Introduction
I was fifty-one years old. An hour earlier, I had rejected the E.M.T.'s assistance and the ambulance ride, but a female police officer at the scene had personally insisted on taking me to the emergency room in her squad car.
As I waited to see a doctor, I noticed that my shirt was covered in blood. Looking at myself in my compact mirror, I could see that four of my front teeth were shattered, my lip was swollen to three times its size, and my nose was leaning to one side, obviously fractured.
I could feel no physical pain. My face was numb despite the severity of my injuries. I had been drinking all day and felt sick to my stomach. I just wanted to hurl and to lie down somewhere warm and safe.
My son and his girlfriend lived nearby. I checked the time and saw that it was still Sunday, just before midnight. I called them to come to the hospital to be with me, assured them everything would be okay, and waited in the crowded ER to see a doctor.
After treatment, x-rays, and a referral to a plastic surgeon, I was released about 4:00 a.m.
As soon as the city offices opened, I was at the courthouse downtown to file charges on the man, my live-in boyfriend, who had assaulted me.
That same morning, my thirty-two-year-old daughter, Jenny, awoke very distraught and crying, having had a disturbing and prophetic dream that I had been brutally beaten by my boyfriend. After relaying the details of the dream to her husband, she tried to call me at work Monday morning and was told I had phoned in sick and did not plan to return to work that week. When she called my house, Chopper told her I wasn't there, and that he did not know where I was. Chopper also said, “We were drinking, got into a big fight and I think I hurt her.”
Feeling panic and needing to find me, Jenny and her husband first went to the hospital, then back by my house and finally to the downtown police station in an effort to locate me. The officer told her where in the courthouse I would most likely have gone to file charges, and they finally found me there. Seeing my condition, Jenny began to cry and hug me. I would later hear the miracle of “how” they knew I needed help that morning.
After I took care of the legal forms and the warrant, Jenny took me to my dentist's office for emergency treatment. She had already prepared them for my visit, and they were ready to help me look as normal as possible until a permanent bridge could be made.
The next morning I had an appointment with the plastic surgeon. After his examination, I was immediately scheduled for rhinoplasty to repair my twice-broken nose.
Jenny took me to her home to stay for a few days until the man’s arrest could be made and I felt safe enough to go home.
My room at Jenny’s house was warm and cozy, and I felt secure, yet so ashamed. My drama had again affected everybody around me and it had to stop.
As I lay in the guestroom bed, I thought of my grandmother and how disappointed she would have been with me. I thought of my own children and how I had hurt them so many times. What was wrong with me? How could I destroy the ones I loved the most? I had sworn to myself time and time again that I would be different, that I would be a loving, kind, and considerate mother, unlike my own.
I sobbed into my pillow, and for the first time in decades, I prayed aloud. “God, please help me! Please save me! I can’t do this anymore, and I know that I can’t change things by myself.”