Joey

If you're hoping to read one of my usual light-hearted posts--well--you're outta luck. Today will have a definitely more serious tone. As a disclaimer, I must say that I wasn't present when these events occurred, but the details have been relayed to me by my mother and younger brother, Marcos.

On Monday evening, my mother, father, Marcos, Tricia, and Marcos' friend, Kyle B., were sitting on our front porch enjoying a cool evening breeze and after a few hours in the pool. The phone rang and Mom answered only to have M.J., Joey's longtime girlfriend, screaming unintelligibly in her ear. Exasperated, Mom handed the phone to Marcos and he attempted to calm her down. Eventually, she was able to communicate her news: Joey had been electrocuted and was being evacuated via helicopter to Del Rio.

Shocked, Marcos dropped the phone and repeated the news to my family. Chaos erupted and my mother, a woman with a serious cardiac history, swayed on her feet before collapsing into a chair. Kyle B. immediately picked up his cell phone and dialed the sheriff's department hoping to get any tiny bits of information available. Dad and Mom ran into the house to change out of their swimming clothes while Tricia started having a panic attack. Dad, Marcos, and Kyle B. worked their phones until they found out that the initial information they had received from Joey's girlfriend had been somewhat exaggerated. (Not her fault, though. She was given bad info by a fellow rig worker.)

They learned that Joey was already on his way home and was doing OK. His rig boss, J.J., drove Joey home, and as soon as the car stopped in the front yard, Joey staggered from the backseat and went straight to Mom. He threw his arms around her in a bear hug and wouldn't let go. At that point, Mom knew that something terrible must have happened to him.

J.J. approached Dad and began to relay the story of what had happened to my brother. It appears that Joey who is twenty (just barely) picked up an electric cord and was electrocuted. The current surged across his chest, and instantly he shouted, "MANUEL!"

(Manuel is Joey's best friend of some fifteen or sixteen years. They are as close as brothers and work together on the rigs. Incidentally, Manuel is J.J.'s little brother. This crew of rig workers is essentially a family.)

Joey's pained shout garnered the attention of the men in the crew, and instantly, Manuel ran to Joey to save his best friend's life. J.J. stopped him before he could make contact and I can only imagine how excruciating it must have been to know that you can't reach out and just yank the cord from your friend's hand. Joey was hit across the chest with some implement and the cord fell from one hand. Eventually, they were able to free the cord from his second hand.

Joey sucked in a deep breath and said Manuel's name again before falling straight backwards, stiff as a board. He was dead. Manuel and J.J. ran to him and began assessing the situation while other workers called 911. CPR was attempted, but Joey wouldn't breathe. Manuel grabbed the shoulders of Joey's shirt and roughly slammed him against the ground, shouting at him, urging him not to die, to breathe. Joey's shoulders met the ground, and unbelievably, he inhaled a ragged breath. The first words out of his mouth were, "Mom. I want my Mom."

The ambulance arrived and Joey was checked out, but because he is an adult and was able to answer the pertinent questions regarding his level of consciousness, he was allowed to refuse treatment. Ah, the machismo of young men.

I have to admit that as I'm writing this, I am crying. I can't really explain why. I guess it's that whole I-could-have-lost-my-brother-bit. Being the older sister, I've always assumed I would go first. I mean, I've had so many health issues that I've just kind of accepted that I'm not exactly gonna win any awards for longevity of life, you know? I think it's also hard for me to realize that I can't be there every time something happens to a member of my family. As we get older, we make these decisions to move away and start our own lives because-well--that's what we're supposed to do. But...well...I don't know. I suppose this is the caveat.

Fuck. I hate this. This is just another one of those "adulthood" episodes. It's like the people in my closest circles (including me) are just running down the list and checking off those important milestones. Graduation? Check. Moving away? Check. Having a baby? Check. Check. Check. Check. Buying a house? Check. Engaged? Check. Planning a wedding? Check. Watching your lifelong goal of publishing a novel become more of a reality? Three-quarter check. Younger brother gets full-time job? Check. Family member almost dies? Check.

Well. I feel better. Sorta. Somewhat. I'm sure I'm just following the pattern of processing troubling info, right? I don't know. Sigh.

I need some caffeine and my journal.

Catch you on the flip-flop....