Selah in the Storm: Turning the Winds of Trauma

By Captain Ana Donovitch and Dr P. Richard Verbeek

From the deck of a sun-kissed sailboat off the coast of the Florida Keys, to the fluorescent-lit hallways of the trauma unit, this true story takes you on a suspenseful adventure of a husband and wife team as they leave everything to pursue their dreams of a sailing school. In the moments of a sunset, TRAUMA hits them not at sea, but on the cora

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Academy Elite
• Release date: Oct 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781946114372

Captain Ana Donovitch

Ana Donovitch's desire is to help others connect to the whispers of their souls. In our fast moving world, she believes people need more time to "Selah," to pause, reflect and honor their aspirations. Her teaching career has impacted leaders, managers, and employees at corporations and non-profits. Through her writing and coaching, she has created learning moments for many on land and sea.

Book preview

ENDORSEMENTS

Selah in the Storm—a sailors’ odyssey that tugs at your heart to understand that life can change on a dime. Captains Ana and Bob discover that turbulence can be worse on land than on the sea. Charting a course on water can be difficult, but navigating the medical system on land—nearly impossible. This is a story of survival, perseverance, and resilience; and that faith, hope and love chart the path to healing.

–Shed Boren, LCSW, PhD

President and CEO

Camillus House and Health

Miami, Florida

You will have trouble putting the book down! Ana has captured the horror and fear of a sudden injury to a loved one. Bob and her story is one of love, faith and hope."

–Martha Nield

Vice Chair Board of Directors, BIAMI

(Wife of a man who suffered a near fatal carbon monoxide exposure in 2011)

The ultimate goal of anyone going through a brain injury (or any other traumatic event) is finding peace with their new you. That might include finding a new passion or finding a way to return to your old passion with new limitations. Selah in the Storm provides needed encouragement to help anyone get through the tough storms and eventually move forward with their new life.

–Kathie Sell

Information and Resources

Brain Injury Association of Michigan

An honest depiction of the strength, faith and courage it takes stay afloat after an unthinkable tragedy. This story will challenge and encourage all those who are desperately clinging to hope that healing is possible.

–Heather Hendry, LMHC

Wellspring Counseling, Inc.

Miami, Florida

This is the story of two lives. How they were designed, united, imagined and ultimately lived. A story of courage and perseverance under challenge, of love pushing past the unknown. A story of faith, even though questioned, bringing these two sailing mates through the biggest storm of their lives. A must read for anyone who has ever faced an unexpected twist in their well-laid plans.

–Edith Wysocki

Occupational Therapist

Detroit, Michigan

Wow. What a read! What made Bob and Ana such an asset to our company, is exactly what has enabled them to weather this severe storm of life. Their compassion, humor, authenticity, attitude and love for one another and for sailing is infectious and inspiring. They made everyone around them feel more at ease, more confident about their sailing skills... and they made them smile, which that alone, is a powerful gift. In the end, these gifts and their extensive ‘time on the water and at the helm’ is what has enabled them to navigate unknown rough waters and come out the other side of this storm called trauma.

–Dave & Kristen Conrad

Great Lakes Sailing Co.

Traverse City, Michigan

Here is the amazing narrative of one couple’s unexpected journey from a fulfilling life of sailing to the strange world of the ICU and beyond. In a well-written, gripping recounting we see how focus, endurance and problem solving, all skills that are inherent to sailing, helped Captains Ana and Bob navigate and survive the medical and legal issues they faced. This is a deeply personal story that demonstrates how strength, perseverance, friendship and faith can overcome some of the most difficult challenges life can throw at you.

–Captains Margie & Harold Ochstein

Island Dreamer Sailing

Miami, Florida

Ana’s story takes me back to the week before the American Sailing Association’s (ASA) site visit to inspect the boat and marina, their name—Couples Sailing School—so appropriate. I sorted the photos of the tiki hut and the beautiful harbor in the keys. Trauma struck that weekend. It was then we learned about Ana and Bob’s talents, not just as sailing captains, but as a couple. Selah in the Storm tells their fascinating story. My heart goes with them as they sail on.

–Brenda Wempner

Program Development

American Sailing Association

Anyone who has suffered from trauma can identify with Ana’s search for meaning in the cruel events that seared her very soul. In an instant Ana and Bob lost most everything—their way of life, home, business, and income. They had only each other. In the end, that is all that mattered.

