If you’re a reader who enjoys my writing, you’ll probably want to know why I won’t be so active on social media for the foreseeable future.
In my Thanksgiving Facebook post, I wrote that our existence is short and capricious, and that both good and bad can change in an instant. The reason I wrote that is because two days before, on Tuesday, the ‘instant’ had already happened for us. Things in the Davis household are going to be very different going forward.
On Tuesday afternoon, my husband was driving home on Highway 99 from Yuba City where he’d gone to pick up a pecan pie. You might remember this highway from one of my previous posts, when I wrote about my adventure hauling two wine barrels home in my husband’s pickup. It was a funny story. This one isn’t. Everyone who lives up here in Sutter County, California knows that to call Highway 99 a dangerous highway is an understatement. The minimum speed limit for passenger cars is 65 miles. Given that, given that the highway stretches for eons with no stoplights, almost everyone who drives on it feels comfortable driving well above that speed level.
As my husband was traveling south, a car speeding north on the same highway crossed over the double yellow lines and collided into my husband’s car, which spun and rolled into a ditch. The driver who hit him suffered a broken femur bone. My husband was not so lucky.
(I need to interject here with a message for the internet troll who relished giving out a different version of this incident: This is the way it happened. A witness called me and reported same, a detailed account. She was traumatized by it because, had the oncoming car not hit my husband’s car, it would have hit hers. She was in the far right lane next to his car. Her mother was in her passenger seat. I would also like to tell you that a police officer who read my post on the Yuba Sutter Accident Facebook page wherein I asked if anyone had information, and your subsequent speculative public comments about “road rage” and another ‘witness’ who “said his Mercedes had almost hit someone else earlier”, was so taken with the posts, that he went into his office on his day off so he could get the preliminary report and email it to me. It was kind of him to do so, and very helpful. But you know what, sir? I really didn’t need it to know my husband wasn’t driving recklessly. The only ‘road rage’ he’s ever exhibited is a long, drawn-out, low volume, “Dude—what the f*ck?” when someone cuts him off. I can’t imagine what sort of a thrill you got out of writing that, and then actually repeating it to me when I spoke with you from my husband’s hospital room, but I hope it was worth it for you. You denigrated a very good man, and upset his wife and sons in the process. You terrified me so much with your lie that I called a lawyer to ask if you could harm us. Any more than we’ve already been harmed, that is.)
To get on with this awful tale: Mr. Davis has suffered massive injuries and traumatic brain damage. I will not detail them here. He’s tolerantly amused by my posts about him, but this is different. This is a necessary post, but one that would embarrass him were he able to read it. So, I’m going into as little detail as possible other than to say it’s a miracle he’s alive. I credit the quick-thinking witness who also told me she called nine-one-one immediately. Because she told me she and her mother would have been hit by the oncoming car instead were his car not there, I like the thought that he saved her life and she saved his. By acting so quickly, within ten minutes help arrived, and he was whisked off to UC Davis, where his care has been stellar. His team of surgeons, residents, and neurologists are mostly female, one bright spot in this mess. They speak to us with compassion and respect, and are doing a kickass job on piecing him back together.
There’s only so much that can be done with injuries of this caliber, and we, his family, recognize that he will most likely not be the same man he was when he left the house to get pecan pie.
So, we’ll be taking a new road together, he and I. One that requires my focused and consistent attention. I won’t have time for much else for a long time, I think, but we have been by each other’s sides through so much, and we’ll be by each other’s sides through this.
I needed to write this publicly to readers and friends who have been so loyal and loving. If I hadn’t, you’d wonder why I’m not writing. You’d wonder why I’m not answering messages and texts. This is why.
I know it’s shocking and horrible news, and some of you are feeling just terrible. I’m sorry for that. It’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do, except send us your best wishes. Those who pray, I won’t turn that down, and thank you.
But if you really want to help, please talk up Lyvia’s House film. Spread the word about it, donate if you can. This was to be my project for the next six months while the footage is being edited, colored, and scored. I was to raise money and awareness. I can’t do that now, and it hurts me, because everyone involved worked so hard on it, and I want it to be a success for all of them.
I want that now more than ever, because my husband is in it. I cajoled him into taking a small role. “Cajoled” meaning he pretended he needed to have his arm twisted, then loved every minute of it, and was a natural. We teased him that his career was going to take off, and he’d leave us for Hollywood. Everyone loved him on that set, and it is my most recent happy memory of him. I want to see him in it, on screen, healthy, walking, having fun. So, help with that, if you can. A mention of the film yesterday by Anja Martin from Germany, who posted a Lyvia’s House film poster that she purchased brightened our spirits. It’s exciting to know Lyvia is in Germany. If you’re on Instagram, please follow the Lyvia’s House page, etc. etc. And the Lyvia’s House website lets you donate if you press the doorbell.
I love being tagged on the film posts, and I love reading your messages, but please don’t be upset if I don’t respond.
That’s all for now, except for this: be kind to each other. (screenshot below: My husband as “Sgt. Brian” in Lyvia’s House)