Long Shots

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN ERIC CLARK
Typically, when you read this column, my comrade Joe Kleinsasser or I write about sports of one kind or another. We express opinions on the latest “controversy” in athletics, or a positive or negative local athletic-related story.

Forgive me if I don’t offer such a morsel to feed you sports enthusiasts this week. Instead, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank some local heroes who treated a very scary event with class and professionalism.

This Saturday my wife, mother-in-law and sister-in-law were involved in what could be considered a severe fender-bender on U.S. Highway 56. It also could have been fatal.

The three walked away virtually unscathed-a few bruises, some cuts and one broken rib between them. Thankfully, all three are feeling well despite some discomfort.

And from what we’ve learned, the other driver is also recovering well.

After the accident occurred, some of the witnesses at the scene said things looked pretty grim.

I received a phone call at about 2:30 p.m. from a frantic family member, who said my wife and her family members had been in an accident. My heart sank.

To most people it was just another crash that occurred on a busier than normal day. Many of us have probably passed by with little or no regard for the accidents on the road. I know I have. But after Saturday, my attention to highway accidents has been heightened considerably.

After discussing which hospital they would be taking the women to, my father-in-law and I jumped into our truck and headed to St. Luke Hospital.

When I saw my wife for the first time since the accident, she was sitting in a wheelchair in the St. Luke emergency room. A fat upper lip, some bruises, a few broken blood vessels in her eyes and a tearful hug told the story of what had transpired in those few desperate seconds.

With my right shoulder still warm and wet from the tears, I turned my head and saw an unfamiliar face. I later learned it was Steve Smith, an emergency medical technician, who, according to my wife, didn’t leave her side from the time they strapped her to the gurney until she was pronounced fit to leave the hospital.

The night before, Steve and I had sat in the same locker room, after his son, Tyler, and Tyler’s Marion football teammates lost to Sacred Heart. Unfortunately, at that point, we had never met.

On that night, he was a son’s biggest fan and I was merely a reporter. Our paths wouldn’t cross again until the following afternoon, when I became a concerned husband and he helped lead a band of local heroes.

For Steve and the rest of the Marion EMT staff, Saturday was probably just another day on the job. But for me it was terrifying.

After learning the trio was doing well, and hearing about the selfless acts that had occurred at both the crash site and the emergency room by the EMT crew and St. Luke Hospital staff, my terror quickly turned into gratitude.

I’ve come to realize in the past couple of years there are a three basic loves in my life: No. 1 is God, No. 2 is my wife, and No. 3 is my family.

Saturday may have been a routine day for all of you, but I wanted to say thanks for helping preserve the No. 2 and No. 3 things in my life. You can be sure I’m going to be talking to No. 1 about taking care of each of you.

God bless you.

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