It’s FUBAR

When I landed after multiple delays from New Orleans (severe enough that I considered canning it altogether and driving home), I received this text message:

Elder son: Mimma (my mom) got in a car accident. I don’t know the severity.

Me: I need more information than that.

Elder son: I don’t really know. Tootsie might know I’m trying to sleep.

Me: Get me more information immediately. I do not care that you are trying to sleep (aside: elder son received a very hearty lecture on the shittiness of his response to this situation. Very hearty indeed.).

Then I called the littler dude. He told me, “Mimma got in an accident but I think it’s not bad. She was on her way home from taking Bill to the hospital.”

Me: “What?”

Toots: “I think Bill fell down. I’m not really sure.”

Suddenly my phone rang. It was the boys’ dad who started the conversation with, “Everything is fine, but….”

Here is what happened:

Bill was in the basement, which is where we keep 2x4s with nails sticking up out of them (interesting point: the week later was the planned time for hauling all of this crap to the dump. Haha joke’s on us). Bill was reaching over the sit up machine thing for something whereupon he became a toddler falling into a bucket, upending himself over the sit up thing and planting his face into the pile of 2x4s with nails sticking up. He walked upstairs with his bleeding self. My mother, who was chilling in the living room, looked up and felt maybe something was wrong. They hastened out to the car, away to the ER! Without phones!

After they got settled into the ER, my mom thought she should go home for a phone since the kids were home alone and possibly worried (as it turned out, they were not, having no grasp on the situation whatsoever). On her way she got rear ended. She used a Good Samaritan’s phone to call my dad, who somehow could not locate phone numbers or something. She called my sister who did not answer then called the boys’ dad, who is the type to spring into action. Very springy in that regard, good quality. He immediately got on the highway to come to her aid. The highway was at a dead stop. He had gotten ahold of my sister who also hit the highway. Which was at a dead stop. Haha so funny.

So about the time they were both stuck on the highway I found my car in the goddamn parking lot at O’Hare and headed for home. Because I was still 1.5 hours away, which was so great for this situation. By the time I got home it was fairly well sorted out–sister had gone to the hospital for Bill, Bill’s ex joined her there for added moral support, and Mohamed had escorted my mom home and instructed her to pour a stiff drink. I went straight to the ER even though Bill had already been there for 4 hours. I had insisted on photos of the injuries sent but still had to assess the situation. Forehead cut, pretty deep, much like a nail had been pushed into his forehead. Shiner developing, other cuts and abrasions. Some unexplained foot involvement. All in all I was pleased with the non-emergency nature of the injuries. Also good heart rate, keep that up for sure. Unfortunately we had to wait 4.5 more hours which was total bullshit and never would have happened at my hospital. Super not cool. In the meantime I talked to my mom who relived the entire clusterfuck with some verve.

It was a bit of chaos, really, but nothing to get too worked up about. One of the great advantages of being an emergency nurse is that your baseline for “is everything all right?” is really, really low. Like is everyone conscious? Good deal, we’ll manage then. I’ve noticed that people don’t always appreciate that point of view. Not too long ago I was at a nighttime little kid party and there was a mysterious noise followed by loud crying. Everyone was all, where is she? Who is it? Oh god oh god panic panic. Looks directed at me to save the situation. Sitting on the deck I was all, cool, that’s a good loud cry. Plenty of breathing and consciousness going on there. Nothing to get worked up about. I guess we’ll find them using echolocation or something. Out loud I said, “Good cry, they’re conscious. That’s good then.” Doesn’t seem to be what parents want to hear, they want more of a dramatic rescue reaction.