5 minute read
IN THE ARMS OF STRANGERS: finding family in unexpected places
BY SHARI HALL
Five days before the Matters Magazine ‘New Beginnings’ issue launched, a devastating event occurred that would change my life.
I rose early with feelings of anxiety and excitement, often difficult to distinguish since both emotions result from the release of adrenalin. I dressed stylishly and professionally, ready to attend a Business Networking International (BNI) breakfast meeting.
Driving to the Mooloolaba Wharf, the smell of dozens of freshly printed magazines filled my car. Despite a fine mist raining from the sky, I opened my windows and inhaled the moist air. I had been invited to the BNI Team Momentum meeting, and they were about to receive exclusive preview copies of Matters with my debut as the new editor-in-chief. My heartbeat was palpable, and my mind raced with thoughts of whether it was good enough, whether they would like it, and whether they would accept it.
I walked toward the venue's entrance with my bag in tow, hoping the magazines wouldn’t get wet. Just as I stepped from the concrete walkway to the wooden boardwalk, I felt my foot slip and without a moment’s notice, I was lying face down on the boardwalk in excruciating and unbearable pain. I couldn’t move.
It seemed like an eternity I was lying in the puddles, my beautiful black jumpsuit soaking through, my hair drenched, my mascara running down my cheeks, and my arm popped out of its socket, a definite dislocation. For a moment, I thought I would faint. Then a gentle masculine voice came from above and asked with concern, “Are you alright? Can I help you?”
Moments later, four or five additional strangers were coming to my assistance.
I knew none of their names, what they did for a living, or if any of them even knew who I was. But none of that seemed to matter. Here’s what did matter; one person knelt by my side and held my arm, another supported my back, a third gently rolled me to the side and aided me to a sitting position, a fourth was on the phone to the Queensland Ambulance Service, a fifth stood behind me to provide solid support to lean on, and a sixth had already run to the nearby restaurant to get a bag of ice. A seventh held my hand and spoke calming words into my ears, and an eighth brought something to rest my heavy dead arm upon. Oblivious to any sense of time, overwhelmed by the pain and nausea, it appeared everything was moving in slow motion.
The next thing I knew, I was in the back of the ambulance with two poised and professional paramedics. One swiftly placed an intravenous line in my arm, administered an anti-emetic to relieve my queasiness, and gave me a ‘green whistle’ to inhale to alleviate my pain. The other drove safely and speedily to the Sunshine Coast University Hospital Emergency Department. Less than an hour later, I’d been triaged and assessed by the nurses, had an x-ray performed by the radiology technician, had seen the orthopaedic surgeon and anaesthetist, and was prepared for the reduction of my fractured, dislocated shoulder.
Before I knew it, I’d been monitored and anaesthetised, had my shoulder put back in place and was CT scanned. My husband was sitting by my side in the recovery bay, and two hours later, I was home sitting on my sofa, completely inebriated from the intense pain medications I’d received. Needless to say, it was not the morning I anticipated when I walked out the door.
But why am I sharing this traumatic experience with you as an editorial in the ‘Family’ issue of Matters Magazine? Because… family can be defined in so many ways. Other than my husband, who was late to the scene because he was already at work, all of the beautiful humans who assisted me that morning were strangers to me. None would be defined as a family member or next of kin. Yet, on that morning, they were my family.
They held, comforted, cared for, and reassured me. They acted swiftly and altruistically – the true essence of Agape. From the members of BNI Team Momentum, the restauranteurs, paramedics, wardsmen, and technicians, to the doctors and nurses, the pharmacist and nursing assistants… together, they formed my family and ensured there was not one moment I endured this experience alone.
With all that is happening in our world today, locally and globally, it’s often hard to see the beauty and compassion that exists right before our eyes. We forget that we are not the only ones managing through the day-to-day struggles and suffering of just walking through this human experience. But this day, this event, this moment reassured me there is a common bond that ties us together… love.
I am happy to say I am healing. The magazine was presented to the group by its members that morning in my absence, and my life hasn’t been shattered, even though my bones were. Thank you, my family.
