(Ir)rational

As we grow and learn in this world we often develop likes and dislikes.  Often these likes and dislikes stem from strong emotions regarding the subject.  For example:  from the time I was about 3 years old I wanted to play the flute.  That's a pretty young age to want something so specific, but I associated the flute with my (then) favorite Aunt, Debbie, and I wanted to be just like her.  Now I play the flute, studied it in college, and teach it to other aspiring musicians-- I still associate it with my Aunt.  Along with these likes and dislikes we often develop fears.  These fears are also usually tied to strong emotions.


About 4 or 5months after the accident I was home alone with Mr. E.  He was napping and I was engaged in some household chore or another.  We were living in an apartment that was part of a large complex.  Suddenly the quiet afternoon was interrupted by the rapid thump-thump-thump sound that only the spinning blades of a helicopter make.  I couldn't help it, I started hyperventilating and crying, the sound was so close.  I looked out my bedroom window and saw the helicopter coming closer and it was obvious it was landing near my apartment.  Then I noticed the life flight emblem.  My breathing and crying became more frantic.  Despite my belief that you should never wake a sleeping baby, I ran to Mr. E's room and pulled him from his crib.  I remember repeatedly saying "they can't take my baby, he's mine, you can't take him."   After several minutes of crying, and shouting at the helicopter that couldn't hear me, and rocking my now upset baby, the logical part of my brain took over and I called Lawrence (I think he was at work) three times in a row-- our signal that something is wrong.  He called me back talked a little sense into me and told me to call my parents.  I finally called my mom and she came and picked us up.  I'm pretty sure I was still hysterical when she got there, even though the helicopter was already gone.  Shortly after arriving at my parents' house I was able to calm down and the whole incident seemed a bit irrational to me.  I was so terrified that the helicopter was going to take my baby away and I wouldn't see him alive again.  But really, how irrational was it?

Even though I don't clearly remember the events immediately following the accident, and I certainly don't remember the helicopter taking Ethne away, that is what happened.  I remember my little girl, alive and trying to open a container of yogurt in the back seat, then I remember snippets of my own helicopter ride, then waking up in the hospital knowing that she was gone.  The helicopter took her and I never saw her alive again.  I still have problems with helicopters.  It doesn't matter if they are life flight or not, I have a small panic attack whenever I hear a helicopter close by.  It used to be worse, but since we moved we hear them flying over our house more often than we used to, so the panic has decreased some.  The logical part of my brain still realizes that panicking every time I hear a helicopter isn't exactly rational, but I can't help it.

Another fear that triggers a bad reaction is cement trucks.  Again, I don't remember the truck hitting the car, but they still frighten me and especially when I am driving.  This can be a problem since I live in Utah and there is always road construction and therefore a fair amount of cement trucks on the road.  I have learned to deal when they are far away, but I really panic if there is one right by me (in front, behind, or on either side).  I have learned to pull over when possible to avoid being too close to a cement truck, but when it's not possible I have to talk myself through and will often drive slowly to allow myself some space from the cement truck.  The latter solution may anger some other drivers, but it's far safer than me having a full on panic attack while driving.

Unfortunately this accident left me permanently scarred, both physically, mentally, and emotionally.  But I am learning to live with all my scars.