That first day after the accident was a long, tiring day. I was at the hospital for 17 hours. I was wearing the clothing I had thrown on in the middle of the night. My hair stood on end. I was exhausted, upset, frightened and in shock. The news was on all day, and pictures of the accident came on every twenty minutes or so. My mother and sister went to my house to get clothing to send me and encountered six news vans and reporters, who stopped them in the driveway and tried to interview them. There were reporters sneaking into the hospital. Someone from Time Magazine called my former business partner in Atlanta and tried to interview him. I checked my anwering machine at home and listened to 21 messages from reporters from all over America.
Every couple of hours I went in to see George. He was on a respirator and had a temperature of 104. A nurse stayed with him constantly. In the waiting room, a small crowd of people were gathered, waiting for word on George. Lily was playing in the children’s area with a couple of kind people from Quest. She seemed okay. I was very concerned about her. She was incredibly close to her dad.
Though there were lots of people there, I felt very alone. I knew enough about burns to know that we were in big trouble, and that George would never be the same. He was most badly burned on his hands and arms, probably from opening the plane door. He also had a huge burn on his back. His legs were burned, as he had been wearing shorts. In his room, the nurse handed me a plastic bag. Inside were his shorts, which had been cut off. A few other items were in the bottom of the bag. His wedding ring was missing, and has never been found. The little bag of belongings seemed so inconsequential. Not much to represent a life and career.
We sat, holding vigil, until 7 pm that night. Then I was flown home. The doctor had told me that there was no point in staying at the hospital all weekend since George was in a coma and would be for weeks. He told me that it would be best to go home and deal with any issues so that I could be available once George woke up to stay with him constantly. He said burn victims needed constant help during rehab. So, I went home.
Lily was already there, having been flown home earlier that day. She was sick with a fever and was vomiting. She had thrown up in the plane. I felt terrible that she had had to fly twice in the 18 hours after the accident. I’m sure she was scared in the small, loud plane.
I went straight to my parents home, laid down on the couch, and fell into a deep sleep. I slept for about six hours and then woke up and began to worry. I called the hospital and spoke to the nurse. She said that George was holding his own, his fever was down a bit, and to call the next day. I hung up. put my head down and cried myself to sleep.
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