
In the spring of 1985 while moving to BC from Winnipeg, three of us in my family were in a single-vehicle accident along the Trans-Canada Highway, near the Alberta/Saskatchewan border.
It was the middle of the night. My dad was driving our beloved Volkswagen campervan when it blew a tire and rolled on the highway. I was fast asleep in the bed at the back and got tossed around like a sock in a dryer. Alvin was wearing a seat belt and asleep under a blanket in the passenger seat, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t adjusted for him but for my mother, which is how he ended up in the ditch.
Our belongings were strewn all over the highway. A semi truck drove by without stopping to help us, crushing our things before continuing along its way. I was not yet 13 years old but I remember the scene quite clearly, how angry I was at that truck. Then another truck came but this one stopped, and the driver helped my dad bring Alvin from the ditch to the cab. Alvin’s thigh was swollen like a balloon and they had to cut his jeans to release the pressure. A Greyhound bus filled with sleepy passengers came next and took us to the nearest hospital, which was too small to handle our situation. An ambulance then took us all the way to Regina General Hospital, where my dad was bleeding profusely from his head but was in too much shock to notice.
No major injuries, but Dad needed stitches in his head/ear, and Alvin broke his femur and needed stitches in his chin. The most I got was bruising and my glasses broke. Alvin ended up spending a month in traction, and I was bored and blind (no glasses!). The good people at the hospital let me make crafts (see the clothespin wishing wells?) and paint cartoons on the walls. I remember painting Garfield and Transformers. Even back then I was very myopic, painting wasn’t easy! But I had time.
Everyone was super-friendly, and Alvin had a great nurse — a really funny guy whose name escapes me. He shared a room with a kid about the same age who was hit by a car while riding his bicycle and in much worse shape than Alvin — he was lucky to be alive! The two boys were both strung up by wires and cables; they entertained each other during their long stay.
Alvin spent his 10th birthday in the hospital, so I believe the accident was early April 1985. After a month in traction, he came home to Winnipeg and spent a month in a body cast!
Even after a rather traumatic episode, I remember Regina and the hospital and the staff with fond memories. They took an awful situation and made it more than bearable.
Thanks, Regina!