The phone rings, waking you from sound sleep. Disoriented, you try to make sense of the words coming from the caller. It’s hard to hear over the blood pulsing through your Carotid artery; loudly racing to your brain in a flight or fight fenzy.
“Mom?” That’s all it took to have a mini heart attack.
My daughter called at 6 am on a Sunday morning to tell me she had been in her very first wreck. When I heard the words “mom.. wreck” I thought she had hit someone. I thought she had been out drunk driving. It felt as if I had just fallen asleep, I didn’t know it was Sunday morning and only two hours away from the alarm.
“Are you ok?” Those are the only words I could find.
Kayla’s voice was calm but I could hear the tears that wrapped themselves tightly around her throat.
“I was hit by a drunk driver. …”
“WHAT? Where are you?”
“I was on my way to work and..”
Wait. Work??? My brain went crazy with worry. Kayla is a young mother. The days she works or attends class I have the baby. Was she bringing the baby to me when she was hit? Omg.
“Where’s Rae? Is she ok??”
“She stayed with Corey’s mom last night. Mom. . My car.” I was so lost in a dream state confusion.
The rest of the story goes like this:
Kayla works at a hospital and she sat at a red light one light from turning into her required parking lot. The hospital is on campus and there’s many food chains and small college stores on this one-way strip of road. She sat waiting for the light to turn green and had a strange thought that she should just go ahead and turn at the light she was at then BAM!!! Before she even knew what happened her Camry was smashed by an old Pathfinder. He hit the rear passenger side, scraped the side, swerved away from the car, came back to hit the front passenger side removing the bumper… he then slammed head-on into a restaurant, backed up, squealed around the next corner, hit something else and ditched the suv behind Fazoli’s and took off on foot.
Kayla called 911 then me.
20 minutes later we sat in the ER of the hospital where she worked. Tears had stained the whites of her eyes red- creating glowing pools of aqua.
Her face was blotched with bits of red and white. At first glance I could see that she had tried to cry it all out before I got there. She doesn’t like me to worry. As a parent, my heart instantly breaks for my children when I see any sort of pain on them. I too wanted to cry but I couldn’t; mommas don’t cry where their babies can see.
About a month has passed since this whole jacked up thing happened. Kayla has a pretty newish car with a pretty payment to go with. HAHA. She’s fine. Got herself a fancy lawyer who sent her to a fancy chiropractor.. those three working together will get Kayla a fancy settlement and maybe….. just maybe… Ill get a fancy Christmas gift.
What about my pain and suffering? 😉