Last Wednesday started like any other day: I woke up. I normally wake up at 6:30 in the morning, and my husband and I have coffee together. On this day, though, he didn’t wake me up because I had surgery* the previous day. And surgeries kind of hurt because the doctor cuts into you with a very sharp object. So I woke up at around 10:00 in the morning.
And, as with the thousand+ days that proceeded this day, at least since Samsung and Apple came out with touchscreen phones, one of the first things I do in the morning is check my phone.
* A very minor surgery, in which things in my mind are a lot worse than in reality because I’m being a really big whiny baby.
You need to call me as soon as you get this message, my husband texted me. Along with 50 other text messages in a similar vein.
And I called.
“She’s been in an accident,” he said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She fell asleep at the wheel, and she had a head-on collision with the other driver.”
And my life changed.
Here is the thing. I love my husband. I have great friends, and I love them, too. And I would be really, really sad if I lost them.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, would ever compare if I lost my daughter. Because, you need to understand, I’ve figured out what the meaning to life is. At least for me. I totally recognize that the meaning to my life might not be the meaning to your life.
The meaning to my life is her. And it has been since the moment I knew she was going to be a person, the day I found out that I was pregnant. The day I gave birth, 33 hours of labor and all. And the 19 years in between, the moments of your life as a parent where you want to scream your bloody head off because she ATE ON THE SOFA FOR THE 9857439758234TH TIME. Or didn’t pick up her room. Or something else, in that moment, that means a whole lot to you.
“Is she okay?” I asked. Please God, please God, let her be okay.
And my husband told me that she has a shattered ankle, possibly several cracked ribs, and a partially collapsed lung. She was taken to the ER.
All I wanted to do is go to the hospital to see my daughter. But, I couldn’t, because in a twist of irony, I just had surgery and couldn’t drive. But, I had to wait until my husband could pick me up. And that meant that I had to wait for him to leave her, which he didn’t do because he’s a great dad and wanted to be there for her when she woke up from her accident.
But she is okay. Or, she will be okay. She was released on Saturday from the trauma unit. She will need additional surgery on her ankle. And physical therapy. I need to take half days to help her around the house. And we have to figure out all the stuff with the car insurance. As readers of my newsletter know, she doesn’t have the best track record with cars.
But, none of that matters.
Because she is okay.
And my life has meaning again.
The Book Promos
This issue, I am participating in How Long Till Halloween?: An All-Genre Giveaway for Paranormal, Gothic, and Horror Stories! Because Halloween is so absurdly awesome, and we gotta get our fright on.
Last newsletter, I asked readers what they were doing when 9/11 hit. I received wonderful replies. I am so grateful to everyone who took the time to email me. As you probably surmise, I didn’t have much time to reply to your emails. But, now that she is home (and safe, and getting better), I will be returning your emails!