Today's prompt: LOSS OF SLEEP.

I've gone without sleep on many occasions. Sometimes out of choice--like those times in college when I procrastinated too long and then pulled all-nighters to write a paper or study for an exam. Other times my lack of sleep was due to irritating nocturnal disturbances, such as when my family unknowingly camped next to a very busy railroad track in McLean, Texas. Then of course there are those frustrating occasions when lack of sleep comes from a busy brain that inexplicably won't shut off and a body that won't stop tossing and turning. Those are the times when non-sleep is a vicious cycle--you look at the clock every five minutes and start to panic thinking about how early you need to awaken in the morning and how tired you will be at work the following day, which only serves to agitate you further and keeps the insomnia going.

But the most vivid memory I have regarding loss of sleep happened the night our youngest daughter was involved in a bad car accident. It was a warm spring day and Julie, a junior in high school at the time, had driven her Acura down to Warner Robins that afternoon to visit a friend. The Acura was her first car—a hand-me-down from her sister. Night had already fallen when the phone rang and we received that dreaded call--the stuff of every parent's nightmare. Julie herself was on the other end of the line. "I've just wrecked my car," she told me in a strange, flat voice, with no audible trace of hysteria or panic. I, however, immediately went into full panic mode. I fired off questions at her as she explained her location and told me that paramedics had been called and were on their way. It had been a head-on collision and she was worried about the woman in the other car whose legs were hurt. Julie thought she was OK herself, but a nurse had stopped at the scene and was instructing her to lie down. I quickly ascertained that the detached tone of my daughter’s voice probably meant she was in shock. I urged her to follow the nurse's instructions and told her we'd be there as quickly as we could.

By the time we drove the 30 miles and arrived at the scene of the accident, both drivers had been taken to the hospital and the cars had already been towed away. We proceeded on to the hospital with our hearts in our throats. We were lead through the emergency room maze and there behind one of the curtains was Julie. She was lying strapped to a back board with her neck in a brace, still wearing her jeans and T-shirt. She was barefoot; her shoes nowhere in sight. Tears were in her eyes and when she saw us, they began rolling down her dirt-streaked face. Ants were randomly scurrying here and there over her body; she had been lying in the dirt beside her car until the paramedics arrived. Tears sprang up in my eyes as I busied myself picking off the ants. Sobbing, she told us was that she was so sorry. She said that she was on her way home when her cell phone, sitting on the passenger seat, started ringing and she glanced over to see who was calling. In those few seconds her eyes were off the road, she crossed the center line going about 50 mph and hit a car coming the opposite way. The driver's sides of both cars were crushed. Julie's air bag had deployed and when it was over and her car came to a stop, she found herself on the floor of the passenger side of the car. And no, she hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt.

The emergency room was extremely busy and we had to wait a very long time before Julie ever saw a doctor that night. In the meantime, it was heart-rending to see her lying so uncomfortably on that board. Her lips were chapped and dry and she begged for a drink of water. I tracked down a nurse but was informed that she wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything until a doctor had examined her. As time went on, she began crying in discomfort and pain. I finally grabbed a paper towel and got it wet in the sink. I washed off her dirty face and hands, then soaked another paper towel and squeezed it, letting the water drip into her mouth. Over and over, we repeated those pitiful motions until finally she felt some relief from being so parched.

A doctor eventually examined her and ordered several tests and X-rays. We waited through the entire night in that uncomfortable, miserable place. It was very cold in the ER and an elderly lady with dementia was in the next cubicle. She yelled the same phrases over and over all night long. “They’re twins!” she hollered, “A boy and a girl!” She was about to drive the three of us mad! An sympathetic nurse walked by in the hallway and as she glanced in at us, she saw the aggravated looks on our faces. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry!” and asked if there was anything she could do for us. “Sedate that old lady!” we answered without hesitation. The nurse did bring us each a heated white sheet to wrap up in, so for the rest of the night we looked like three mummies as we heard repeatedly about the boy and girl twins.

The X-rays revealed that a small bone chip had broken off in Julie’s left wrist, and her left foot was broken. There were miraculously no other injuries. At 5:00 am she was released to go home, and I called my boss, leaving a message to explain why I wouldn’t be in to work. My voice cracked as I told about the accident; the enormity of the situation was just starting to hit. But it wasn’t until later that day, when Rich and I visited the tow yard to remove items from her car, that the full extent of just how lucky Julie was became crystal clear. As we explained who we were to the owner of the yard, he looked at us cautiously. “So what happened to your daughter?” he asked hesitantly. He was amazed when we answered that she was home and would be fine. He told us that he had worked for many years in the business, and by looking at the car, he had figured it was a fatality for sure. He led us to the car and as I took in the horrific sight, I finally broke down. I completely lost it realizing just how close we had come to having the most tragic day of our lives.

At a minimum, it’s a miracle that Julie's legs weren’t crushed in the mangled heap of metal that used to be the driver’s side of the car. As much as I’ve harped at her about wearing a seatbelt, the fact that she didn’t have it on and was thrown to the passenger side may have saved her. But I prefer to think that guardian angels in the form of her three grandparents were probably what saved Julie that night. Julie may believe that as well. I notice she always wears her seatbelt now.