Angels Among Us

People who are crazy tell crazy stories. That doesn't make them false, just unreliable, I suppose. But I have heard of some strange "happenings" from people who are not crazy. Ghost stories, whispers from angels stories, past lives stories. I had my share of incidental "happenings" too, but on June 26, 2016, I met an angel. 

At CHKD after waking up. She is still a little droopy on one side. 

Driving back from Suffolk, the highway was at a standstill. My GPS told me taking Military Highway was the quicker route off of 64, so I headed to the exit ramp. As soon as I got onto the unfamiliar road home, I looked into my rear view mirror at Charlotte. She was just staring at me, eyes desperately trying to say something. I turned off the radio. All I could hear was what sounded like ice. Chewing ice. Gargling. 

"Charlotte!" I yelled. "Charlotte. Spit it out!"

I knew there was no ice in her mouth. At least my brain did. I knew the symptoms she was exhibiting were eerily similar to the ones my mother had described almost a year before. But my brain and mouth were not communicating at the time. Luckily my brain took the wheel and pulled over on the side of the highway.

As I frantically unhooked Charlotte from the car seat, I called 911. 

Charlotte's left arm would not stop jerking uncontrollably. 

The 911 operator calmly asked me what was wrong and where I was. I had no idea. 

"Somewhere off of Military Highway." 

"Ma'am, I need you to look around at street signs." 

With Charlotte's arms jerking, mouth gurgling, eyes screaming to speak, I pulled my five-year old out of the car. 

"Help me," were my only words.

"Ma'am, calm down and look around. You have to let us know where you are." 

"Please, help me..."

I knelt to the grass on the side of the road and held Charlotte on her side, still convulsing and gurgling and pleading. I still had no idea where we were. 

Here we were, a woman and her child clearly in need of help on the side of the highway. There were cars going by, but only one stopped. A little white sedan pulled up beside us. A twenty something man got out of his car and walked over to us. He had flaming red hair and tattoos covering all visible parts of his body from head to toe. He was also smoking a cigarette. The smoke billowed behind him as he walked toward us. 

"Where are we?" I asked him. He looked around.

"Galberry and Enterprise."

I told the 911 operator. She dispatched the ambulance.

The red-headed man didn't speak again.  He just sat next to us. For support.  Having put the cigarette out sometime before sitting down, he just watched over us while I held Charlotte and waited for the EMTs. I told him thank you. I think I did. A firetruck, police cars and a gray ambulance came. An officer took my keys and moved my car out of the road. An EMT took Charlotte from my arms and put her in the back of the ambulance while I crawled into the front.

Her arm continued to convulse while I sat helpless up front. I called my husband who used light-speed to meet us at CHKD. Luckily Sadie had been with him. 

Once we got to the hospital, one of the EMTs (a Clarence the angel lookalike) asked if I wanted a member of the clergy to come to see me. Now, I have seen a lot of  hospital shows, and the only time they ask if you want a minister is if someone is about to die. Luckily, Clarence could see the hyperventilation showing up on my face and pointed to my shirt. 

It said: "I love Jesus and coffee and naps."  Ok, I understand. 

Charlotte recovered. She went to the neurologist. She has seizures that she should outgrow in puberty. She is on medication. Everything went back to normal.  

About a week after the seizure, driving through Norfolk, Charlotte saw an ambulance through the window of the car. 

She said, "Hey mommy, that ambulance looks like the one I was in." And it did. Whereas most ambulances are pretty standard, this one was quite different because of the gray color. So, she clearly remembered that afternoon.

I asked her what else she remembered because I couldn't believe she remembered anything. I even asked her to make a list. 

She remembered Mr. Tim picking her up and putting her in the ambulance. 

She remembered the police who were at the scene with the ambulance. 

She remembered the fire truck. 

All of this happened on the side of Military Highway. Not at CHKD where her seizure had finally subsided. 

I looked over her list again and thought she had missed something. 

So I asked her, "Do you remember the man who helped us? He sat right next to us while we waited for the ambulance?" Surely she remembered him. He was there next to us much longer than any of the others. 

She simply said, "Mommy, there was no man there."

When people think of angels, they naturally assume they will have halos and wings or look like sweet old men like Clarence, but angels come in all shapes and sizes. Mine just happens to be a red-headed tatted-up smoker. Sounds good to me.