I landed in my driveway. I tried to stand up, but when I lifted my arm it bent the wrong way, so I knew it was broken. I tried to find people in my cell phone, but couldn't get it to work right. The neighbor kids were outside, so I asked them to go get their parents. Their mom supported my head, they called 911, and their dad called 2 couples in the church, who headed over here immediately.
The paramedics arrived and cut open my sleeve. When they saw my arm, they told me not to look. They convinced me I needed to go directly to the trauma center. My friends grabbed the things I needed and started making phone calls. By the time I got to the hospital, they had lined up someone to preach on Sunday. They kept Sister informed.
I spent 4 hours in the ER, with my friends beside me. I was freaking them out, apparently. My oxygen levels dropped, setting off alarms, every time I dozed off. They finally started me on oxygen. The surgeon decided to hold off on the surgery until Sunday morning, and with my entourage in tow, I reached my room about 1:00 a.m.
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