–Captain David Taylor

American Youth Hostels

Detroit Sailing Program

SELAH

IN THE

STORM

Turning the Winds of Trauma

CAPTAIN ANA DONOVITCH

Selah In The Storm

Copyright © 2016 Ana Donovitch

All Rights Reserved

Author Academy Elite

P.O. Box 43

Powell, OH 43035

www.AuthorAcademyElite.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Printed in the United States of America

2016 First Printing

ISBN 978-1-943526-63-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-943526-62-8 (Hard Cover)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016911217

Author Academy Elite, Powell, OH

Cover Design and Chapter Graphics: Teddi Black

www.teddiblack.com

Author Photo: Shirley Abraham

DEDICATION

To my three dear friends, Elfie, Greg, and Roger, who have left us too soon—whose spirits remind us that life here on earth is short, and to live it to the full.

And to those courageous individuals and family members who have been devastated by trauma and its carnage. May you turn the winds, fill your sails, and rise above the clouds to see clear skies, fresh choices,

and a new dream.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword

A Note to Reader

Chapter 1—Breathe

Chapter 2—Lift Off

Chapter 3—On the Rocks

Chapter 4—Justice?

Chapter 5—Bullets

Chapter 6—Divorce Recovery

Chapter 7—War Zone

Chapter 8—E-Angels

Chapter 9—Tying Knots

Chapter 10—In the Bag

Chapter 11—On the Water’s Edge

Chapter 12—Midwesterly Academics

Chapter 13—Doctor Affairs

Chapter 14—Sharks and Pizza

Chapter 15—Toasting the Dream

Chapter 16—Holy Daze

Chapter 17—The Pits

Chapter 18—Cutting the Dock Lines

Chapter 19—Fighting Dinosaurs

Chapter 20—Rowing Harder

Chapter 21—Mitten Whirlwind

Chapter 22—Persevere

Chapter 23—Land of Oz

Chapter 24—Freeze, or Moonshot?

Chapter 25—The Midwest Bubble

Chapter 26—Heart Beats

Chapter 27—Docs On Board

Chapter 28—Bogus Fact Finding

Chapter 29—Unscrabbling

Chapter 30—Selah’s Splash

Chapter 31—Reunion Galas

Chapter 32—Waves of Carnage

Chapter 33—Sleigh Ride Home

Chapter 34—Setting Selah Free

Appendix A Selah’s Lessons Learned

Appendix B The Rogue Wave

Appendix C Log Book—Notes From My Captain

Appendix D Additional Resources

Appendix E Sailors Lingo

End Notes

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Share Your Thoughts

FOREWORD

Severe TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) – something you never want to hear has happened to a close friend or loved one and something you don’t want to happen to you. Did you know that 138 people die every day in the United States from injuries that include TBI? That’s over 50,000 people per year.

I know about severe TBI. Explaining it to families it is part of my daily job as a veteran emergency physician in one of North America’s busiest trauma units. It’s a very professional thing and though I can feel the horror and pain of those who are receiving the news, I also know I can walk away from it at the end of the day. I was able to walk away from it for over 25 years until one day I received a phone call from Ana – Bob was hit by a car and has had a severe traumatic brain injury. My gut wrenched, I lost my breath and I felt like I was about to drop to the floor. I knew I could walk away no longer.

I had known Ana and Bob for only 4 years. I met them in 2012 on one of their many sailing charters they gave in the Florida Keys before Bob had his TBI. My best friend Tony and I are die-hard sailors and spend many an hour conjuring up ways to maximize our sailing time, preferably in warm places. The instructional course was actually for Tony’s wife, Gail, and her friend Linda but we saw it as an opportunity to tag along and enjoy some sailing time in the Keys.

By the end of the week, we were so impressed with Bob and Ana that Tony came up with the outlandish idea we could buy a boat similar to theirs and maybe, just maybe, do something cooperatively with them. Fast forward many engaging discussions over the ensuing 12 months and we ended up with our own forty two foot Catalina sailboat berthed just north of Milwaukee and about to be hauled by land transport to the Keys in early November 2013. We truly had dreams of sailing grandeur and spending many a pleasant evening at anchor as a two-boat fleet with Bob and Ana on Selah. Two weeks before these dreams were supposed to come true I heard from Ana about what had happened to Bob. I knew immediately the dream had ended before it had even started.

