Mama replied. “He’ll be in the hospital. It will take him a long time to get better.”

  “But he promised.”

  “He can’t make that decision. The doctors will let us know what he can do.”

  “Will you tell them about the promise?”

  “Yes.”

  Jimmy’s eyes became heavy. “I’m getting sleepy.”

  “The doctor may have given you something to help you rest. Don’t fight it. Relax. I’ll be here with you.”

  Jimmy drifted off again.

  HE AWOKE IN A DIFFERENT ROOM. MAMA WAS SITTING IN A chair beside his bed reading a book. He blinked and realized he had a pair of glasses on his face.

  “I can see better,” he said.

  “Good afternoon, sunshine,” Mama said, closing her book. “You’ve been taking a long nap. How do you feel?”

  “My head hurts a little bit.”

  “The doctors want to make sure you don’t have what’s called a concussion. They believe you’re going to be fine but wanted to examine you after you woke up. If you’re okay, then we’ll go home.”

  Jimmy touched the bandage covering the cut on his head.

  “That’s where you have stitches,” Mama said.

  Jimmy remembered the burning pain of the shots to his head.

  “It hurt, and I yelled.”

  “Don’t worry. Dr. Pendergrass told Daddy that you were a good patient.”

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  Mama scooted her chair close to the bed and touched Jimmy’s cheek. “Grandpa is very sick. Daddy and Grandma are staying near him all the time.”

  “Grandpa had a heart attack,” Jimmy said.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he taking his medicine?”

  “Yes, but there are some kinds of sickness that medicine can’t help.”

  Jimmy thought for a moment.

  “Did the beef jerky make him have a heart attack?”

  “No, it wasn’t caused by a stick of beef jerky.”

  “When can I see him?”

  “You need to rest and wait for the doctor.”

  Jimmy tried to sit up. “I want to see Grandpa!”

  “I know, but that can’t happen right now. You have to get better yourself.”

  “I’m okay. Where is he?”

  “In another part of the hospital. People can only visit him for a few minutes at a time.”

  “Why?”

  “So the doctors and nurses can do their job.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you about the fishing contest?”

  “No, he was sleeping, just like you.”

  A doctor came into the room. “The patient is awake!” he announced.

  “Yes, and we’re having a normal conversation,” Mama replied. “Jimmy, this is Dr. Dennard.”

  Mama moved away from the bed. The doctor shone a light in Jimmy’s eyes and asked him some easy questions.

  “Can you sit up on the edge of the bed?” he asked.

  Jimmy swung his legs off the bed and sat up.

  “Does that make you dizzy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You don’t have to call me ‘sir.’”

  “Don’t try to change him,” Mama said. “It’s deeper in his brain than even a neurologist can go.”

  Dr. Dennard smiled and asked Jimmy to get out of bed and move around. Jimmy stood up but couldn’t go far because of the tube attached to his hand. The doctor spoke to Mama.

  “The CT scan of his head didn’t reveal a concussion. I don’t see any neurological problems, so I’m going to release him. It should take an hour or so to process the paperwork. Let me know if he complains of severe headaches or nausea.”

  After the doctor left, Jimmy remained seated on the edge of the bed.

  “Can I see Grandpa before we go home?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. We’ll have to check with his doctors. They have a lot of fancy equipment in his room.”

  “I won’t touch anything.”

  “I know. Be patient. We’ll have to ask permission.”

  The door opened, and Daddy entered the room. He came over to Jimmy, sat beside him on the bed, and put his arm around his shoulders. His eyes looked sad.

  “Hello, son,” he said.

  Mama spoke. “The neurologist came by. There’s no sign of a concussion, so he’s going to discharge Jimmy this afternoon.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” Daddy said, then stopped. His voice sounded shaky as he continued. “You were in a bad wreck. It’s a good thing you were wearing your seat belt.”

  “Yes, sir. Grandpa had his on too. He wouldn’t wake up.”

  Daddy nodded. “I know. Pray for your grandpa. Everybody needs to pray for him.”

  AN HOUR LATER, JIMMY, DRESSED IN CLEAN CLOTHES, RODE in a wheelchair to the hospital entrance. Since he knew he could walk, the requirement that he ride in the wheelchair didn’t make much sense. It was a warm, humid afternoon with dark thunderclouds in the sky. The fishing contest seemed like it happened a long time ago.

  “Daddy talked to one of Grandpa’s doctors, and you may be able to see him tomorrow,” Mama said.

  “What about going to church? He promised.”

  “No, he’s too sick.”

  “I’ll pray about that too.”

  Mama didn’t answer.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, JIMMY GOT UP WITHOUT BEING asked and put on his Sunday clothes. It was promotion Sunday, and Jimmy’s age group was slated to move into the class taught by Mr. Robinson. Mama was in the kitchen when he came downstairs.

  “Did you call the hospital to see if Grandpa can come to church?” he asked.

  “No. Your grandpa is still sleeping. Let me see your head.”

  While Mama inspected his bandage, Jimmy spoke.

  “They need to wake him up so he can get dressed.”

  “No, Jimmy. Your daddy went to the hospital early this morning. We talked a few minutes ago. Grandpa is still too sick to go anywhere today.”

  Jimmy’s face fell.
“I prayed that he’d be better.”

  Mama gave him a hug.

  “He’s alive, Jimmy. That’s the answer to our prayers.”

  She released Jimmy from her arms.

  “I still want to go to church,” he said.

  “Does your head hurt?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Mama looked at the clock. “Okay. I’ll get ready and take you.”

  IT SEEMED ODD DRIVING TO CHURCH WITHOUT DADDY. JIMMY held her hand as they walked toward the educational building.

  “I talked to your daddy, and we’ll go to the hospital to see Grandpa at two o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Will he be awake?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They entered the educational building.

  “Do you know which classroom to go to?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The bandage on Jimmy’s head raised more questions in Sunday school than Max’s black eye did when he was in the sixth grade. Jimmy tried to smile when Max told him that he would make an awesome pirate, but his heart was heavy with thoughts of Grandpa. Other children tried to pry out details of the wreck and Jimmy’s escape from the vehicle.

  “Didn’t the truck flip all the way over and land right-side up?” Denise asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What was it like when it was rolling—”

  Mr. Robinson called the group to order.

  “Before I welcome all of you to the class, I want us to pray for Jimmy’s grandfather.”

  Jimmy bowed his head, but instead of praying, he felt tears rush to his eyes. In the light of a new day, the shock of the accident faded, but the depth of feeling he carried for Grandpa could not be silenced. Jimmy sniffled, rubbed his eyes, and, not wanting to be embarrassed, hoped the judge would pray a long prayer. Too soon, the judge said, “Amen.” Jimmy kept his right hand over his eyes for a few seconds and then blew his nose on his handkerchief.

  Mr. Robinson began the lesson, but Jimmy didn’t listen. He couldn’t think about anything or anyone except Grandpa. The aching desire to put his head on Grandpa’s chest and listen to his heart was more than he could bear. Several times during the fifty-minute class, tears welled up in Jimmy’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He gave up trying to hide his feelings but managed to sit still as the tears fell from his face into his lap. Jimmy didn’t know if Grandpa’s heart was okay. His own heart was breaking.