I sit in the dining room. It’s so quiet, the only sound is the ticking of the kitchen clock. I didn’t even know it ticked. When I came home from the accident the three little children were playing on the stairs to the third story screaming happy screams. Now they have gone to bed and I sit and wait for more updates from the emergency room and wonder if the hospital does something to ruin the cell phone service in the rooms or if it’s natural.
Mike and I went out for our Saturday evening date tonight. As we walked to the restaurant, I talked about how disappointed I am in my reactions to the past few stressful weeks. From the moment the doctor who read the follow-up mammogram and said it could be cancer until the day that the biopsy results showed that there is nothing to worry about, I wallowed in chocolate, carbs, and movies. I checked out of my life and got behind in lesson planning, making dinner, and spending time with the kids, and the kids’ behavior was all the worse for it. I long to face the challenges and fears that come in life with serenity and prayer, not with old coping mechanisms that only work in the short term. It may take a while to recover the healthy habits that were so hard to maintain when life became stressful. Mike was a great sounding board and support.
“I’m much better in a real crisis than living in fear of one,” I ended.
At the restaurant, the couple at the nearest table six feet away live across the golf course from us. They moved in this summer and have been wanting to meet their neighbors. They are the same age as us and their toddler daughter is adorable. We exchanged numbers and when they left, we gave our attention to the prime rib dinner before us.
That’s when Sophia’s boyfriend Anthony called to tell me that they had been in a little accident and that no one was hurt. I told him I was on my way. It took a few minutes to speed-walk home from the neighborhood restaurant where Mike and I were eating dinner for our date night. I used the GPS tracker to lead me to Sophia’s location. Though Anthony texted that Sophia was being checked out by an ambulance, I was still expecting something little. I turned onto Benbrook Highway and saw it all. The line of emergency vehicles. Flashing lights lighting up the night. Smashed-up cars. Tow-truck. No sign of an ambulance. It felt big to me.
Like a crazy lady, I pulled into the left turn lane, which was now blocked off, and screamed out the window, “Where’s my daughter? How do I get to her?”
The fire-fighters made circular waving motions with their arms. I looked up, noticed that my green light was red, and realized I was stopping traffic. I pulled forward, did a U-turn, and parked in the parking lot closest to the wreck.
The whole time on the scene, a sense of calm overcame my anxiety and fear. At first, no one could tell me what happened, but I kept asking until a police officer said that Sophia was fine but had been taken to the closest hospital which was the one near my home. I called Mike and had him check on the kids and head over there. I remained to talk to the tow-truck driver and thought to take the car seat out of the minivan in case we wouldn’t get back to it. The front end was smashed in and all four of the front air-bags were deployed.
After the minivan was towed away, Anthony and his parents, and I walked to our cars in the parking lot across the intersection. Before driving home, I called the insurance company. They said that they couldn’t start a claim with nothing but the police report number. They needed Sophia’s side of the story. The representative added that there was a five hundred dollar deductible.
That’s my third deductible reached in one week. I thought about how things come in threes. My health insurance deductible, the cell phone deductible from when Justin dropped my phone, the car insurance deductible. I don’t even have any other deductibles, but the thought that our misfortunes are finished after three comforted me.
Mike called to say that Sophia couldn’t move her arm but could wiggle her fingers. He called again to report that she had some memory loss and was getting a cat scan.
I sit alone in the hushed house, my eyes heavy as the clock ticks past midnight. This story written, there’s not much to do but pray and wait.
They came home after midnight, Sophia wearing a splint on her right arm. She said that she had been tired and felt a migraine coming on and let Anthony drive them home from the restaurant they ate out at. It was dark. The roads were slick from the afternoon showers though the rain had stopped. They had a flashing yellow light coming up to the intersection where the Benbrook Highway crosses over I-20. When the arrow turned green, Anthony made the left turn, but the oncoming truck didn’t stop.
A week later Sophia’s arm is still in the splint. We have an appointment with an arm doctor on the calendar. There were a lot of accidents that weekend, and it’s been hard to get in. Anthony’s hand was fractured. Our car is totaled. It’s all so bad, but it could be worse. My friend Magdalena’s morning caregiver was in another accident that weekend and she died.
I have so much to be thankful for. The kids are healing and will recover. We will be able to buy another car. Sophia missed her SAT last week, but we’ve signed her up for the next one. I’m pleased to say that by staying busy with calling doctors and the insurance company and looking for a new car, I’ve only had a few moments to worry about Sophia. I’m focused on being thankful and doing what there is to be done.
Still, I feel vulnerable. Life can change so quickly. A routine medical appointment might reveal something seriously wrong. A nice dinner out might end with a phone call that one of my kids has been in an accident. It feels like we’ve had a lot of near misses lately. I long for the days when my biggest worry was when to start my baby on solid foods, and the biggest threat to my child was a well-meaning relative giving them their first sip of soda.
I’m letting the events of the past few weeks bring me back to prayer and a place of gratefulness. The future may hold many chances to live through challenges with peace and patience. May I learn these lessons through the kinds of stressful moments that last only a few weeks and are soon recovered from. Lord have mercy.
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