Sailing is many things—a simple pastime, a high level sport, a lifestyle and a way of being. Sailing is how the world came to be discovered. Because of this there are many sailing metaphors than cast a lens on daily living. One of the most common goes something like this—you can’t change how the winds of life blow but you can always trim your sails and head off in a different direction. But what do you do when the winds of life hit you with the force of a Category 5 hurricane that you couldn’t see coming? What do you do when your sails are in tatters and completely shredded and are of no use to you? Well, that is when you throw out the drogue (look that one up in Ana’s sailing lingo and resources at the back of this book); then you go below into the cabin, batten down the hatches, pray perhaps, and hunker down to ride out the storm. This is what Ana and Bob had to do.

Ana told me she was writing this book. The end result was a surprise. The story Ana tells of herself and her soulmate Bob is a tapestry, at times whimsical about the sailing life and what was, blended with the searing reality of what happens when all this falls apart in an instant. The interplay between these reveals a stark contrast that builds you up, then sinks your soul over and over again. It is not a story for the faint hearted, but reading it will show you what it means to have true courage. Ana, somehow during her raging storm, manages to tell a story that combines all this with a sense of suspense, creativity and even at times, humor. It paints a personal reality that is played out time and time again across this country.

Imagine emerging from a coma, enduring multiple surgeries and complications, having to learn to walk, read, talk, recognize, think, and love all over again. Imagine not knowing if your loved one would live and if they do, what life would be like—having to give endlessly, and yes, having to learn to love all over again. Imagine—the police, the lawyers, the endless doctors and rehab appointments, the insurance agents, the loss of a dream, the loss of income, the loss in having to give up your dream. Imagine losing what was your life.

I find it remarkable how Ana has been able to capture the fine details of events and even conversations through this ordeal. In doing so, Ana has, unknown to her, captured in living detail the emergence of a man from a deep coma after severe TBI. She amply reveals how her passage was not a one-person affair. Trauma ripples and radiates to families, friends, and workers. Her story calls out to those who are seeking direction for their own stormy dilemma. To me as a medical professional, it is fascinating; to me as a friend, it brings tears.

As for the boat Tony and I bought, she made it to the Keys and rests in exactly the same berth that Selah had to give up. Needless to say, we have had to re-trim our sails with the change in wind direction we experienced. Although, we miss having Selah with us, we remain close friends with Bob and Ana.

Professionally, Bob and Ana’s ordeal inspired me to participate as a medical investigator in a clinical study to test a drug than shows promise in decreasing neurological damage if given very soon after sustaining a severe TBI. While I know it will never help Bob, I simply could not walk away from what happened. I needed to find some way to help.

Selah in the Storm replays a remarkable journey of resolve, resilience, despair, never giving up, a shaken but never broken faith, and an emerging triumph that will continue to evolve for years to come. From this, I hope you will take away one or two of the life’s lessons about how one couple managed to prevail over severe TBI. These lessons aren’t just for TBI. They are universal.

Dr. P. Richard Verbeek

Emergency Physician

Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre

Toronto, Ontario

A NOTE TO THE READER

My husband Bob and I were on our way to livin’ the dream. Most of the time living aboard our forty-two foot sailboat named Selah was simply fabulous. After three years of preparations and leaving suburbia, our charter and sailing school business in the Keys was wildly successful. Many worldwide seasoned sailors, racers, and novices came to share the adventure of sailing with us. Our times together averaged a week or more, long enough onboard to build a team of sailors; and inevitably an opportunity to discover one another’s inner strengths, dreams, and annoying habits. Four years into living our new life, an unforeseen ugly storm hit us.

In the fall of 2013, this storm carried us on a tidal wave we never expected. Devastating winds of change would engulf and drag us from our anchor to a long far-reaching odyssey. Trauma shattered every aspect of life as we knew it—our marriage, charter business, a place to live, and our abilities to function.

Months later I began to gather sailing logs, journals and emails to compose a cathartic writing. My healing began; I was encouraged to share with others who could learn from our chronicles of trauma. My preference was to portray the writer’s point of view in third person; in truth, my heart just couldn’t handle the rawness of intimate details written in first person.

