My family, like most Southern gentry before us, thrives on panic and distress. Nothing gets the heart rate going like an unexpected phone call that starts with, “Everything’s okay, but….”
“Everything’s okay, but….” is code for SOUND THE ALARMS! DUST OFF THE EMERGENCY PROCEDURES! LIFE HAS GONE AWRY!
On September 5, my sister called twice while I was teaching a class. That’s not unusual. But when I arrived home, I noticed she had called Hot Firefighter Husband twice, too. I assumed she needed Immediate Medical Advice. Husband works part-time as her pediatrician.
When I called her back, though, she was crying. “Everything’s okay for now,” she sobbed, “but Dad was in a terrible accident.” Twelve days later, those two little words still stop me. For now. Everything’s okay for now.
But nothing is ever okay when someone has been in a terrible accident. My father remains in the hospital, though he is out of the intensive care unit. He has 10 broken ribs, a broken bone in his sternum, contusions on his lungs and massive bruising on his legs and arms. There are complications – intestinal problems, breathing issues, chest congestion.
For now, Dad is stable. He’s a tough old guy – always has been – and he is fighting through each day like Muhammed Ali on the ropes.
That’s all I can tell you for now. Please send good thoughts and energy in the direction of Covington, Louisiana.
Also, I’m back, and next time I won’t stay away so long. But I knew you’d understand. I love my dad so much.