SELF-CARE

When a First Date Takes a Precarious Turn

Replacing guilt with gratitude

Over the last few years, I’ve had many first dates. After each one, I write my date’s name in a list on my phone along with what I call the golden nugget of the date — something positive to take away from the experience.

I’ve found this to be a helpful way to remember each man I’ve met and to find the good in even the most mismatched of meetings.

My most recent first date, however, won’t need to be entered into my phone. I’m certain this one will stay with me for a long time. The golden nugget from this experience is far bigger than a simple one-line wrap-up.

Because my most recent date ended with my son picking me up at the hospital and my date on a bed in the ICU.

It was a beautiful Monday evening. Do all tragic stories begin this way? A beautiful evening. A sunny summer hike on a dirt path along the Mississippi River. Our moods were light. Inquisitive. We were getting to know each other.

We took a detour off the well-worn dirt path. We ventured down a gently sloped route to the river. We dipped our toes in the water. We remarked at the softness of the sand in the midst of all the rugged rocks nearby. We walked along the shore until we couldn't go any further.

And as we tried to find our way back up to the dirt path, the route became precarious. At this point along the river, the slope was no longer gentle. It was steep and rocky. Small pebbles tumbled down as he hiked in front of me.

A warning of things to come.

Somehow, my date managed to navigate the rocky slope back to the dirt path. But I couldn’t find a way that felt safe for me to reach it. I decided to turn around and return the way we’d come up.

My date didn’t want me to go alone. He began to descend back towards me.

As he did, the rocks under his feet rolled. He slid. He tumbled. He landed at my feet. He was bloodied. He was battered.

And he couldn't move his arms.

A call to 911 followed. A rescue. A ride on a boat and in an ambulance. A full-body CT scan. A meeting with a neurologist. An MRI. A surgery. A bed in the ICU.

All I suffered was a scrape on my knee and the trauma of watching my date tumble while trying to come and be with me.

The guilt I feel weighs on me like a heavy backpack.

I woke up the next morning with fully functioning arms. I could push myself out of bed. Wash my hair. Make myself breakfast. Text a friend. Scratch my nose.

My date can do none of these things.

His family and friends tell me they’re thankful I was with him. That I shouldn’t carry the weight of this. That it was an accident. That it wasn’t my fault.

I know they’re right. But it’s hard to set down this heavy backpack of guilt.

Yet I know feeling guilty is not going to help him. It’s not going to change what happened.

And if I’m going to find the golden nugget of this date, I’m going to have to find something positive. As I ponder this, the first thing that comes to mind is gratitude.

I’m grateful I had my phone in my pocket.

Grateful for the GPS technology that helped the rescuers find us.

Grateful for the calm, well-trained, and strong EMTs who carried us out.

Grateful for the Level 1 Trauma Center nearby.

Grateful for skilled surgeons and caring nurses.

Grateful my date has a wide network of family and friends who can be his arms until he can use his own.

And if I’m going to be honest, I’m grateful I didn’t get hurt, too.

So I will set down this heavy backpack of guilt and replace it with an armful of gratitude.

I’m certain this will be the most golden of nuggets I’ll ever find.

Kasey Sparks, © 2021

Put It To Rest’s first writing prompt contest is on digging through the bones: