The Aftermath
Minutes before impact, Chris’ dad, Kevin, refueled the kart in grid just outside of corner four while Chris paced around frustrated waiting for his father to finish. “You’re the fastest one out here tonight,” he reassured Chris. “You can get this back.” Kevin had never missed a race with his son, and he understood the innate talent Chris possessed for driving from an early age. Chris had been passing karts at will all night, and Kevin was optimistic that his son would regain the lead with little effort. Chris conceded and sat back down in the kart while Kevin placed the starter on the engine and pulled the cord. The engine ignited. They bumped fists, looked up the field, and pointed to the front; a ritual implemented to engage his son’s confidence in the upcoming challenge. Chris nodded and stomped the gas.
Kevin settled into a nearby spectator area designated strictly for parents and pit crew that allows easy access to the field. He watched his son overtake half of his competitors within the better part of a few laps and relaxed knowing that Chris had not allowed his earlier frustration to affect his current mentality. Chris worked his way back down the straightaway towards turn three, and Kevin immediately recognized the high line setup for the crossover. “He’s got him,” Kevin thought as Chris dove in and broke out from behind the opposing driver. Kevin smiled with pride in the fact that Chris was willing to put in the work to earn the lead back. Everything was right. The kart was right. The driving was right. It was all coming together. That’s when he heard it. The sound of what seemed to be a baseball bat hitting a cardboard box snapped him back to reality. He looked up to see Sturdivant’s kart flying over the top of Chris knocking his head back. The impact was sudden and over in a matter of seconds. Sturdivant was left bouncing on the ground, seemingly uninjured, as Chris continued to roll into the infield. At first, confusion set in as to what happened or where the kart came from, but Kevin knew that Chris had taken a hit to the head. He took off running towards his son. |
Kevin was the first person to reach Chris. He popped his visor up, held his son’s head in between his hands, and looked him in the eyes. “Chris, are you okay?” “Get me out of the kart,” Chris responded adamantly. “No. Stay very still. You took a hard hit to the head.” “My legs are hurting. Get me out of the kart now.” “No. We’re going to sit here for a few minutes, and then I’ll get you out.” Kevin could see the damages to the front of the kart and assumed that he had most likely sprained his ankles; however, he wasn't going to move his son and risk severing his spinal cord due to the force of impact sustained to his head. Chris hit Sturdivant at such a high rate of speed that the force of impact propelled Sturdivant’s kart into the air hitting Chris in the head as he rolled underneath. Kevin kept talking with Chris until the EMT arrived.
After the initial assessment of Chris’ head and neck, the EMT determined that it was safe to remove Chris without risking damage to his spinal cord. They picked him up out of the kart and sat him on the ground. Chris insisted on the intensity of discomfort in his legs, but without removing his driver’s suit and shoes for further evaluation, the EMT did little but suggest that he had two severely sprained ankles. Not allowing him to stand, they placed him on a four-wheeler for transport back to Kevin and Chris’ trailer in the pits. Once inside the trailer, Chris removed his shoes and Kevin instantly noticed the excessive swelling to his lower extremities. He elevated his son’s legs and grabbed two bags of ice for compression. The immediate pain from the weight of the ice bags proved unbearable, and Kevin knew there was something more to his injuries. He decided it was time to head to the emergency room, but first, he needed to called Chris’ mother, Jackie. |
Jackie put the book down that she was studying for an upcoming nursing exam and answered the phone to hear her husband’s voice. “I think he’s sprained his ankles really bad. Where do we need to take him?” Having worked as a paramedic for ten years, Jackie was unalarmed and not heavily concerned by the precautionary measures her husband was taking. “Go to Memorial hospital, and I’ll meet you there,” she instructed. Jackie reached the hospital several minutes ahead of Kevin and Chris and waited patiently in the parking lot for them to arrive. It wasn’t long before she saw her father-in-law’s 1992 Suzuki Sidekick pulling into the short-term emergency parking. Chris was riding in the passenger seat with his feet propped on the dash. Jackie made her way to the side of the truck to check on her son and immediately recognized the swelling and haematoma associated with broken bones. “Sprained?! Seriously?! We need a wheelchair, now.”
