Day One.

   I've started this blog mainly to help me process the last few weeks messy juxtaposition of love, fear, hope and agony.  It may or may not be interesting to anyone else, but mostly I'm writing for me, and maybe for Brian, himself, so he can see everything that we've gone through while he was asleep. I guess the place to begin is the beginning.


   I almost want to start at before the beginning, but I'll go to the week Before.

I'm a pretty thankful person, and happy.  There's too many wonderful things happening in life, on this green green earth under the bluest of skies to be unhappy. Just thinking about a bright spring day brightens my spirits.  And who would one be thankful to, anyway?  God, of course.

 Looking back to the first week in May I'd say our life was downright idyllic. We have this 1920s house, with vintage glass doorknobs and heavy on the textured wall paper. We've been here a year last Valentine's day and we love every odd nook and cranny.  At least I do, I can't say for my Husband, Brian. It's such a cozy little house with a great big wide porch and we painted most of the rooms cheery, happy colors. The kitchen is my favorite yellow- not mustard, not school bus or sunflower- and the living room Brian's favorite bright blue- we argued the year of our engagement about it being aqua or turquoise or "bright blue."

We have a little boy, who just turned one March 31. He's sweet and chubby, learning everything, everything, everything and I love him to bits. He's one of the best things about life, and he has these big brown eyes that just study you and figure everything out.  He's quite mild mannered, and that makes him sweeter.  He can do baby sign and when his fat hands say "more" or "eat" of course he gets his way! He loves teasing you as much as a one year old can and thinks it's terribly funny to do naughty things.

And then, there's Brian. He's a total sweetheart too. We met 7 years ago at church, started dating 6, and we were married 2 years ago in March. It was the loveliest wedding I've been to. (Of course I'm allowed to say that!) He's tall- to me, though the "short Wilson"- and has a great sense of humor, he's always cracking me up. He can sing and make your heart stop and goosebumps rise and he's really handy, always working out in the yard or on our shop, which burnt down in February. He made me a gorgeous pallet coffee table, which was before we were married and upcycled pallet furniture was all the rage. He's very creative and passionate about whatever hobby he has. Most of his hobbies are dangerous. He loves surfing, snowboarding, hiking, rock climbing and anything that pushes his limits.  Brian has the gentlest of hearts and is one of the kindest men I know.


I had just gotten back from a two week trip to visit my family in North Carolina one last time before my sister's wedding.  It was the longest time we had been apart since we were married and we had been pretty lonesome by the time I got home. There he stood, iced coffee from Dutch Brothers in one hand and a shy sweet smile playing on his mouth.

We had a magical week together, we went on dates in the middle of the week, spending every spare minute together and I loved just being home, cleaning and making things tidy before I was off again, to my friend Bethany's wedding.

The night before Brian's accident, we were just palling around with his sister Lana and her husband Marcus at home, debating if we should go anywhere.  Elliot entertained us all with his clumsy walking attempts and general goof ball ways. He was all wound up between Papa and Uncle Marcus, and I particularly remember him just sitting on Brian's head, giggling to beat the band.  Elliot is a total ham! We went to bed with plans to meet up for brunch at the farmers market.

On Saturday, May 4, 2013, Brian and his brother Trenton left early to go finish some work they had done at a friends house 6 weeks or so earlier. The plan was to clean up the yard of the limbs they had trimmed from the trees.

Brian got up at 8, kissed me softly, saying, "Bye, Dear, see you at ten."

"At Ten," I managed in my sleep, not knowing how precious that sentence would be in the days following.

Around 9 I got up and got ready when my phone rang. Seeing it was Trenton, I answered, thinking, It's just like Brian to forget his phone at home! They're probably going to be late to breakfast.   Instead of Trenton's easy voice, a stranger asked me if I was Rosa Wilson.  Thinking it must be Trenton pranking me somehow I replied that it was she.

The stranger went on to explain that he was the local Fire Chief (Captain? the details have blurred since.)

Your husband has been in an accident. He fell 15 feet from a tree and hit his head pretty hard. 

"Yes, okay,"  I say my voice strangely calm as I notice, as from a distance, that my hand is shaking.

They're rushing him by ambulance to Peace Health South West. That's pretty standard for a fall from that height. You should go there as soon as you can, go to the emergency room and tell them you're Brian's wife. 

"Okay, thank you for calling, I'll go as soon as I can." I hung up and finished dressing Baby Boy, who is all tanned fat and morning grins. As I was getting ready and packing a lunch- it might be a long day- my sweet sweet mother in law, Gwen called and said she and Phil would be over to pick me up and go with me to the ED if I wanted. Which of course sounded okay.

As I waited for them, I heard the sirens wail on their way down 503 and deep down I knew the man I love flew by.

It can't be that bad, I reasoned It sounded pretty routine to bring them by ambulance, I told myself.  But they don't use sirens on just anyone. Trenton wouldn't call 911 for no reason. An annoying voice kept needling.  We'll probably go to the CDU (Clinical Decision Unit) for the day and be discharged this afternoon on pain killers, Brian grumpy and annoyed that he's missed out on one of the most beautiful days of the year and his plans for roofing the shop and rock climbing were interrupted. He was rushed by ambulance. Please, dear God, please let everything be okay. Please, please, please, let everything be okay. Please be with Brian. Please be with Brian. 

When Phil and Gwen came they hugged me and we set off. I know I rattled on about how he was probably going to be fine, vacillating between the two voices in my head, how it's probably just the EMS standard to bring head injuries in, and he's probably got a concussion, and maybe he's not that badly hurt, and the fire chief probably couldn't say either way.

As we drove down the freeway, I was struck with how beautiful of a day it was and how we were going to be standing up Marcus and Lana at the farmers market and how disappointed Brian would be to be BACK at the hospital after he had just worked there two days in a row and there he was, back again on his first day off.

We waited about a minute in the ED after we told the triage nurse who we were. They kindly rushed us right back which also worried me a bit. The room they brought us to was the familiar curtained off room and a Doctor met us on the way, introducing himself to us as the trauma doc on duty. He explained that Brian was in CT scan. Oh, lovely, Brian's going to be so annoyed at paying for all these useless tests, I thought.

  He has a pretty bad skull fracture, but we want to check everything else out too.