So much has happened since my mother’s heart attack three weeks ago: long days of tests, Father’s hospital admittance for chest pain and 14 days of assisted living for both of my parents. Then, more doctors’ visits. With trips to my folks' hometown three hours away and medical services another hour -- one way -- the effort to cover the bases of work and family has been exhausting.
This is why I like to look past all the subsequent hurdles, back to my father’s miracle … and to the deeds of a Good Samaritan on the night it all began.
One of the First Responders to Father’s early morning 911 call lived a few blocks away in this rural town of 400. In the past Jerry had purchased apples from my parents’ orchard ... deals negotiated by Dad. I use the term negotiated loosely. Not one for haggling, my father typically suggested, “pay me what you think they’re worth.” Sometimes he would further direct his customers to “leave the money on the kitchen table.” On this occasion, however, while preparing Mom for ambulance transportation to the hospital, Jerry recognized that although Dad had performed admirably up to this point, by now he was clearly rattled. He was in no shape to drive. On a good day, my father is now easily confused. And this was not a good day. To ensure Dad’s safe arrival at the medical center 20 miles away, Jerry arranged a ride for him, calling his son out of bed to drive Dad’s car.
After doctors at the small country hospital zapped my mother’s heart rate down to a manageable beat, it was determined that she needed additional cardiac care … at a second hospital an hour away. Jerry insisted that Dad notify my older sister. Insisted that he and his son would drive my father, but -- as Jerry relayed the story later -- somehow my father slipped out of the hospital without him, walker and all.
Jerry knew Dad’s car was low on gas. Knew there were only two filling stations in town. And, luckily, Jerry knew the police chief personally. A few calls was all it took to locate Father … and to have the proprietor stall him with donuts at the nearest service station. There, Dad was surprised, yet relieved, when Jerry showed up to drive him to the hospital to meet up again with Mother.
By the time my older sister and I arrived at the Mason City hospital -- as the sun began to rise several hours later -- Jerry was seated with my father in the downstairs cafeteria, making sure Dad was eating.
Jerry began this overnight journey with my father as a public servant, a First Responder, but by the time daylight had broken through, he had moved far beyond that role, looking after Dad as he might his own parent.
I’d like to think that I live in a world filled with Jerrys; that we all are caring neighbors for each other. That compassion comes of its own accord in spite of inconvenience. And that it is its own reward.
As I related Jerry’s actions to my mother hours later, she turned to me with laughter in her eyes. “You know that Jerry’s married to that girl who beat you up before school, right?” she asked.
No. I've been away a long time.
And now, somehow, Jerry is even more of a hero in my eyes.
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Posted by: JessicaGm | December 30, 2009 at 12:26 AM
Jerry, thank you for having a good heart. I'm sure your son is just like you. And Brenda, you also have a good heart for sharing this post. Thank you.
Posted by: Dutch Translator | September 13, 2009 at 09:48 PM
Jerry has become my hero too though I haven't met him or hope to meet him. Guys like Jerry would always be source to inspirtation to rest of us.
Hope to *meet* you sometime soon.
Bye for now.
Posted by: Govind | August 29, 2009 at 07:46 AM
Thinking of you.
Posted by: Tammy | June 24, 2009 at 01:13 PM
Wow! Oh my goodness what an ordeal and what a story.
It's so good to *see* you and I do hope you are doing well.
Hugs
Posted by: Monica | May 06, 2009 at 09:31 PM
The world IS filled with Jerry's Brenda and we are blessed when God sends them into our lives.
Posted by: Cheryl Wright | April 21, 2009 at 07:14 PM