Things have been a little rough around these parts. My husband's still unemployed (though going to school) so I've been working extra hard to keep things going. Making spindle after spindle, working against deadlines and emergency spindle orders (OK, really, there is no such thing as an "emergency spindle order"...get it together, dudes)--one day running into another. Last Wednesday, I was trying to paint just one more whorl before finally heading off to bed. The phone sitting next to me rang. It was three o'clock in the morning. I just stared at it. Phones aren't supposed to ring at that hour. Nothing's supposed to make noise at that hour. This is why I like working late at night.
I picked it up, didn't recognize the number, set it down still ringing. Picked up my brush. Put down my brush. Answered the damn phone.
It was the call all parents dread. The one where the stranger on the other end says your child has had an accident. The one that makes you will your entire body through the phone because if you're just THERE, it will somehow all be okay. The call you're never, ever prepared for.
In a string of days--some not so good, some better, others just so so--it was a really. bad. day. I knew it was bad because my older son, my first born, has had bad things happen to him before and I didn't know until later because he didn't want to worry me. I knew it was bad when the paramedic said they were going to the hospital thirty minutes away rather than the one right here in town. They were going to the hospital with a level I trauma center.
I somehow got from here to there. I can't even begin to explain that day, that morning. It was bad. Just really bad. Terrifying and heart-wrenching and I can't even think about it without feeling it all over again. But I don't want to stop thinking about it because it was also a very, very good day. It was the day my son didn't die. Well, he did but he didn't stay that way.
I'm so incredibly grateful for that. To have my son for another day and the next and the next.
This kid (who's a grown man, but always my kid) , who hugs me every single time he sees me, invited me to hug him tonight as I prepared to leave his hospital room. Instead, I kissed his one hand that's not covered in bandages. To hug him would hurt him and he's got enough pain with second and third degree burns over 45-50 percent of his body. Plus whatever other effects from having 46,000 volts of electricity course through his body.
Go hug someone you love. For me. For my son Dave.
I picked it up, didn't recognize the number, set it down still ringing. Picked up my brush. Put down my brush. Answered the damn phone.
It was the call all parents dread. The one where the stranger on the other end says your child has had an accident. The one that makes you will your entire body through the phone because if you're just THERE, it will somehow all be okay. The call you're never, ever prepared for.
In a string of days--some not so good, some better, others just so so--it was a really. bad. day. I knew it was bad because my older son, my first born, has had bad things happen to him before and I didn't know until later because he didn't want to worry me. I knew it was bad when the paramedic said they were going to the hospital thirty minutes away rather than the one right here in town. They were going to the hospital with a level I trauma center.
I somehow got from here to there. I can't even begin to explain that day, that morning. It was bad. Just really bad. Terrifying and heart-wrenching and I can't even think about it without feeling it all over again. But I don't want to stop thinking about it because it was also a very, very good day. It was the day my son didn't die. Well, he did but he didn't stay that way.
I'm so incredibly grateful for that. To have my son for another day and the next and the next.
This kid (who's a grown man, but always my kid) , who hugs me every single time he sees me, invited me to hug him tonight as I prepared to leave his hospital room. Instead, I kissed his one hand that's not covered in bandages. To hug him would hurt him and he's got enough pain with second and third degree burns over 45-50 percent of his body. Plus whatever other effects from having 46,000 volts of electricity course through his body.
Go hug someone you love. For me. For my son Dave.
5 comments:
We love you, Spinny! You are a good Mom and you are getting a big hug when I see you next and I promise to give massive hugs to both my kids when they wake up.
Oh, my. I'm glad it's not the worst. Thinking good thoughts your way .....
You and your son are constantly in my thoughts and prayers. My kids were squeezed extra hard on your behalf, hoping the hug travels your way.
I've been thinking of you everyday and hoping for more info. Then I thought "no news is good news" I'll keep you all in my thoughts and prayers.
Big hugs and love to you and the familiy.
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