Didn't I say this was the semester from hell?
I was eating dinner and reading assignments on the computer Saturday night. I chewed my food and swallowed, and then realized a cap had disappeared from a back molar. Oh, geez. I swallowed it. I hope I crunched it up; the idea of that porcelain crown making its way through my body is frightening.
So, tomorrow, I need to find a dentist--fast.
Then, I called my daughter this morning to get some information to add her and her brother as beneficiaries to my insurance policies. I asked her how the previous week went--she's two weeks into her teacher certification program at UT Austin--and she said, rather nonchalantly, "Well, funny you should ask about that. I was hit by a car on Thursday and couldn't go to class Friday. But I emailed my teachers to let them know."
Wait a second--back up. You were hit by a car, and you didn't call me?
"Well, Mom, he was only going about five miles an hour. I was crossing Congress [It's a huge, busy street in downtown Austin] and he came around the corner and knocked me down. I fell on my bicycle [she was pushing it through the crosswalk, trying to get to her bus]. The bus driver called 911. The EMTs checked me out. Nothing broken; I'm just bruised and sore."
Enough to make a mother's heart stop. She acted as though she was talking about a walk in the park. She was a bit disgruntled, though, because the EMTs offered to give her a $500 ride to the hospital, but no one offered her a ride home!
If she had called me, I'd have been on the way to Austin Friday before the sun rose. But, really, what could I have done? Make her tea, get her ice packs, take her to the doctor. I know, she's a grown person; she can take care of herself. But that's not what worries me--what worries me are those other people, the ones who come around corners and run into my children. I can't stop them, and I wish I could.