Member-only story
Why This? Why Now? Why Me?
It’s hard to hold it together
It was 5 a.m., dark, and there was a steak knife in the road. I drove right over it in my cab, heard it clink and zing off into the darkness.
Danielle Dunne sat in the passenger seat. I was taking her to her kidney dialysis, like every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the last 2 years. Danielle was wild-haired and groggy. She usually fell asleep on the ride. When your kidneys go bad, you can’t take liquids. Imagine living in the desert and not being able to drink a glass of water.
At the dialysis center I got out of the cab to get Danielle’s walker from the back and then I heard it: the hiss of air streaming out the back rear tire. I looked down and saw the steak knife blade sticking out of the tire, the handle broken off. It sounds like bullshit, I know. Things like that don’t really happen, right? But it’s true. It was as if someone had done it on purpose.
When I opened the cab door she was still asleep. I shook touched her shoulder and said her name. No response. I shook her a bit, still no response.
I ran into the dialysis center and called for help. A couple nurses came out. One of them called 911. They threw a blanket down on the pavement and lifted her out and laid her down. Someone did mouth-to-mouth for a while, but it didn’t help.