The story is true; all names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. For help with understanding a sailing term, turn to the back appendix Sailors Lingo to stretch your status from landlubber to active crew member. The last sections of the book include relevant materials — personal lessons learned, along with practical resources for trauma victims and caregivers.

Why would I choose to write such a book? Two months after the first trauma smacked us down, I felt a spiritual push during the holiday season.

As I drove in downtown Miami, an unfamiliar cheery song blasted this refrain. At first, the catchy rhythm made me smile.

"I’m an open book.

Write Your story on my heart…

Let me be Your work of art."

The melody kept circling and circling. I forged ahead in traffic and glanced up—a battered woman stared back at me from the rearview mirror. The song blared again:

Let me be Your work of art.

Art? I definitely didn’t feel like a work of art, but more like a total wreck, a frantic woman unable to cope. I veered to a side street, pressed my foot hard on the brake pedal and began yelling—yes, yelling at God.

I hate this story! I began to sob. I do not want a story like this. Dammit. Do you hear me, God? I don’t like this… this...

Tears rolled off my chin. I rested my forehead on the wheel.

I feel helpless. Dear God, I cannot do this. Please. I do NOT want this story written on MY heart. Give it to someone else! I can’t do this.

It was quiet. For a few tense minutes, I sat and waited. And then I felt His words in my heart.

YES ANA, IT IS OUT OF YOUR CONTROL. DEFINITELY OUT OF YOUR CONTROL. BUT DEARIE, IT IS YOUR STORY. I’M GIVING YOU—THIS STORY.

SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE, THE PAIN, THE HEARTACHE, BUT IT IS YOUR STORY AND IT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN ON YOUR HEART. SO WRITE IT, DEAR ONE. I’M SURE YOU’LL DO A GREAT JOB, WITH MY HELP.

Eyes closed and more tears running down my cheeks, my hands gripped the steering wheel. My story was going to be written whether I liked it or not.

Months later I googled the refrain I heard that day. The indelible message was the song Write Your Story by the talented Francesca Battistelli. My heart, and my perspective, had been changed that day. This is my story—the crests and the troughs, the humor and heartache, how to change your life, how to set a course that fulfills, and how to stay afloat during difficult times.

Come along with me. You may want to grab your binoculars, take stock of your season, check your compass heading, and consider a truth unknown to many. Choices do exist even amidst the storms of life.

If my words pull you in, then grab your life jacket, step aboard, and we’ll cast off.

The adventure awaits.

/ˈsiːlə, Selah/; Hebrew: סֶלָה‎, Selah

Exclamation used in the Hebrew Bible.

1. Pause and reflect

2. Examine and value

3. A musical interlude, or rest

Chapter 1—Breathe

If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.

–Lucius Seneca

Sunday, November 16, 2014 1:55 PM

Blue Waters Marina

Key Largo, Florida

The past hovered at the marina in a mist. Visibility was diminished, much like a morning fog in need of a brisk breeze. Captain Ana and the three-member crew readied the vessel to sail and released the dock lines at Captain Bob’s command. In unfathomed depths of pain and joy, Bob and Ana had agreed to navigate cautiously, their protective senses heightened, their adrenalin fired up.

The sailboat in slip seven had been their home for the past five years, a well-designed forty-two-foot Catalina equipped for cruising the saltwaters of a sailor’s dream. The hull still had her sheen and crisp markings of marine-blue pin stripes and her quarter rest Selah insignia both at the bow and stern. Three large solar panels topped the bimini; the sail covers now stored below and the mainsail ready to raise; the deck washed clean from the previous night’s tropical rain.

Selah’s engine gurgled and bubbled in reverse as Captain Bob backed her out of the dock; he shifted the controls and Selah surged forward to exit the turning basin and head down the canal. Their Canadian buddies, Ted, Gwen, and Ricardo, sat in the cockpit, the crew for Selah’s farewell voyage. Ana stood at her regular place on the bow, the designated lookout as they skimmed toward the turns ahead. Her hand rubbed the smooth sides of the brass horn that she would blow as they maneuvered around the ninety-degree turns. It all felt completely normal, like they were heading out on another weekly charter, Ana’s favorite part—leaving all the land problems back at the marina. Her mind snapped back to the present. It’s different. It’d been a long time since the three of them had sailed together; Selah, Bob, and Ana had been landlocked for over a year. Captain Bob stood just like he always stood, relaxed at the wheel, a little to one side, poised for a better view, a confident stance, ready for any sudden surprises.

