The Ghost Trailer

The Ghost Trailer

Not today, devil. I’m not done fighting yet.

The weight of the Carbondale ICU never truly leaves me.

Every time I push through those heavy glass doors and step back into the outside world, part of it follows me. The beeping monitors. The smell of antiseptic. The whispered prayers. The grief of families standing in that hard space between hope and heartbreak.

Today was no different.

The afternoon heat hit me the moment I stepped outside. It felt close to 100 degrees, maybe hotter coming off the blacktop. My clothes were already damp from praying, walking, waiting, and carrying more than I wanted to admit. By the time I reached my car, the steering wheel was hot beneath my hands, and all I wanted was to get home.

Then the highway tried to take me, too.
Without warning, the car started fighting me. It swayed hard, back and forth, crossing toward the center line as oncoming traffic flashed by too close for comfort.

I gripped the wheel with both hands, knuckles tight, heart pounding, trying not to overcorrect. I tapped the brakes carefully, forcing myself to stay calm.

Then a warning flashed across the dashboard:
"Trailer sway detected. Vehicle out of control. Reduce speed immediately."

There was only one problem.

I wasn’t pulling a trailer.

No trailer. No load behind me. Just me, the road, and everything I had carried on my heart out of that ICU.

Still, I listened. I eased off the gas and kept tapping the brakes until the speed dropped below 40 miles per hour. Almost immediately, the car settled. The swaying stopped. The road released its grip.

I pulled onto the shoulder, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and sat there with both hands still locked on the wheel. For a moment, I didn’t move. I just breathed.

I reset the controls. Checked what I could. Let my heart slow down. Let the silence remind me I was still here.

Then I pulled back onto the road and headed home.

A little shaken. A lot grateful. And fully aware that I had been given another tomorrow.

Not today, devil. God's not done with me yet.

PS - this morning, I asked many of you for prayers. Thank you for praying.