“Hassan! Hassan!” my sister, Sara, yelled at her mobile phone before shrieking at me, “Turn the car around now. Hassan got into a car accident. He’s saying the car flipped over a couple of times. They’re right after Dahban.” The words hit me like a thousand bullets. “What happened?” I asked, trying not to panic. “I don’t know. He hung up.” Sara replied. “Oh God, be kind,” I mumbled as my eyes searched for the nearest U-turn. My cousin, Fahd, was trying to calm me down when he himself, clearly, wasn’t calm. “Slow down, Bassem. Inshallah Khair. They’re going to be fine,” he kept repeating over and over again. My heartbeats were going faster than the speed of the car. “Rakan! How’s Rakan?” I asked knowing that no one was able to answer me.
We were going back home from Al-Dorra on Friday afternoon. Hassan and Rakan were riding in Rakan’s car while Sara, Fahd and his sister, Ghadeer were with me.
“That’s the car,” Sara screamed when she saw the wreck across the highway. “Rakan’s lying down on the ground. Rakan’s lying down on the ground,” she said and broke down into tears. I had lost my self-control by then and I started speeding as fast I thought I could. We had called the Red Crescent and they told us that they had just sent an ambulance to the scene of the crash. It did not take us more than five minutes to go over Dahban’s bridge and reach the site of the accident but it seemed as if they lasted for ages.
I parked the car and ran barefoot to where Hassan was. My heart flinched at the appearance of Rakan’s car. It was nearly leveled to the ground. All the windows were broken and the tires were twisted. Parts of the car and some of Hassan and Rakan’s belongings scattered on the side of the highway. Hassan had blood all over his hands and he was screaming hysterically. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine Inshallah,” I told him as I helped him to get inside the ambulance that had arrived a few seconds ago. They had laid Rakan on the gurney and put him inside. I wanted to get in and go with them but I had to drive my car. “Where are you taking them?” I asked the paramedic. “King Fahd General Hospital,” he said. I ran back to my car. The police officer at the scene stopped me and asked me a few questions that I did not pay much attention for but I remembered later. I took Hassan and Rakan’s wallets from him, jumped into my car, and started chasing the ambulance.
Sara called my parents and told them the horrifying news. She informed our uncles and cousins and everyone started reaching for their connections. Hassan called and told us that Rakan had lost consciousness and that they were going to Al-Slam hospital now because it the nearest hospital. My mother contacted The King Fahd Armed Forces Hospital and requested that they send an ambulance immediately to Al-Slam hospital. We were all praying and begging for the mercy and kindness of Allah. All I could think of was that this is not the time to break down. Keep it together and be strong. I must be strong. The road had never felt so long before.
At Al-Slam Hospital’s ER, my parents, all of our uncles and our aunt were waiting in addition to Hassan’s friends. The doctors fussed over Rakan while I remained with Hassan who was screaming uncontrollably, “Rakan, help Rakan.” The doctors had to give some Valium to Hassan in order to get him to calm down because they were unable to even look at his wounds or insert an IV cannula. “Leave me here and go with Rakan. Go take care of him,” Hassan yelled at me a few times. The KFAFH ambulance came less than five minutes after our arrival. They took Rakan because he was the one who seemed to be more dangerously injured while we took Hassan in Dad’s car. We broke a couple of traffic lights before arriving at the hospital.
Inside, Rakan’s father was waiting because we had called him and told him to head there as fast as possible because his son had been in a car accident. We were rushing Hassan in on a wheelchair when he threw himself on the floor telling us to ignore him and go save Rakan.
Hassan was seen by a couple of physicians and an initial survey of his wounds were made then he was sent to Radiology for multiple X-Rays and CT Scan of the head to rule out fractures and internal injuries. Rakan had an entire team of doctors working over him trying to resuscitate him and bring back his consciousness. He underwent more extensive investigations than Hassan did. After a few horrendous hours, the results were out. Neither Hassan nor Rakan sustained life-threatening injuries and they only suffer from hair fractures that do not require treatment and superficial lacerations and multiple contusions all over their bodies.
Rakan, however, did not regain his consciousness and he had slipped into a low grade coma. He was transferred to the ICU then for further investigations and better monitoring of his condition. I remained at the hospital when it was after midnight while most of the others had gone home. Hassan’s friend Khaled came back to stay with him which gave me the chance to keep going back and forth between his room and Rakan’s room in the ICU. His father was there reading Qur’an the entire night and speaking to him. All of us had tried speaking to him during the evening in hopes of boosting his brain cells to work fully again. My mother came back at 2 a.m. after a 3 hours break at our house. Realizing that there was nothing more I could do, I listened to my mother’s advice and I left the hospital at 3:30. I didn’t go home directly because I knew I could not sleep. I just kept driving around Jeddah while talking to a good friend of mine. I got back home just before dawn and I still was not able to sleep. I prayed Al-Fajr and asked God with all my heart that he bestows Rakan with health and relieves the ache of his family and ours.
Still awake, I switched open my laptop and started searching for the etiology and management of coma. Foolishly thinking that maybe there’s something that the doctors did not pay attention for or that I could figure out something they did not. After an hour of futile searches and a great sense of uselessness, I finally fell asleep.
I returned to the hospital at 11 in the morning. Hassan was doing much better although he required two more doses of Valium to keep him from thinking too much about Rakan and the accident. Rakan had shown some motor responses but he still did not open his eyes or say anything. Late afternoon as we were all drowning in our thoughts and prayers, Hassan’s mobile phone rang. He told us it was Rakan speaking.
After a minute of disbelief and amazement, we realized what this meant. I ran out of Hassan’s room to the ICU. When I entered the room and saw that Rakan had his eyes wide open and he greeted me, I fell to the ground and I started weeping. I collected my composure for a few seconds in which I exchanged a few words with Rakan telling him how happy I am to see him. People were waiting in line to see him so I exited the room and outside the ICU I started crying again like I have never cried in my life because for the very first time, they were tears of joy.
Hassan is back home today Alhamdellah and he’s doing much better. Rakan had been transferred from the ICU to a regular room and if he can pull himself together, he should be leaving the hospital in a few days Inshallah. Their bodies are sore all over but that’s expected.
Thank you to everyone who had said a prayer for either of them. To anyone who took the time to visit, to call, to ask, to worry, to think and just hope that they make it through.
Hassan and Rakan, I love you both. The words might sound pale in comparison to their deep and sincere meaning. I love you two to death, literally. I would give up my life for either of you instantly without hesitation because my life without you in it has no value. You have graced my world with your presence and I hope that I get to have you around for a very long time Inshallah.
Don’t you ever scare me again the way you did! I’ll never forgive you!
I think I can finally have a good night sleep.
Al7amdellah Rab Al3almen.
So happy birthdays to two wonderful women. May they grace my life with their presence forever.
