by William Janz

 

   Phil Hunt has used up a lot of laughs in his life.  He'll tell you that he has had more than his share.

 

   For years, he trained car salesmen, which required a sense of humor and the ability to get out of the way of people kicking tires.  Recently, Hunt, 42, finished a humorous look at the business, in book form, called "No Thanks, I'm Just Looking."

 

   In November, though, Hunt stopped laughing for a while.  His youngest daughter, Dani, 9, fell three floors and broke her forehead, both cheeks, both temples, her nose and a vertebra.

 

   Dani nearly died and when she came our of the coma in the hospital and wondered what happened, her father told her she had fallen three floors.

 

   She said, "I'm glad it wasn't 10 floors, daddy."

 

   Spoken like a true Hunt.  After returning to school recently, she said, "even the eighth graders are talking to me."

 

   We're going to get out of the way and let Hunt take over the rest of this column about his daughter.  A good writer, Hunt wrote this, tears streaming down his face:

 

   "She had yet to make her mark on the world; after all, she was only 9 years old.  Her life was filled with puppies and butterflies.  Like any 9-year-old, she was considered a pest by her older sisters.  Always underfoot, flirting with their boy friends, demanding attention and usually receiving it.   A typical 9-year-old, you might say.

 

   "You remember nine, don't you?  Life was about three blocks wide, safe, warm and secure.  Life was school and homework, shopping with Mom and sleeping at your friends house.  Life was soft and warm, like your little dog, Duffy.  And trick-or-treating and trying to keep the boys from kissing you at recess.

 

   "Pussywillows and cattails, that was what being 9 was all about, remember?  Chasing frogs and watching bugs crawl. 

 

   "But every now and then, an innocent 9-year-old's life is torn apart.  We know these things happen, of course, we read about them every day in the newspapers.  But these things happen to other people, not us.  Thank God, never to us.

 

   "Dannielle Beth Hunt, my bright-eyed, innocent, happy little daughter, with a smile that could melt ice cubes and dimples you could get lost in, is torn out of her safe, secure little world and thrown onto a floor as cold and hard as all of tomorrows headlines.  And into a world of pain and suffering.  And terror.

 

   "Little Dani Beth is innocently playing in the hallway outside her apartment door when she leans against a railing to wave to a friend.  A railing that she has leaned on countless times in the past.  Leaned against and trusted.

 

   "But unknown to Dani, the railing she's grown to trust has been vandalized.  Some unthinking idiot has torn it loose from its supports and left it looking to all the world as if it can still be trusted, like an old friend.

 

   "You damned fool, may God forgive you.  But I don't have it in me.

 

   "I only wish he'd been there.  I wish he'd heard the agonizing scream as she fell, landing on her head on the cold concrete some 30 feet below.

 

   "Dani was rushed to a nearby hospital.  The experts agreed; she was indeed fortunate to be alive.  As Dani is rushed from the X-ray department headed for intensive care, I catch my first glimpse of her.  I'm simply not prepared for what I see.  Her beautiful smile is twisted into a grimace of pain.  Her face is swollen beyond recognition, a mass of bruises.

 

   "Dani's battered body is hooked up to various life-support systems and monitoring devices.  The doctors can't help her, but they can observe her fight for life.  Their years of training are useless now, their skills to no avail.  Like the rest of us, they're forced to be just bystanders.  From now on, it's strictly one-on-one.  Dani against the demons.  Hang on sweetheart, just hang on.

 

   "Why Dani?  Why an innocent little 9-year-old?  Where were you when this happened, Lord?  You don't take coffee breaks, do you?  Surely the wars around the world don't require all your time, do they?  Couldn't you take the time to protect an innocent, God-loving child?

 

   "But then, in that quiet room, a sudden thought occurs to me; this was no act of God: This was a human act.  This wasn't God's fault, this was your fault.  Yes, you, my-rail-busting friend.  This wasn't the hand of God; this was the handiwork of a non-thinking, non-caring human.

 

   "No one could be expected to survive that kind of fall without someone's help.  No one could live throught such pain without someone holding her hand.  How could I ask, 'where were you, Lord?'  He was busy, all right.  He was busy catching my daughter.

 

   "As her family gathers around her in the hospital, Dani's small hand clutches mine.  Her only request is put in the form of a whispered confidence.  As I bend over to hear her mumbled question, my tears drop onto the clean, white sheets.  As I straighten up again, the tears still flow, but they flow over my smiling face.

 

   "No, Dani, hospital rules don't allow visits from little dogs.  Duffy will have to wait till you come home.

 

   "As we leave the quiet hospital room, hugging each other, only one emotion emerges from my tired mind.....gratitude.  Thank you, Lord.  Thank you very much. 

 

   "Oh, and by the way.  Nice catch, lord...........nice catch."

  

 

 

 

   P.S.  I didn't mention this in the above article, but the Lord had a little help in saving Dani's life.  My quick-thinking daughter Joy, who was 17 at the time, sprang into action.  She made Dani as comfortable as possible, called the ambulance, informed family and friends and generally took control of the situation.  Without her fast response in a crisis situation, she would no longer have a younger sister.  And all of us would not have Dani with us today.

   I know I've mentioned it countless times in the past, Joy, but I was remiss in not including your name in the above article, and for that, I am heartily sorry.  If I may, I'd like to say "Thank you" one more time. 

From the bottom of my heart!!