When Your Child is Ill

I had no idea how frightening it would be to get "that" phone call late at night, a hospital saying my son was in the ER 2000 miles away. In thinking back to that Tuesday night, March 10th, I realize now I went into emergency mode. Like when I managed the riding school and a kid fell off and was injured. You can't allow yourself to panic, you have to move forward in a swift, purposeful way and not allow your emotions to take over. They can come later. But people follow your lead and to keep the child safe and get help as quickly as possible you have to "pretend," if you will, to not be frightened.

I kept waiting for the adreneline rush to come. It didn't. I did everything methodically. I called Parker's Dad, I called James and told him I needed him to come take me to the airport in the morning and stay at my house and care for the dogs while I was gone. I made my plane reservations for first thing the next morning. I called my boss and almost laughed when I told him I had an emergency, but it wasn't my dad, it was Parker, and that I didn't know when I would be back. I washed my hair and blew it dry, not sure when I'd get another shower. I packed and re-packed my suitcase about five times. I did the dishes. I emailed my boss with all the instructions of things I was working on, interviews I had scheduled over the next couple of days, everything I could think of.

I resisted calling the hospital a thousand times because I'd already spoken to the ER and they really wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't want them to tell Parker I'd been calling and have it make him more anxious. About 2:AM I finally did call and asked Cooper, his nurse, to tell him I was coming first thing in the morning. I explained I was 2000 miles away and I knew it would help him relax because he lived in Austin all alone. Cooper, thank you for telling him. It did help.

I didn't sleep until I was on the plane. I don't remember much of the flight except that I woke up once and took an extra airplane drug because I didn't want to think about what might be happening in the little hospital in Austin while I was 40,000' up in the air. When I landed I went outside baggage to meet Jamie, Parker's best friend, who was picking me up. I had already told her I would wear my hot pink polo shirt so she should look for the person who loooked like a big pimple coming out the door. When she walked toward me I knew it was her. I recognized her face from the photo Parker sent me, even though in the photo her middle finger covered up much of her face.

After the fastest drive on an Austin highway I ever experienced, we arrived at the hospital. The hospital is caddy corner to where Ben White Florist used to be located. I worked there for 3 years ~ almost 30 years ago. Ben White Blvd is now a highway. It was surreal, knowing where I was but not recognizing any of it.

The elevator couldn't go fast enough to get to the third floor. I cracked the door to Parker's room and saw him laying on the hospital bed, bare naked except a sheet draped over his legs. For one split second it looked like he was laid out in the morgue. He turned and looked at me and I said, "Hi honey, I'm here, it's okay."

It wasn't until then, that very second, that I let the tiniest bit of emotion rise to the surface. That's all I've allowed so far. Not sure when the rest will come. But when your child is ill, you are still a Mom. It doesn't matter how old they are. You still clean up the throw up, you still spoon feed them applesauce when they can't manage it themselves because of the pain. You still ask the doctor the questions and you still write down everything the doctors and nurses say in a notebook. Because no matter how old, no matter how far away, our children will forever be our children.