Gray Hair Tale #1,287
Baby Girl (BG): MOM! MOM!! *click*
I quickly dial back, the phone goes to voicemail.
Don’t panic, don’t panic.
Me: Baby girl?
BG: MOM!! I fell, with the baby…*garbled, garbled*
Me: Is she hurt?
Me: Dammit…calm down a second, BG!! IS. SHE. HURT???
BG: No, she’s fine *screaming again, crying* I broke my fucking ankle!!!
Don’t panic, don’t panic, baby girl is home alone with her two babies and I’m over an hour away.
Me: Did you get a hold of your hubby?
BG: I called *screaming again* no…*sobbing*…answer
Me: Okay, let me see what I can do. Where are you? Where are the girls?
BG: *sobbing, hysterical*On the floor, in the hallway. I was getting out of the truck with baby in my arms and somehow I rolled over on my ankle and fell. I landed on my elbow and baby’s head was like an inch from the floor…OH. GOD.THE. PAIN!!!
Me: Alright, I’m going to try to find someone close by (her sister, brother, and sister-in-law are all within 20 minutes of her) you keep calling hubby.
::five minutes pass, I can’t get anyone and my phone rings::
Me: Baby girl? Did you get a hold of hubby?
BG: MOM!! HELP ME PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZ!!!
Shit, shit, shit…okay, think Mom…
Me: *looking at my boss who can hear BG screaming/crying on phone and looks genuinely alarmed* I’m on my way, you keep calling hubby. *boss nods and I grab my stuff and run out the door*
I called my hubby on the way to BG’s house.
Me: Hey, BG thinks she’s broken her ankle. She’s lying on the floor at her house and we can’t get a hold of anyone. I’m on my way out there now, but I’m like an hour away. *I look down at my speedometer..it reads ‘80’…I try not to think about that*
Hubby: What the fuck happened?
Me: I don’t really know, she’s hysterical. From what I gather, she fell getting out of the truck with the baby and somehow rolled her ankle in the process.
Me: I know, right? Can you call her?
Hubby: Me? Why?
Me: Because YOU are her Daddy, and you are always able to calm her down.
Hubby: Okay, but you keep me informed.
Me: Thank you, honey. I will.
I hang up the phone and for the next few minutes concentrate on driving like a madwoman through the Dallas traffic.
::phone rings – it’s BG’s husband::
Me: Where are you?
BG Hubby: I’m on my way home, be there in 15 minutes or so.
Me: Okay, I’m on my way there, too. I’ll watch the girls while you take BG to the hospital.
BG Hubby: Okay.
I hang up again and go back to NASCAR on the freeway.
::phone rings – it’s my daughter-in-law::
D-I-L: Hey, what’s going on? Everyone’s phone is blowing up.
I relay the events and ask d-i-l if she can come out to the house to watch the girls after she gets off work – she lives very close by. I can’t stay too late as I have to work the next day and we don’t know how long BG may be at the hospital.
D-I-L: Sure, no problem. I’ll see you around 6:00.
Me: Thank you!
I’m almost to BG’s house now and realize that a one-hour trip has taken me less than 40 minutes. I don’t even….sigh…thank you, God.
I walk in to find BG and her hubby in the bedroom. BG is on the floor, her ankle is roughly twice its normal size, but it looks to me to be more of a strain/sprain than break.
We carry her to the car and a couple of hours later she texts me the good news – no break, BUT severe strain to ligaments, possibly a tear but time will tell if she needs surgery. For now, it’s a boot, crutches, ice, and heavy-duty ibuprofen.
And that, dear readers, was how I spent my Monday….getting gray hair # 1,287.
What did you do?