We all do it. What if it works? What if it doesn’t?! What if I don’t pass? What if I can’t get out? What if I can’t find another job? A partner? What if I fail? What if…what if I don’t?!
May 10th, 2010, She just came home from her first year of college. The next day was starting her internship at a swanky ad company. It was a beautiful May day. She was shining too. She had so much energy that a quick bike ride would help dispense it.
I answered and heard: She’s going to be fine.
It’s funny how time blurs, instructions are not ‘heard’ but understood. I was one mile from the accident. I pulled up wherever. And I saw… I saw a car, and the back tire of a bike sticking out from under it and the ambulance. It’s true when they say all sounds disappear. I heard nothing. I only wanted to see… her.
I stepped into the ambulance. There she was, head brace, strapped down, bloody. As I stared at her head, she rolled her eyes back to see me.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Oh, she’s always trying to protect me. I looked down at my girl. I looked her up & down, watching the EMT’s prepare her arms for IV’s.
“No. I’M FINE. YOU just got run over by a car.” She gave me a look of “really? sarcasm now”. It’s my go-to.
“So, you’re ‘fine’, right? Have you seen who is working on you?” I was referring to the fine looking EMT boys saving my girls life.
She smiled and raised her eyebrows. She’s fine.
“Fine” can be defined in many many ways. She was driven to the hospital in an ambulance, her clothes cut off in front of 27 nurses and doctors, cone of shame, iv’s, X-rays, poking, pinching, blinding flashlights to the eyes. All for good reason: what they found… road rash, tire skid mark on her back, a small crack in the transverse process, and a bunch of pulled muscles. They left us alone. She was fine… then the shock wore off. It was like the blanket that had covered and protected her was now of no need and slowly pulled down off her body. Her face changed, she looked at me wide eyed and became a very scared, very young child. She whaled. And so did I. What if her head had hit the cement, the bumper, what if her back was crushed by the tire? What if…yes.. what if I had lost my girl that day? We both LOST it. Deep deep belly cries that filled the room. It filled the halls all the way to the nurses station. I knew our cries were heard because a few minutes into our bawl-out, a little nurse slid in like Joel in Risky Business with her finger raised and a loud “HEY!”
“STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” She was pissed? sort of.. but more than that, she had a message. Mid-bawl we both stopped.
“SHE is fine. She’s alive and not broken, not dying. She’s here .. Now.” (… and this next line changed our lives).
“Those ‘what if’s’… those ‘what ifs’ will only steal from you!! What ifs will kill you.” and she left us. *perfect entrance, perfect exit.
I looked at Meg. Laying in her hospital bed, scraped, bruised, sore. She was here. I would get to see her grow more into the beautiful girl she already is.
The next few weeks were rough. A frustrating recovery and a joyous journey to full on enjoying life and all it has to offer. No accident, illness, disease leaves you the same as you were before. It changes you, challenges you. What are your ‘what if’s’?
WHAT IF… you lived it without the fear of losing it, rather living it with the love of having it. That is my only ‘what if’ question.
Miss Fit Girls
Connecting, Encouraging, Strengthening, Accepting, Celebrating