How Are You Today?
Feb. 29th, 2008 03:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
porphyryToday I went to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. Before she took my order, the young barista asked me, "How are you today?" as she always does.
What I wanted to say was: "Well, yesterday, my mother, brother, and four-year-old son, three people whom I love most in the world, were in an automobile accident. My brother's all right but his car is totaled. My child has a broken leg and thankfully he'll mend okay, but I hope never in my life again to see what I saw when I arrived at the scene of the accident yesterday--amid the police cars and ambulances, my baby on a transport board, crying for me and shaking all over with fear, traumatized and crying in pain, surrounded by strangers; and then there's my mother, in a hospital in St. Louis, with a shattered ankle, five broken ribs, and two cracked vertebrae in her back. I saw her blood all over the car and street when I got to the accident because the bones had broken through her skin. The orthopedic doctor here--the same one, in fact, who treated me when I broke my foot and then a year later rebroke the same bone; a very good doctor and highly recommended--referred her over to a research hospital because he didn't want to do the surgery. But I guess she'll be okay too, eventually. I am grateful no one died, but I have been better, thank you."
What I actually said was, "Fine." And then I ordered my coffee.
What I wanted to say was: "Well, yesterday, my mother, brother, and four-year-old son, three people whom I love most in the world, were in an automobile accident. My brother's all right but his car is totaled. My child has a broken leg and thankfully he'll mend okay, but I hope never in my life again to see what I saw when I arrived at the scene of the accident yesterday--amid the police cars and ambulances, my baby on a transport board, crying for me and shaking all over with fear, traumatized and crying in pain, surrounded by strangers; and then there's my mother, in a hospital in St. Louis, with a shattered ankle, five broken ribs, and two cracked vertebrae in her back. I saw her blood all over the car and street when I got to the accident because the bones had broken through her skin. The orthopedic doctor here--the same one, in fact, who treated me when I broke my foot and then a year later rebroke the same bone; a very good doctor and highly recommended--referred her over to a research hospital because he didn't want to do the surgery. But I guess she'll be okay too, eventually. I am grateful no one died, but I have been better, thank you."
What I actually said was, "Fine." And then I ordered my coffee.
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Date: 2008-03-05 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-05 01:09 pm (UTC)Relatively speaking, this latest event isn't the worst our family has ever faced. We've weathered many crises together (my aunt once said, "You know, sometimes people have had bad things happen to them, but you have faced real tragedies; and she's right; we have over the years). I can only think we'll weather this as well--we've had lots of practice!
I've got to do some creative thinking to figure out how I'm going to keep Andrew occupied for six weeks--he's in a cast up to his hip for six weeks, non-weight bearing, so he's pretty much stuck. Yesterday, he made me promise I wouldn't take his sister sledding without him: "It's not fair!" he wailed. Maybe Malkhos can teach him to read and write.