A Bad Bad Day

Angel 2

Photo: Lori Ann Reese

I never lie in my blog.  The truth is I rarely lie in general, simply because my ADHD makes it difficult to keep my story straight, and since that takes entirely too much focus and energy, I tend to stick to the truth.  However blunt, unwelcome or unflattering it is.

So with utter embarrassment I confess that I was in a car accident (again) yesterday.  Before assumptions fly, please note that I was travelling at a relaxed pace, at a stop light and travelling at less than 3 miles per hour.   A warm thank you to the firetrucks and police cars in McKinney that were doing their job, but sadly created a scenario where as they were turning left, the lady right ahead of me slammed on her brakes at the exact moment as I was checking my side mirror to determine where the trucks were and if I needed to pull right to let them pass.

Fuck.

Not too much damage was done to either vehicle and she was polite and I was polite and very apologetic.  Her first statement was “I didn’t know where they were going so I slammed on my brakes” and my first statement was “I know, I thought you were rolling through the right turn and I quickly checked my mirror… and…”  Right.

Double fuck.

No one was hurt.  Bumpers will be replaced and our insurance will surely take its toll in February.  After all I am a new driver in the USA.  And all day yesterday in my head I kept beating myself…. “I haven’t had an accident in 15 years… 15 freaking years!!!!  And someone t-bones me in February… writes off my car, and now I bumped someone.”

And I started considering the logistics of horse and wagon.  Seriously.  What?!  It IS Texas right?  Screw the insurance I’ll go cowgirl thanks.

Triple…f…

The cough from hell is slowly backing off, much to my delight and great appreciation at the simple luxury of, well, being able to breathe.  Through both nostrils AND my lungs.  Woot!

But still I was sick, tired and had bumped our car.  I was not a happy camper yesterday.  I was in full sulk, kicking the can… and did one of those things where I look up at the sky almost sarcastically like… WHY!!!!!!

And then I got a message from my husband about our son Logan.   The lump is back less than six weeks from his first surgery to remove it.  Something has grown back in that exact spot, with lightening speed.

And suddenly nothing else in the world mattered.  Not insurance rates, not talking to the insurance adjuster, finances… nothing.  It’s like someone entirely wiped my whole white board in my mind clean of the ruminations and there was just one.

Our eight year old son.

The car will get fixed.  The insurance will go up.  Accidents happen, and I am human.

But our son trumps everything.

And when I turned my eyes up to the sky this time, I almost started to cry (but managed to keep my shit together since I was surrounded by people).

“Please let him be okay Lord. I will do anything you ask of me always,  but please let him be okay.  Please let this be nothing serious.”

And I spent the evening watching my husband’s face, not bringing it up.  Chatting about other things to distract him (although I am sure I did not do it successfully).

The things grown-up’s do when they are scared.

And the best we can do until the specialist’s appointment next week is take them to the State Fair this weekend, and try to take his mind off it.   Not that I think it will work for Logan either, who still has a two inch scar across his neck and a memory of waking up in pain.

The Reese’s vs. mystery lump, round two.

Angel

Photo: Lori Ann Reese

I have to get better at lying.  I’m a Step-Mom that needs to develop a poker face that actually works.  Kids are terribly smart at age eight.