On Aug. 30, 2002, I received a phone call at work, a little after 4 p.m. The caller told me that a teenage boy had just shot himself at an address that I knew was my son’s best friend’s house.

I was frantic when I left work, thinking my son’s best friend had shot himself. But when I arrived as close to the house as I could get because of all the traffic, and was running across the yard, someone yelled at me and said, "Hey, Sis, they already have Landon in the ambulance."

I remember stopping dead in my tracks and turning to the person to ask, "Who?" And then the person repeated, "Landon. They have him in the ambulance."

I took off running again, thinking I was going to faint every step of the way. I made it to the ambulance and was beating on the back doors as people were pulling me away, telling me I needed to go to the hospital now. I ran back across the yards to the friend who had driven me there. She then drove me to the hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, Landon was in the emergency room, and I was not allowed to go anywhere near where he was. So, I paced and paced for what seemed like an eternity before the doctor came out to tell me that my son was in stable condition but that he had lost a lot of blood and that Life Flight from Children’s Hospital of Illinois at OSF Saint Francis had been called and was on the way.

I paced again until Life Flight arrived. I felt so helpless. My son was hurt, and there was nothing I could do. The doctor said I could see Landon for a few seconds as they got ready to put him on the helicopter.

As they wheeled him out of the emergency room area, he looked so pale. I told my son he was going to Peoria and that I would be there in about two hours. I then left that hospital to go home to collect a few things I needed and wait for a friend to pick me up and take me to Peoria.

Upon my arrival at OSF Saint Francis, I was taken to a waiting area and given a beeper and told if they needed to talk to me, they would page me. I sat and paced for what seemed like forever when the beeper went off. I then learned from an operating room nurse that Landon was still in surgery and was fighting as hard as he could. I felt numb as I hung up the phone.

After another wait, Dr. Richard Pearl came in and asked me to step into a room where we could talk. I stood up to walk over to the room, but my legs felt like rubber. All I could think was that they only take you into a private room to tell you bad news. I heard only about every third word the doctor said. I was waiting for him to tell me my only son did not make it. Then I heard the word "stable." And then, "But he is not out of the woods yet."

From there, I was taken to the intensive care unit, where they let me see him. As I walked into the room and saw all the tubes and wires, I was so scared. I stood by his bedside stroking his hair as he opened his eyes and asked a question that no mother should have to try to answer. As a tear rolled down his cheek, he asked, "Mom, am I going to die?" I could not answer that question. I just shook my head and had to leave the room.

I made many trips back to his bedside the rest of that night and the following day. I would just stand there watching his vital signs on the monitors and touching him. But I knew he was on the road to recovery when they took the tube out of his mouth and he looked at me and said, "Mom, I want my sister."

I have so many people to thank – from the friends who stood by his side to try to keep him awake until help arrived, to the person who wheeled him to my car to go home five days later. But I have a very special thanks for the Galesburg ambulance crew, the trauma team at Monmouth Community Medical Clinic, the Life Flight crew, the trauma team at Children’s Hospital/OSF Saint Francis and the blood donors who donated the blood that saved my son’s life. They are all angels sent from heaven. I personally thank them all.

Sharon