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Thirty minutes later, I slammed the car into a spot and killed the engine; I ran into the ER, yelling “Where is she?”
The nurse behind the intake window looked up. “Sir, who are you looking for?”
I told her about Liv and the nurse frantically searched their database. “She’s not registered here.”
Seeing that I was at the edge of sanity, and the fact I’d suffered injuries that needed to be looked at, the nurse calmlysaid “Let me make some calls and see where she’s been taken. Can we look at your wounds while I do that?”
My eyes on fire and glazed over, I spit out pure venom. “No, find her!”
The nurse made several calls and discovered she’d been taken to Fawcett Memorial in Punta Gorda. With that information, I ran to the car and blew through all the traffic lights on Route 41 until I reached Fawcett.
I ran in again and asked where Liv was and the nurse who had aided her came out and walked me over to a seat. As she sat with me, I put my head in my hands and as I shook, the nurse explained. “I’m Nurse Robins; I helped the ER doctors with your girlfriend. She’s in bad shape and has suffered significant wounds, lost a lot of blood–not to mention she’d almost drowned, so her lungs were full of water. She’s in the operating room now, while they try to stop the bleeding and repair the wounds. I won’t sugarcoat it, it’s bad. We’ll know more once the doctors come out. If I don’t get an update within two hours, I’ll call back to the OR and try to get you an update. Can I help clean your wounds up?”
I was in a daze at that point. I rejected any help from the hospital as I sat there trying to figure out what to do next. I took out my cell phone and reached out to Elliot, because I couldn’t text her friend with this news. I had to tell him over the phone.
El picked up his phone on the third ring and said, “Hey, Parks, how’s your fishing trip going?”
I cleared my throat and tried to speak, with a cracking voice: “There’s been an accident.” I cleared my throat again and added a cough. I went on. “Elliot, it’s bad. She was pulled intothe water by a Hammerhead. She’s in surgery now, and I know you’re the first person she’ll want to see when she wakes up.”
El told me he’d be there in ten minutes. I could tell by his voice that Elliot was shaken up, and rightfully so.
Next, I called my mom, who cried with me as I told her the news. Then, drained mentally and physically, I couldn’t get the scene out of my head. I pounded a fist on my thigh with anguish at not being with her the entire time.What if she doesn’t make it?That would kill me, I thought. It was all my fucking fault. I allowed the love of my life to get mauled.
Within half an hour Elliot, Anthony, Martha, Brett, and I occupied the hospital’s OR waiting room.
It didn’t take long for the word to get out about the accident. Some of Liv’s local fans appeared but were not allowed to stay in the OR waiting room, nor were the reporters started to line up to live feed any news. They did allow her agent, Sabrina, to come in and sit with the family.
I knew I looked awful. My mom was concerned about me as she walked over to sit beside me. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying as she took my hand. “Parks, she’s going to be fine. She’ll need you when this is all over with. You need to take care of your wounds, shower, and put fresh clothes on.”
Although I loved my mom fiercely, I looked at her with daggers in my own swollen, bloodshot eyes. With a clenched jaw I spoke, low and direct: “I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay. My wounds are all superficial, and I’ll be fine.”
My mother knew her son, and she patted the top of my hand, gave me a quick look, and returned to my father’s side.The wait was grueling; no one spoke, and there was an eerie presence in the room as we sat there.
Ten hours of pacing later, the doctor entered the waiting area. I stood at once. “Doc, how is she? Will she be, okay?”
All eyes darted toward the doctor as we awaited his response, and the doctor ran his hands through his hair as he spoke. “She’s out of surgery; she has sustained some serious wounds, lost a lot of blood, and her lungs were full of water. We were able to drain most of the water from her lungs and gave her a couple of blood transfusions. She has seventeen stitches vertically on her face.” The doctor took a breath while I processed what he was saying. “Her right leg has a chunk out of it; we did some grafts and put approximately two hundred and fifteen stitches there. Her left shoulder was out of its socket, which we popped back in. There was also a chunk of flesh taken from her arm. We could only stitch it up, as there was nowhere else to draw grafts from without causing more scarring to other parts of her body. The face laceration was from the shark’s tail; she’s lucky it was his tail and not his teeth. She has weeks of recovery in-house, and months of recovery once she’s released. She will make it, but I’ll be honest here: it has disfigured her.”
The more the doctor spoke, the less I could hear. It was as if I was losing my hearing as I entered a tunnel within my mind. I sat in fear that I would pass out.
Elliot took over and asked the doctor when they could see her. The doctor told them she was in recovery and should be back in a room within the hour. He then thanked everyone and left to deal with a page he received.
The mood was one of shock as everyone processed in their way what the doctor had told them.
I sat there like a statue in a daze, looking into space with glazed-over eyes. My brain kept replaying that first picture of her smiling from ear to ear, jumping up and down with excitement as she held the Tarpon.
The second picture I couldn’t get from my mind was seeing the shark jump up and pull her over the side of the boat. It all happened so fast. I blamed myself and was ashamed to the core. I should have been able to do more; I shouldn’t have left her side for one second after the accident; I should have been beside her.
Devastation and the reality of the situation made my heart plummet and my soul ache. She wouldn’t want to see the person who ruined her life, her beauty, and her career. The realization hit hard, as if a building had collapsed on me.
An hour later, her hospital room was packed: my parents, her best friend, and his lover, along with nurses keeping high alert on her monitors and stats. I stood in the corner, at the back of the small room. Tears threatened to spill over as I shook with the relief that she’d be okay. Looking at everyone’s back as they spoke to her, I knew she’d not want to see me and quietly slipped out of the door.
I drove home in zombie mode; I couldn’t even recall driving or how I’d gotten home. Unlocking the door, I opened it to Simba, who sat there as if he knew a tragedy had just happened.
Parker
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads. Henry David Thoreau
I unraveled as realization hit me and I lost all control. I grabbed a golf club from its bag and started destroying my house. I screamed and cried, saying her name and how sorry I was. I broke the TVs as I spun out of control. I saw nothing but red, eaten alive by anger and guilt; I couldn’t take anymore.
