"Hello, is this Mr. Hoover? Devin's Dad?"

That's how the phone call started. My mind started racing as I knew that Devin was on his way home. Alone. Via the county bus.

"Yes, this is me."

"Um, Hi. Devin is ok, but he's been hit by a car."

This coming from a business very near our house. Devin had gotten off the bus and walked around the front of the bus to cross the street... and been surprised to see a red pickup coming at him. He's only got banged up knees and a few scrapes, but I'll bet he never does that again. The rest of the story revolves around how he got home from the bus stop.

Home is only about 90 seconds away in a car or about a 5-7 minute walk. The person on the phone asked me if they could give him a ride home. I said that would be very kind, but could I talk to Devin to make sure he was OK? Well, unfortunately, the phone wasn't portable and Devin was still outside being treated by an EMT who happened to be there (remember that we live in a rural community). OK. I asked him to call me back when Devin was available. After about 5 minutes I called back. Devin was available and he said that he would rather get a ride and that he didn't feel up to walking unless he had to. I said that it would be fine and hung up.

So I called his Mom. Shawn happened to be about 20 minutes away watching Rory's soccer practice. She answered her phone and I broke the news gently. Letting her know that Devin was only scraped up a bit and that he was getting a lift home. She was worried, but not too much.

Then, I got another call.

"Hello, Mr. Hoover? This is the EMT who has treated your son. Since he is a minor, we can't just let him go; I'm legally obligated to turn him over to his parents, a Doctor or other emergency personnel." Oh bummer! "We want to transport him to the hospital in town."

Egads! That's about 40 minutes away from home! I thanked the EMT and let him know that I didn't want him transported and that his mom was only about 20 minutes away and that I just spoke with her. So I hung up and called Shawn.

Ring, ring, ring, voicemail.

Ring, ring, ring, voicemail.

Ring, ring, ring, voicemail.

erg!

Called the EMT back an let him know that I couldn't reach her and that I'd be there in an hour. He said that a CHP officer had arrived and that the officer was willing to transport Devin home and stay with him until one of his parents arrived. Okey dokey. I also talked to the driver of the truck who assured me that he had exchanged information with Devin and was very happy that he seemed to be alright.

The truth is that the EMT had handed Devin over to a local volunteer Fire Department who had transferred him to the Paramedic from the ambulance that had arrived and then they, in turn, had transferred him to the CHP officer.

About half-way home, I finally got in touch with Shawn, who then raced off to pick up Devin.

Whew.

All is well. He doesn't seem to have any back/neck or head trauma and the scrapes will heal. His book bag has a broken strap and his glasses got mangled (lucky we have spares!)

Devin insisted on wearing the same pants to school today so that he could show off the damage.

Whew again!