I Called It...

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.