Life in our family has been a whirlwind of late. College acceptances for Michael and trips to see those colleges; proms and graduation preparation; home-school adjustment for Blake (and for me). I have barely had time to sit down and think – not to mention sleep. And then, last night, everything came to a rapid crash.
The hubby and I came in just past 8:30 p.m after an early dinner with friends. Michael was out at a high school prom and Blake had stayed home alone. As we stepped in the door, Blake peered around the corner at us from the bathroom.
“You wouldn’t believe the night I had!” he exclaimed.
The right side of his face was red and bloody. A piece of his front tooth was missing. The bathroom floor was covered in vomit.
“Why didn’t you call us?” I asked. It turned out the accident had just happened. Blake was fuzzy on the details, but he’d fallen asleep, woken abruptly to let the dogs in the house, and had fallen, face first, onto the concrete in the backyard. He then proceeded to throw up before he could make it to his intended target, the toilet.
“We’re going to the ER,” I said.
“I need a tissue first. Where can I find one?” I told him where and he walked the opposite direction.
“Blake. That’s the wrong way.”
“Oh yeah.” He turned around.
When he returned, the hubby and I readied to head to the hospital.
“I have some prayers to say first,” Blake said.
Really? Prayers now? Even with a head injury, the rigid adherence to religious ritual. We waited.
At the hospital, the doctor confirmed what we thought – a concussion. It was a borderline call as to whether Blake needed a CT scan. Blake did NOT want his head irradiated. That meant we would be waking him every one to two hours all night. Blake was just fine with that. The hubby was posting the photo of Blake’s scraped-up face on Facebook.
“You’d better call your mom if you’re gonna post that,” I said, “or someone else is going to tell her first.”
Sure enough, my sister-in-law contacted me soon after the post appeared. I shared the details with her, right down to the prayers that delayed our leaving. My sister-in-law is religious – one of Blake’s guides and reality checks for OCD vs. real religious practice.
“Prayers?” she wondered. “What prayers did he have to say?” Of course, she informed me of what I already knew – the prayers could have waited. “Happy Mother’s Day!” she said. Happy Mother’s Day, indeed.