Part 2

Several minutes after Raymond went off to ride his bike, I yelled to Amanda to get moving so I didn't miss the bus. I walked out on my porch, and I heard a strange sound. Then it got louder. Then I heard a bang and a loud grinding noise. A green Chevy blazer appeared, scraping its way down the side of the "city steps" that people use to walk up the steep hill instead of a sidewalk. I'm sure it moved quickly, but it seemed like slow motion. Then it ran into the step railing at the bottom of my hill and flipped over on its back.

I did not think of the people in the truck. I immediately ran to see if Raymond was OK. I knew he would have been either on his way up the hill with his bike, or at the first crest where there was a flat area to ride. I didn't think he'd have made it to the top yet, which means that he would have been right where the truck had scraped its way down the hill. All of these thoughts flashed through my mind in an instant as I was running around the corner.

Then I saw what I thought was a part of the bike. (Actually the bike fell in one piece.) I began to go up the steps, and I saw him. He was laying in a heap on the steps. Blood was dripping from his ear, mouth and nose. His helmet had shattered and the pieces of it lay around him. One eye was open and it was just staring and unresponsive. The other one was closed. He had a huge gash in his chest, and part of his shoulder was torn, leaving a large wound, but the wounds weren't bleeding. He was grayish and pale. He wasn't breathing. Then he gasped his last breath, although I didn't know that at the time. It was deep, as happens when you get the wind knocked out of you and you finally catch your breath. It was a gurgling sound -- then no more breathing. I was horrified in a way that words can not come close to describing. I smelled blood and smoke.

I began to scream, "My baby, my baby, someone call 911!" But it didn't seem as if it was me screaming. It was as though I was watching a movie of myself. Everything was far away. I think I went to get my phone, or Amanda came out with it. I don't know when she appeared. But she was there, and neighbors came running down the street, and a police car pulled up, and then several more. I remember that one of the cars was silver and not a city police car. I don' t know why I noticed that.

The police went running down to the truck with a fire extinguisher. I remember yelling at them, "What about my baby! Aren't you going to help him! Call 911! Someone please help my baby! I screamed that last part over and over again. The police officers ignored me, continuing down towards the truck. Except one younger officer. He came over to me and told me that an ambulance was on its way. We went over to Raymond and I was rubbing his back and saying please hang in there. C'mon baby, you are strong.

The ambulance arrived within minutes. I rode in the front. A neighbor offered to take Amanda. The trip in the ambulance seemed to take forever. They didn't use the siren unless they came to an intersection. That pissed me off. They didn't seem to be going fast enough. I kept looking back to see what was going on. The door kept coming open and the driver kept trying to slam it shut. The medic in the back was doing CPR. I was screaming hysterically to God to please save my baby. I promised that I would do anything forever if he would please save my baby. I noticed that we were not going to the Allegheny General, the closest hospital to my home. I cried, 'Where are we going? Allegheny is closer!" He said we were going to Children 's Hospital and it suddenly hit full force that my child may die. I screamed some more. "Don't let him die! Don't let him die! Please God, don't let him die!"

There was traffic when we got near the hospital and the sirens went on. In hindsight, I think I may have gone crazy if they had been on the whole time, but I kept wondering what they weren't using them as we drove. I told myself the lie that if he were really dying they would have the sirens on. My thoughts raced and I screamed the whole way there. The driver was nice and said kind words that I don't remember. I never thanked him.

We arrived at the hospital where a social worker took me past the crowd in the ER waiting room. Past the people whose children had ear infections and sprained ankles. We went down some steps to a tiny office with concrete block walls that were painted yellow. They asked me for some information about insurance. I didn't want to tell them. I begged them not to treat him differently because we were on Medicaid. The woman assured me they would do all they could, no matter the insurance.

I called my mother, but she wasn't home. I called Raymond's dad, who was still in Florida, but he wasn't home either. I told his mother that Raymond had been hit by a car and he was in critical condition. I left the number for the hospital. Then I called my priest and he said he would come. After I hung up the phone, I dropped to my knees and prayed. Several times someone came in to tell me that they were still working on him. My mother, sister and priest arrived. Amanda had called my mother from the neighbor's house. My sister said they had a hard time getting to her because there were cop cars and fire trucks all over the place. I don't know what else they said. I was preparing myself for the news that I knew I would hear. The others hadn' t seen him lying there, but I did. I knew it would take a miracle for him to survive.

Continue to Part Three