Hero

I want to share a story with you about my HERO.

Last August, our family was supposed to go camping. We made arrangements for a campsite and then went to help a friend who was getting her house ready to sell. We intended to return to the canyon and set up camp that evening. When we arrived at the campsite, however, our space was occupied. We were frustrated but decided that we could just come back in the morning and find a picnic spot. I remember being dissappointed because my entire family was coming the next day to celebrate my mom's birthday and I wanted to have a spot by the river.

The next morning, we headed up the canyon. It is my most favorite place to be. I remember spending time in the canyon as a girl and I want my kids to build memories like that too. For those of you who haven't been to American Fork Canyon, it is gorgeous.

As we passed the ranger's station and headed up the canyon, I noticed a lot of bike riders coming down the canyon at top speed. After the we passed the tenth one, I said, "Those guys need to slow down before somebody gets hurt!" I admit that it was the mother in me speaking. What we didn't know is that there was a race taking place. Hundreds of riders were headed over the Alpine Loop and down American Fork Canyon.

A little farther up the canyon, we saw some riders on the ground. Brady said, "Does it look like anyone needs help?" I saw a couple of people helping a rider up. His shirt was torn open and I cringed because the road rash looked painful. Then, I saw a man in the road ahead. He was laying face down and something about him didn't look right. His body seemed awkward somehow. I noticed blood starting to run across the road and I yelled, "Brady! He's not moving!" Just then someone came up to our car yelling for help.I started praying. I always do this when I see someone is hurt. I pray over and over in my mind. Maybe it keeps me calm.

~Let me just interject here and tell you something about my husband. If someone needs help, he does not hesitate. We get a lot of chances to help people in our church. I have watched him get up in the night to give priesthood blessings, sit with elderly widows who miss their sons, check blood sugar and vitals for people who just aren't feeling well, examine knees, necks and ankles, take out stitches for someone who doesn't have insurance, stop and carry groceries in for the neighbor. The list goes on and on. So when he parked the car and told me to get his bag, it felt like we were just doing what we always do. I didn't realize at that point, that our lives would be changed forever.

Back to the story:

I started digging through the trunk of our car. Out came the tent, the camp chairs, a sleeping bag. And finally I found the green medic bag that Brady takes everywhere. I ran it over to him. He was on his knees getting ready to become part of a miracle. Several people were now standing around the biker. There was a lot of shouting. We would later find out that 3 of them were also from medical backgrounds. It only took seconds to figure out that the rider had hit into an SUV.

I knew that I couldn't do anything as far as keeping the rider alive but the canyon was narrow and the traffic was a mess. I went up to a man who had started to direct traffic and we decided to ask the people coming down the canyon to move over to the shoulder of the road so we could clear a path for the ambulance by sending the other lane of traffic up the canyon. I started to direct traffic and someone got in my car and drove it a little farther up the canyon. (with my kids inside)

I saw a blond woman on a bike stop and stare at the rider. "Is that Dave?" She asked and then she started to sob. Her friends held her and led her farther down the canyon. Some of the riders sped through the scene, splattering blood as they went. People had their cameras out. Other riders stopped and watched. One of them almost jerked a rider off of his bike when he went to drive over the blood. "Have some respect!" He said and then they both started yelling, adding to the chaos. It was about then that, my eyes fell on the owner of the SUV. He was standing just outside of the group that surrounded the rider. Tears streaming down his face.

Every so often, I would look to see what Brady was doing. They turned the rider over and there were audible gasps from the crowd. The man was seriously hurt. He was cut along his neck and down into his chest. I noticed the way he was breathing. It seemed like his body was sending every ounce of strength to his lungs. I could tell that Brady was working on the bleeding while another person was at the man's head, holding his jaw.

I heard the sirens and felt a wave of relief sweep over me. As the ambulance came up the canyon, I made my way over to the driver of the SUV. I can't explain it but I felt an overpowering urge to hug him and tell him it would be OK. His tears got my sleeve wet. He kept saying, "I had to stop. The trailer in front of me stopped... I was going to hit it... I didn't know they were so close behind me." As I hugged this stranger, my eyes met those of a teenage boy. His son. He just stood next to his father, not saying anything. I think he was in shock.

"I had to stop." The man said again, and I told him that I knew he had to stop.

"Is he going to die?" He asked. Then, I stepped back, stood as tall as I could and said, "It's going to be OK. My husband is a combat medic. He knows how to stop the bleeding. Look, they put in an IV. He's still breathing." Then the man let out a deep sigh.

I hugged him again and told him that nobody blamed him. That it was just an accident and everyone knew that he had to stop. It was clear to me that this man was hurt just as badly as the rider on the ground. Only in a different way.

Later, after the ambulance was leaving, Brady and I gathered up all of the stuff that I had thrown out of the trunk. Then we started to walk up the middle of the road to our car. The sound of the life flight helicopter echoed through the canyon. I looked up and saw faces. People in cars sitting and waiting for the road to be clear. They looked at us. One man shook his head up and down and smiled. As if he was saying "good job."

Our kids had been in the car the entire time. "Were you scared?" I asked.

"No they said at the same time. Then Lexa said, "Mom, we know that when someone is hurt, Dad goes to help."

As we drove up the canyon, passed the campground, to a picnic spot, I realized something. God needed my husband to be at that spot in the canyon that morning. If we had been able to camp the night before, Brady wouldn't have been where he needed to be. Later, when when Brady was washing the blood off of his hands, I said another prayer. Thank you for my husband. I'm so proud of him. When we told my family what had happened, I loved how they reacted. They were proud of him but it was also clear that they expected nothing less from him. He is a hero to them just because he loves them unconditionally.

Update:

The rider's name is Dave Collins. He is from Arizona. Brady visited Dave in the hospital while Dave was still in a coma. Dave made a miraculous recovery and returned home. On March 3, 2010, Brady was awarded the military hero award at the annual Red Cross Local Heroes Luncheon in Salt Lake City, Utah.

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The people at the red cross arranged a special surprise. Dave was at the luncheon. It was amazing.

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I loved meeting Dave's wife. I'm sure she would never have let him give up and has a lot to do with why he is nearly fully recovered today.

When Brady was first told that he was chosen to receive the award, he was not happy. He kept telling me that he wasn't a hero and that he wasn't the only person at the scene and he wished he knew the names of the other men who helped save Dave's life. He wanted them to be honored as well. Thank you American Red Cross! Brady was also able to meet Brandon Judd (far left) and Steven Bleyl (far right). These were the men who helped at the scene.

I believe in miracles and in heros.
xoMJ