Some Days 911 Tops the List

There are some days that leave no words to accurately describe their suckiness. Starting it off by spending 6 hours in the ER with your husband (gall bladder/GI issues) after he's been in pain for two weeks and you finally make him go is bad enough. Dropping and breaking your iPhone makes it a little shittier, considering your backup cell phone is in your car. You know, the one that's STILL fucking broken at the shop and will cost at least a few hundred more dollars to fix. Money you don't have.

Running around to your allergy injection and then warehouse shopping for a baby's party alone with two kids because your husband is so sick is definitely not fun nor easy, especially around dinner time. Shoving churros in their whine-holes while you buy 50-gallon vats of mayo only works for so long. Getting the kids home and the car unloaded, getting them dinner, then running back out to the pharmacy before even you can eat to make sure you fill your sick husband's prescriptions sucks as you sit and wait, downloading all the old apps you lost on your iPhone, which you broke, remember? After 40-minutes of waiting, you get in the car, finally ready to get home, get your husband his meds and shove some food in your mouth and pass out on the couch.

Calling 911 puts that day right at the top of the Shitty Day List.

"911, where is your emergency?"

"13 This Day Sucks Lane, Howell. My daughter: she's 3. She fell backwards off a chair and hit her head about an hour ago. We thought she was okay but she's starting moving her leg seemingly involuntarily. My husband is sick and has to stay home with our infant and I'm afraid to drive her to the ER by myself and have something go wrong in the car."

"She's three?"

"Yes."

"We'll send everyone out there."

In the three minutes it took the first responder to arrive, we had gotten her blanket, dolls, slippers and juice ready to go and I was waiting outside. I explained the incident at least four different times as every one who showed up wanted the "official" story.

"She was standing on her booster seat. She pushed away from the table and instead of the chair sliding back, it tipped. She fell from at least four feet onto the back of her head. I wasn't home. I was at the store. My husband said she cried so hard, she lost her breath and was pulling on his hair, clawing at him. When I got home, she was calm and normal, albeit with what feels like someone literally shoved a golf ball under her scalp. She was playing with my iPhone when her foot turned inward and started moving, twitching. She looked at me and said 'Mommy, what's my foot doing?' That was enough to make me call you guys."

They were great with her and she was pretty much calm and happy the whole way, trying to make the experience seem exciting, rather than scary. The whole neighborhood was outside, watching me clutch my daughter and load her into an ambulance. Something I figured I'd have to do at some point in my parenting career, but hoped would never happen.

We got to the ER, they ordered a CT scan for which she was great for, and two hours later we were released with a negative CT and an order for a follow-up. Apparently, the leg thing was unrelated and may have just been a muscle spasm or cramp. But the timing was enough to send me to That Place. I'm not a panicky parent. My kids fall and I tell them to get up, shake it off, and come get a hug. I don't coddle or overreact. Kids fall. Kids get hurt. But this was different.

I didn't want to be that parent who thought their kid was fine - all kids bump their heads - and sent her to bed, only to have a brain bleed or fractured skull and have an outcome I can't even consider. An outcome whose mere thought catches my breath and squeezes my heart until I can't see straight.

This time it was just a bump on the head. A bad bump, but just a bump nonetheless.

I hope there never is a next time.