I was away from home when I got the call. 814 miles away to be exact. After years of contemplation I’d taken the plunge and left my family to attend my first professional conference. As I highly anxious person, I’d played out so many horrific scenarios in my head over the years, that I wasn’t surprised when the call came. When you live in fear of something awful happening, it isn’t all that surprising when it does.
But shock is another thing. I stood by the river, frozen with my ear was pressed to my phone. A circle of newly made friends pulled around me as I started to cry. “What can we do?” they asked. ” How can we help?” These kind-hearted souls surrounded me, reaching out. People who knew nothing of me or my life, watched my face closely as I took in the details of the accident. My daughter was alive, but badly injured and on her way to the hospital. And I, I was a lifetime away.
Life became a dissociated, frenetic blur as I tried to contact my husband. Hoping he could get to the hospital and report back to me what I was too far away to see for myself. All of the “if only’s” played on a loop in my mind while I tried to figure out how to catch the first flight back home.
Later, I lay in the dark hotel room, watching the clock until I could get a ride to the airport. Sleep was an allusive gift that I did not deserve.
Flying home, I sat in the last seat available on the first flight I could find. Pressed up against the last row window seat, I willed myself to stay calm. Counting my breathes, away of how shallow they were, how close I was to another panic attack. She’s alive became my mantra.
When I finally arrived at the baggage claim my phone rang again. This time it was a new number. “Someone stole our phones from the pediatric ICU.” my husband explained from the nurse’s landline. “I’m on my way to get you.” Our daughter was alive, conscious. Stable enough for him to bring me to her. That was all that mattered.
When one of your worst fears come true does that mean you can let go of the ones that haven’t yet materialized?
To be continued…
Sara Zavacki-Moore 