Ana mentally took a photo from the bow looking back at Bob smiling at her. Oh, how Selah had been a good home—seen them through so many tight times and rough storms, she had proved her strength. And elegant she was, like a sleek thoroughbred ready to run. This sailing day was another special spiritual blessing.

So many memories ran through Ana’s mind—the fear in their clients’ eyes as they headed out the canal, the anticipation of an adventure, maybe a storm, perhaps the delightful sightings of the dolphins. Sailing was a faith-building experience for many; Ana and Bob knew that firsthand. They had averaged over a hundred sailing days each year, lots of faith-building.

Saturday, October 26, 2013 7:55 PM

Mariner’s Hospital

Key Largo, Florida

Breathing was nearly impossible. Ana numbly followed the nurse into the ER, the room a blur of white tile and the unmistakable smell of antiseptic. Panicked, she froze, staring at the intense surreal setting before her. She wanted to run away but knew in her heart she had no choice. The admitting receptionist had just informed her that her husband had been able to recite his social security number. Oh my God. Really? Was he really conscious and coherent enough to recall anything, let alone his social security number? She envisioned his unconscious body crumpled at the side of the road. Voices jerked her back to the present.

The gurney was positioned in the middle of the room; Bob’s damaged head was turned toward the far wall. The bedrails circled his body; IVs intertwined to both arms. A nurse stood on the opposite side of the bed leaning over Bob’s face. His arms flailed, and the nurse quickly restrained his hands. The stiff cervical collar around his neck was obviously too small. He desperately pleaded with her, Can you take this off…this collar is killing me. Take it off! His contorted face begged for relief.

Ana stepped closer to the bed and leaned in over the steel bar. The white turban on her husband’s head was blotched with bright red. Sweat beads trickled into the wrinkles above his eyebrows. A medicinal smell rose from the bed sheets as the nurse continued to hold his wrists. His pale face was spotted with dark scrapes where the coral gravel had invaded. Bob rolled his head from side to side, oblivious to the restraints; his right eyelid ballooned out of its socket, purplish and swollen shut; his left eye followed an unseen exhibition in the air.

It’s me, Bob. I’m here, honey. They’re going to help you soon. Hang in there…please hang in there…

Ana peered up at the nurse who had backed away. Have you given him anything for pain?

No, we’re waiting on doctor’s orders for morphine, replied the nurse. Would you mind staying with him? Try to keep him calm and conscious. I’ll be right back. She disappeared through the hallway door.

Ana glanced down just in time to grab Bob’s forearms, preventing him from ripping off his collar. Honey, you have to leave that on. It’s supporting your neck.

His deformed face winced and contorted. Terrified, he cried out, I’ve got to get this off, it’s killing me. Just get this damn collar off!

Please Bob, just breathe. Breathe, please. Hang on, they’re coming with pain meds which will help. Just hang in there. Please baby, just hang on.

Bob’s one workable eye darted to the corners of the ceiling. Ana gripped his forearms—the struggle to defend the collar continued with her pleading. Bob became increasingly agitated. The conversation repeated itself over and over again. Ana peeked over her left shoulder to see if anyone was out in the hall but there was no one in sight. What seemed like hours had only been minutes; she wondered where the pain relief was. Dear God, please help him. Please help him!

She leaned over Bob again. He yelled, Stop. Stop. You! You over there. Man the portside, and you—you get below, and you there, grab that line and stand by. Get your life preserver on NOW! Do it! Bob was in another world, envisioning a full-blown marine disaster; the vessel at sea in trouble, and the Captain was in command.

Bob suddenly broke free, hands gripping the collar. In an instant, he ripped it off. Ana captured his arms again and positioned herself over him, realizing she was not strong enough. Captain, she cried, stay still, hold on. Please hold still!

She let go and rushed out into the hall. No one was in sight. She ran around the corner and saw a nurse walking in the opposite direction.

Stop, stop! Please, Nurse. Ana ran up to the woman and grabbed her wrist. For God’s sake, I need you to come with me now! My husband needs help!