Kevin and Jackie waited anxiously in a private hospital room while Chris was taken to radiology for x-rays of his legs. Jackie understood that Chris’ injuries were serious but didn’t yet know the extent of trauma her son suffered in the accident. Kevin and Jackie managed to remove Chris’ driver’s suit without cutting it, at his own request, but he was in excruciating pain throughout the process. She feared the worst. A half hour later, the radiology technologist rolled Chris back into the private room with his parents. “The doctor will be here shortly,” she said as she quickly walked out. With a shocked look on his face, Chris turned to his parents, “well, I must have broken them really bad.” Why do you say that?” Jackie asked. “I overheard the x-ray technician say ‘oh my gosh, is that his ankle?” The reality of her son’s situation began to take hold as the ER doctor entered the room within minutes of his return. “Ma’am, your son has bilateral tibia and fibula fractures in both legs. We won’t know the extent of the damage until we get in there, but he’s going to need reconstructive surgery if he ever wants to walk again. Do you know an orthopedic surgeon?” Without hesitation, Jackie said, “Jimmy Tucker.” “I’m not sure if he's on call tonight, but I’ll have the nurse check if you’ll follow me.” Jackie followed the doctor to the nurses station where she stood waiting for the verdict of Dr. Tucker's schedule. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Tucker’s not on call tonight. Do you know of anyone else?” the nurse continued rummaging though papers on her desk barely paying Jackie any mind. Frustration, panic, and fear started to creep in as Jackie's patience began to falter. “I don’t care if he’s not on call. Page him,” Jackie insisted. “I worked for him for two years. He knows me personally. Page him.” Sensing Jackie's desperation, the nurse obliged to send the page as Jackie prayed that he would pick up the phone and call. It rang. The nurse looked at Jackie then to the phone and then back to Jackie. She picked up the receiver and handed it directly over. “Hello,” Jackie said. “This is Jimmy Tucker,” he responded. Hearing his voice brought Jackie an overwhelming flood of relief and grief all in the same moment. She started to cry. “This is Jackie. Christopher has broken both of his legs." “How’d he do that?” he asked. “That damn go kart,” she said through her tears. “Where are you?” “We’re at Memorial Hospital.” “I’m on my way." Dr. Tucker arrived on the scene in less than twenty minutes.
Kevin and Jackie waited anxiously in a private hospital room while Chris was taken to radiology for x-rays of his legs. Jackie understood that Chris’ injuries were serious but didn’t yet know the extent of trauma her son suffered in the accident. Kevin and Jackie managed to remove Chris’ driver’s suit without cutting it, at his own request, but he was in excruciating pain throughout the process. She feared the worst. A half hour later, the radiology technologist rolled Chris back into the private room with his parents. “The doctor will be here shortly,” she said as she quickly walked out. With a shocked look on his face, Chris turned to his parents, “well, I must have broken them really bad.” Why do you say that?” Jackie asked. “I overheard the x-ray technician say ‘oh my gosh, is that his ankle?” The reality of her son’s situation began to take hold as the ER doctor entered the room within minutes of his return. “Ma’am, your son has bilateral tibia and fibula fractures in both legs. We won’t know the extent of the damage until we get in there, but he’s going to need reconstructive surgery if he ever wants to walk again. Do you know an orthopedic surgeon?” Without hesitation, Jackie said, “Jimmy Tucker.” “I’m not sure if he's on call tonight, but I’ll have the nurse check if you’ll follow me.” Jackie followed the doctor to the nurses station where she stood waiting for the verdict of Dr. Tucker's schedule. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Tucker’s not on call tonight. Do you know of anyone else?” the nurse continued rummaging though papers on her desk barely paying Jackie any mind. Frustration, panic, and fear started to creep in as Jackie's patience began to falter. “I don’t care if he’s not on call. Page him,” Jackie insisted. “I worked for him for two years. He knows me personally. Page him.” Sensing Jackie's desperation, the nurse obliged to send the page as Jackie prayed that he would pick up the phone and call. It rang. The nurse looked at Jackie then to the phone and then back to Jackie. She picked up the receiver and handed it directly over. “Hello,” Jackie said. “This is Jimmy Tucker,” he responded. Hearing his voice brought Jackie an overwhelming flood of relief and grief all in the same moment. She started to cry. “This is Jackie. Christopher has broken both of his legs." “How’d he do that?” he asked. “That damn go kart,” she said through her tears. “Where are you?” “We’re at Memorial Hospital.” “I’m on my way." Dr. Tucker arrived on the scene in less than twenty minutes.