Strike Three

And I thought I could get away with counting Ma’s two leg fractures from her boating fall as separate incidents. It seems ‘the rule of threes’ thought better and gave us the horrific events of Jan 2 to teach me so.

After the heat and wind fuelled grass fires licking the fence lines of Quidong on Sunday, Ma, Pa, Matt and I set off in the 4WD to survey the fire damage from the top of the big hill. Half way up the steep and windy fire trail we stopped to clear fallen timber from the track. ‘The crip’ was left in the front seat of the parked and breaked vehicle.

One tree shifted and the able bodied staggered on another 20m or so to the next fallen tree. We were just sizing up the job when we heard a yelp and turned to see the ute gently rolling backwards along the road, straight for the hairpin bend and 10m sheer drop. What was to follow was a few seconds of the most terror I have ever felt as I watched the ute flip and tumble down the embankment. I heard myself screaming but don’t remember the terrified pelt towards the wreckage of the now stationary vehicle, perched on its side about 2m down the embankment, resting heavily on a stump.

There was no response to my desperate shrieks to Mum and I was totally bereft as I rounded the wreckage to find a still, grey & bloodied woman hanging up-side down from one of the smashed out windows.

A murmur and a flutter of eyes was the most welcome sight and suddenly I was at the top of a rise on the phone to 000.

From then an eerie calm descended. Dad & Matt took the decision to move Mum from the wreckage lest it continue its decent or the leaking fuel prove further danger. Matt and I spoke quietly to my confused and groggy mum, trying to keep her from slipping into unconsciousness while Dad went to meet the 4WD ambulance and direct them to the scene.

The two ambos were wonderful. They were calm and constantly talked us through what they were doing. Hours drifted by and Mum was moved onto a stretcher, was medicated and braced in case of spinal injury. The decision was taken that she should be airlifted out and a helicopter was cued. More than 6 hours after the crash, the ambulance moved her up the track to a suitable clearing, an team of grey suited crewmen, paramedics and a doctor landed and my poor mother was finally swinging above the trees up into the chopper that would whisk her off to Canberra hospital.

Back at the house, we finished with the police interview and phoned Heath. By a wonderful coincidence, he was passing through Canberra and was at the hospital before she even landed. He was able to pass on the news to us that no major spinal or head injuries were found and no further damage had been done to her broken leg. Concussion, a large cut on her head, a sprained back and dozens of scrapes and bruises was the best news we heard all day. Dad and I were able to head out and cut a few more fire breaks before a late dinner, prattling conversation in relieved delirium and a heavy dreamless sleep.