Part 2:

And by weird, I mean the things that happen after an event like this. By the way, if you have not read the first post, you might want to start there or this will not make as much sense, if it makes sense at all.

First, it is that my mother and father-in-laws are going to be the first family to get to me at the hospital. Before them, I have actually been waiting for about 15 minutes when the phone in Trauma 7 rang. I opted not to answer it since I was just the guy in T7. The nurse came in and answered the phone only to ask if I was Tom and to hand me the phone?!

It was Bob, my Brother-In-Law (BIL) and he was not happy. Bob and I have not always seen eye to eye and I think a lot of that had to do with being the big brother of my wife (by like 7 years) and knowing how things in the world work and having met me as a long(ish) haired, punk kid in college. When Bob had kids and his life was a mess with kids toys everywhere (you earned it Bob) we were so able to connect. Step on a block or two, or have your sweet little baby tell others that you pass gas in the car, it makes us a lot more human. We have been great since he had the kids. Bob is really upset about what has happened to me and my family. So am I, but this is the first time since it has ended emotion has entered. And his is true family emotion. Anger. Frustration. Vengeance.

The next thing is a nurse who comes in to see what is going on (I guess). As I mentioned, Tim was great. I was naked and sitting under a blanket, sort of on my side thinking, 'Well, my In-laws are going to be here soon and I do not need this...' Tim understood. I asked him for some scrubs to put on and he was quick to take care of me, noting that they are great to lounge around in when not at work. The nurse entered and was deeply concerned that 'the patient' had been dismissed. When I turned around and she saw all of the bandages on my arm she realized I was the patient. And then she looks at me with a strange, caring, almost proud expression.

This is bigger than I think.

Soon after the in-laws my parents arrive. My mom is so scared at what has happened she actually is mad at me. Not out loud, just mad. We have all seen this in our parents. It took me a few days to understand but now it makes a little more sense. I am her baby. Forever. Think about your kids. They are young now but as they get older we do not think they are less 'ours'. Maybe even more ours. Nan and Bill are scared. Their achiever, overweight, two kids and a wife son is not to get his car stolen, with his kids in it, and then get shot.

The ride home from the hospital is another gift from above. It is a chance to ride with my parents and let them get it out. But instead, they sat quiet and understood I needed to get it out. I talk. I am not sure what I was saying but I am a talker. I need to get it out. This writting is part of that.

As we all get home, it is becoming real. My wonderful 4 year old has come home and is watching a movie. As a side on how he is doing and why I need to keep an eye in him, he has noted that today is a weird day and that parents and grandparents alike are freaked out so he does what a smart little guy does...picks on the helper Michele (yes, the Michele from the beginning of the story) to get to watch a movie that we have seen so many times it WAS on the no watch list. Today, anything is ok.

I am telling the story to my parents, in-laws and pastor, with props to add to the tale. I have the jeans I was wearing with the bullet hole. The boxers (clean, just like when mom always used to say wear clean underpants cause you just never know) with two bullet holes. Why only one hole in the jeans? After everything the bullet has gone through, it has only enough energy left to get through me and it stops after my boxers, trapped in my jeans. When I had arrived at the boys and jumped out of the car, the bullet had fallen to the ground in front of the Trailblazer. As the police had arrived, someone noticed it and they were able to mark the area.

Back to the house. As I had left the hospital, some of the folks were clapping and smiling and I had thought it was because I was ok and just blessed. Ok, so it still had not hit home. Now, at home, it is hitting home. It is just about 5:00 or so, only three hours after all of this began.

The first call is from the Indianapolis Star. This is appropriate as that is where I had worked for almost five years in sales up until just June of last year. The person that calls is Raygan. I know who she is and after explaining who I am we begin. Telling the story to her and hearing her reactions of disbelief, shock and amazement, it is hitting home. We finish with the understanding that she and a photographer are going to come to the house to get all of the details from me in person.

I realize now that this story is going to be in the paper Monday and I want to let a friend that still works there know and tell him I am ok. Many will look to him for more info as we still stay in touch. As David answers the phone, I ask him to get to his computer as he will want to get to the website after we talk. "David, first, everyone is ok. Listen to what I am going to tell you but remember, we are all ok." I proceed to tell him the story and to say he is shocked would be an understatement. David is a wonderful man with a young daughter and a great wife. This is not the kind of thing that happens to a friend. After I am done, David is almost unable to speak. I tell him that as people see the story word will travel fast and to just let everyone know we are ok. Again. And with that, I need to make another call to Ed from where I work now. Ed is no less shocked than David and is left with the same sort of freakish silence after I tell the story. All I ask of him is to let folks know I will not be in for a few days but that I will check in Monday sometime.

As I get off my cell phone with Ed, my home phone rings. WTHR-13. They have heard and want to come do a story. Ok.

The Star is at the door. Come in. The photographer is here. Join the fun. Now I should add a bit about the photographer. I had seen him for years coming and going at the paper and he is a character. He is tall with the longest dreadlocks I have ever seen in my life but he is also very kind. Have you ever looked at someone and just known they are nice? That is Mpozi. The boys think the hair is really cool and he is more than happy to amaze them, giving my boys a smile.

After the interview with the Star and Mpozi clicking off photos, they are about to leave when he confirms a picture to make sure it is ok. It is a picture of my friend and pastor with his hand on my 7 year olds back, saying good bye as he prepares to head home. You cannot see my sons face so I approve it.

Then the TV stations start calling and showing up.