Job said “that which I feared the most, has come upon me”. And it did. Again. In the late evening, December 11, 1981, I received yet another difficult visit, this time James’s nephew was the caller. My handsome husband, my defiant “rock”, had been shot as he was leaving a club in Dallas. James and some buddies had gone to a bar after work for a few beers and harsh words were exchanged with several men inside the club. Later, walking through the parking lot to the truck, James was accosted by the same group of men, waiting for him. Being a typical West Dallas “tough guy”, James elected to “arm and defend” himself with a sledge hammer grabbed from the bed of his truck. At that moment one of the men took aim and fired a 38 caliber revolver at my husband.
James was taken by ambulance to Parkland Hospital for emergency treatment; a gunshot wound to his chest. Stark terror electrified my heart and mind as we rushed to the hospital, hurtling straight toward the unknown. With teeth chattering, and trembling with dread, my stomach and heart were being shredded by the now familiar claws of fear. Oh Lord, what would I have to face? Terrified to the very core of my being, I begged God to spare my husband’s life. To be without him was unthinkable. NO! I screamed in my heart.
When I arrived, James was in the emergency room gasping for breath, a bullet lodged in his chest. Swearing in agony as a chest tube was inserted in his collapsed lung, turned white as a ghost. Over and over I asked God to let him live…..thankfully, He did.
After knowing that he would survive, I prayed “God, give him total recall of the awful pain of that wound, from this day forward”. I felt that would be an appropriate remedy for his Friday and Saturday night excursions, under the circumstances. James came home with a somewhat different attitude after spending a week in the hospital, and as the weekends rolled around he would come straight home. Once he said, “I drove by the club today and sat there a while, staring at the door”. I turned my head away, smiled, and said nothing. He finished by saying, “and then I hung a quick right and headed for the house!” It was almost funny. The shooting was a close call, way too close for comfort. I was very thankful to have my husband alive and in one piece beside me…and I think he was grateful to be there.
Unfortunately, retaining perfect recall of that event, as well as the other losses we had endured, I became the author of a world of paranoia. Constantly overcome by apprehension and heart-sinking dread, I inwardly suffered with obsessive worry for several more years. If family or friends came by the house unannounced, the breath would leave my body. Terrified to answer, I’d stand stiffly, staring at the telephone as it rang, despising the high-pitched scream spewing out of it. But needing to know, I would have to pick up the receiver. One of the kids might be hurt….or worse. I worried constantly. Loud noises would set my feet into an instantaneous flurry and my brain into a frenzy of anxious kinetic activity. I was the proverbial “basket case”.
Forever cautioning the kids, “call when you get there”, or “call before you leave”…I would yap incessantly behind their backs like a demented crane. If someone was ten or fifteen minutes late, or had failed to call home, I was ready to dial “911” and begin calling all the local hospitals. I had learned to surreptitiously analyze every member of the family, making sure I could describe the clothing each one was wearing when they left the house. I knew how long it took for James to get to work and back home….the kids to get to and from school…..how long it took to go to the store. I would write my grocery lists according to the way the store was laid out, then estimate how long it should take to complete the shopping. I even studied the kids bodies, noting any new identifying marks, a small bruise, a scratch…just in case. I guess it would be fair to say, I drove the whole darn family nuts… not to mention scorching of my own brain. You know the commercial that shows an egg frying in a pan and says “this is your brain on drugs”? You should see an out of control brain on fear! As I tried to keep track of everyone all the time…..I became the blind woman, in a dark closet, looking for the black cat, that probably wasn’t there. But it was there. And I knew it was waiting patiently to catch me off-guard. Waiting for the opportunity to pounce and capture it’s prey….I knew …it was there!
