The TV in the corner blared but no one watched it. The faces in the emergency room at Denver General Hospital were etched in sadness. As I watched the people who sifted in and out of this cheerless room, memory took me back to a forgotten time and a hurried trip across the city to this same emergency room.

It was 13 years ago on a beautiful 4th of July day in 1983 that disaster brought us to the emergency room. My two eleven-year-old grandsons and I had spent the 4th of July with my youngest daughter Lois and her little girl, Shannon. We had gone swimming in the apartment complex pool, eaten supper at Chuck E. Cheese's, where the kids enjoyed running and playing in the noisy, rowdy restaurant. It was a perfect 4th of July until we went back to watch the fireworks that were close to Lois' home.

We were getting comfortable on the back patio. Lois went into the house to get two-year-old Shannon a stool. As she came out the night air was broken by the sound of breaking glass, a loud crash and screaming. Lois was crying. "Mom, help me, please help me," she moaned. Startled I jumped up. She was lying on the ground. Her face was cut and bleeding. I rushed to her side, but I didn't know how to help her. I've never been good in emergencies.

As I knelt down where she laid with her hands covering her face, anxiety and helplessness filled me. It was my 11-year-old grandson, Larry who was the hero of the day.

"Call 911," he told me. I don't remember hearing that emergency number before that time but I rushed to the phone, dialed 911 and gave the address to the voice on the other end of the line.

"We have to put a blanket over her," Larry said. "She's in shock and she's cold."

I obeyed his instructions, got a blanket out of the hall closet and tried to comfort my sobbing daughter.

In a short time we heard the sirens, and soon to my enormous relief, flashing lights broke the dark of the night as the ambulance pulled into the back yard. The attendants hurried to help my daughter. I've never been so grateful. The yard was full of curious neighbors. The three grandchildren stayed with a neighbor woman while the attendants put Lois on a stretcher and into the ambulance. I climbed in the back and experienced a trip through the city from the back of an ambulance. Denver looks different from the back of an emergency vehicle.

I waited in the emergency room for only a few minutes before my son-in-law joined me. He was working at American Furniture Co. and had come as soon as he heard about the accident. The rooms were full of people. We were told that the 4th of July is a busy time in an emergency room because there were many other accidents that night from firecrackers and fireworks. My daughter's face was cut, her eye was swelled and black. The hard working personnel at Denver General Hospital treated her and she was soon released.

It took a trip to the emergency room at Denver General Hospital for me relive that experience.