8:15 PM

Ana slouched on the waiting room bench, her bottom on the edge of the seat, her head tilted back on the wall behind her, eyes closed with her blonde hair wildly disheveled around her strained face. Her body stayed motionless, with the exception of the sporadic rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe deeply. Dark red streaks ran down her shin from the cuts on her knee; matching stains had spattered the sandals on her feet. Her shoulders twitched, bright scarlet tarnished the front side of her white shirt.

Across the room, a young couple paced with their infant. The little one fussed, sweaty and red in the face, and the mother tried to comfort the child. The baby’s loud cry and the smell of disinfectant were strong enough to shake Ana awake. She opened her eyes and squinted across the room. A receptionist appeared with a blanket and handed it to Ana along with a Styrofoam cup full of something hot. The welcomed warmth calmed her for a few moments, but distress returned.

Is this for real? Another deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. I want to wake up now, her mind insisted. I really do want to wake up.

She didn’t know what to do, who to call, or what was going to happen next. Even worse, she couldn’t recall her close friend’s surname in order to call her for help. Tea spilled on her thighs. She leaned back and closed her eyes again. Maybe soon, I’ll wake up from this nightmare—

The receptionist appeared again. Do you want to call someone?

Her mind raced to recall friends who might be in the area. Cheri and Pete? Kaitlin and Jay? Jack? What a time to forget my phone, no phone numbers. Dang, I can’t even remember their last names.

Ana shook her head. I don’t have a phone.

The receptionist comforted her with a sympathetic look. Who takes time to learn numbers when they’re already in your phone, right?

Ana grimaced.

Come with me. Maybe this’ll help.

The two of them walked into a side office. You’re free to use the phone and the computer if you’d like.

The place resembled a messy closet, a catchall for neglected items. Numerous manila folders stacked in piles mingled with leftover food wrappers and coffee cups. Ana pushed one of the chairs over to the computer.

Her fingers clicked hurriedly on the keyboard. The sluggish computer responded too slowly for her nervous hands. Damn. Here I am, asking a computer for the names of my friends?

She pecked the keyboard again. Her eyes scanned for familiar last names and telephone numbers. Come on, come on—think—get a grip—you’ve got to calm down and think. Dear Lord, You’ve got to help me big time. An Angel, right now, please. Send someone to help, or relieve me. Hey, I want to go home now.

Several minutes passed before she finally located two phone numbers. She groped through the disarray, grabbed a pen and paper to jot down the information. The office phone peeked out from under the clutter and she punched in the first set of numbers. She clenched her jaw, teeth pressed hard on her lower lip. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz, bzzz! Ana’s expression hardened; she waited, alone.

Chapter 2—Lift Off

What used to be a tailwind is now a headwind - you have to lean into that and figure out what to do because complaining isn’t a strategy.

–Jeff Bezos

October 26, 2013 8:25 PM

Mariner’s Hospital,

Key Largo, Florida

Excuse me. Robert Donovitch is my husband. Can you tell me what’s the plan for him?

The ER doctor on duty behind the counter frowned and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

Plan? What plan? I don’t have a plan at this point! There’s a line-up for CTs and… look, I’ll give you a plan when I get the CT results. He looked at the papers on the desk, then scowled at the computer screen.

Ana stared at the man’s face and silently replied in her head. What the hell—who is the one with a plan? You’re the one in the white coat. You think you’re having a rough day? Try changing places with my husband. She gave up and walked slowly down the hall.

Ana crumbled into the nearest chair against the wall. She closed her eyes once more and listened to the beeping tones, the sounds of rubber soles walking briskly by her, whispers, more beeping tones, and then a thud. She sat up quickly. The double doors parted, and in walked her friends from church. Ana’s face lit up. It’s Cheri and Pete. They must have dropped everything after hearing my voicemail. She ran to Cheri’s extended arms. Their long embrace continued until Cheri pulled away, her hands resting on Ana’s trembling shoulders.

Are you OK? We came as soon as we could, Cheri pulled her close again.

Ana struggled to take a deep breath. I can’t believe this is happening. Thank God you’re here!

Moments later, another couple walked through the door eager to comfort her. Kaitlin and Jay, also from church, had heard news of the crash from Cheri. Questions flew back and forth in the group. After five minutes, Ana decided to head back to the cranky ER doctor to ask about the CT results. A nurse intercepted Ana with an up-to-date message.

"The doctor has ordered an airlift for your husband. It will be here in about ten minutes. He has multiple head fractures. They are calling the