In more personal news, our son went (link>all the way to Japan and back (link) safely—and was involved in a collision 10 blocks from home
Some idiotic so-called driver rear-ended the taxi that was bringing him home from the airport while the cab was standing still at a stoplight.
Rewind 23 years.
Only a few days after our son was born, my sister was on the way to the airport for a business trip when the taxi in which she was riding was involved in an accident. She took the cabbie’s name and information, and went her merry way. It wasn’t until a few days later that she realized that she had, in fact, been seriously hurt—whiplash and back injury—and that the information given by the taxi driver had been false and worthless, meaning that she’d never be able to collect a dime from him and/or his insurance company.
In the interim, she went through several jobs, none of which seemed to work out, and even earned a second master’s degree in an attempt to jump-start a new career. It was in the course of earning that degree that she was finally forced to face the fact that she could no longer keep up the pace of a normal life, and hadn’t been able to do so since her accident. She’d never truly recovered from her injuries, and had, in fact, been permanently disabled. She hasn’t held a paying joy in more years than I can remember, has been getting by on income from investments made years ago, and is now applying to the Social Security Administration for disability payments.
Fast-forward to the present. Given that family history, you can imagine why we didn’t even bother stopping off at home to drop off our son’s luggage—when we picked him up at the accident site (in his own car, of which we’ve had “custody” since he left for Japan), we got whatever information we needed from the police who were on the scene, and then took our son straight to the nearest Emergency Room. Hubby went home, unloaded the car, packed some sandwiches, books, etc., and met me back at the hospital. The last time I saw my son, he was stretched out on a hospital gurney in the Emergency Room with a brace on his neck, asking for his iPod. “No book?” “No, I can’t read in this position anyway.” Oy.
So here I am, having been shipped home to do the unpacking, wondering what happened to that old Yiddish phrase, “Kleine kinder, kleine tzures; groisse kinder, groisse tzures, small children, small worries; big children, big worries.” We seem to have missed the first part. For most of his childhood and youth, our son and we dealt with his learning and social-skills-development delays. Then, just when he thought he was out of the woods, the other shoe dropped—by the time he was 22, he’d developed kidney stones and Crohn’s Disease (for which he takes the prescription medicine Asacol, at $220.95 per month—not covered by insurance, naturally :( ). And now, there’s this to worry about.
Okay, Shira, take a deep breath. Even your son is complaining that’s he’s been told he has a negative attitude—and says he learned it from you. Didn’t you promise that you were going to try to become more of a “sunny-sider?”
Repeat three times:
Our son walked away from the collision.
Our son walked away from the collision.
Our son walked away from the collision.
That’s better. Now get some sleep, before Daddy-O calls from the hospital waiting room and asks you to walk over and relieve him of duty.
If you have some time between listening to Aussie Dave’s live podcast from Israel, along with reading some of the other live blogging about the war in Israel that I mentioned in my previous post—assuming that you’re not one of the people under fire, heaven help you—please stop by now and then. I could use some cybernetic hand-holding.
Update, 5:43 AM
Our son just walked in the door, without a neck brace. The hospital didn't find any injury, and sent him home with nothing but pain medication and instructions to call back if he experiences numbness or tingling. So far, so good, thank heaven. I guess we'll have to take a wait-and-see attitude over the next few days.
As of a few minutes ago, I am now the proud possessor of a brand-new hand-held fan and a set of beautifully-decorated Japanese chopsticks. :)
Rewind 23 years.
Only a few days after our son was born, my sister was on the way to the airport for a business trip when the taxi in which she was riding was involved in an accident. She took the cabbie’s name and information, and went her merry way. It wasn’t until a few days later that she realized that she had, in fact, been seriously hurt—whiplash and back injury—and that the information given by the taxi driver had been false and worthless, meaning that she’d never be able to collect a dime from him and/or his insurance company.
In the interim, she went through several jobs, none of which seemed to work out, and even earned a second master’s degree in an attempt to jump-start a new career. It was in the course of earning that degree that she was finally forced to face the fact that she could no longer keep up the pace of a normal life, and hadn’t been able to do so since her accident. She’d never truly recovered from her injuries, and had, in fact, been permanently disabled. She hasn’t held a paying joy in more years than I can remember, has been getting by on income from investments made years ago, and is now applying to the Social Security Administration for disability payments.
Fast-forward to the present. Given that family history, you can imagine why we didn’t even bother stopping off at home to drop off our son’s luggage—when we picked him up at the accident site (in his own car, of which we’ve had “custody” since he left for Japan), we got whatever information we needed from the police who were on the scene, and then took our son straight to the nearest Emergency Room. Hubby went home, unloaded the car, packed some sandwiches, books, etc., and met me back at the hospital. The last time I saw my son, he was stretched out on a hospital gurney in the Emergency Room with a brace on his neck, asking for his iPod. “No book?” “No, I can’t read in this position anyway.” Oy.
So here I am, having been shipped home to do the unpacking, wondering what happened to that old Yiddish phrase, “Kleine kinder, kleine tzures; groisse kinder, groisse tzures, small children, small worries; big children, big worries.” We seem to have missed the first part. For most of his childhood and youth, our son and we dealt with his learning and social-skills-development delays. Then, just when he thought he was out of the woods, the other shoe dropped—by the time he was 22, he’d developed kidney stones and Crohn’s Disease (for which he takes the prescription medicine Asacol, at $220.95 per month—not covered by insurance, naturally :( ). And now, there’s this to worry about.
Okay, Shira, take a deep breath. Even your son is complaining that’s he’s been told he has a negative attitude—and says he learned it from you. Didn’t you promise that you were going to try to become more of a “sunny-sider?”
Repeat three times:
Our son walked away from the collision.
Our son walked away from the collision.
Our son walked away from the collision.
That’s better. Now get some sleep, before Daddy-O calls from the hospital waiting room and asks you to walk over and relieve him of duty.
If you have some time between listening to Aussie Dave’s live podcast from Israel, along with reading some of the other live blogging about the war in Israel that I mentioned in my previous post—assuming that you’re not one of the people under fire, heaven help you—please stop by now and then. I could use some cybernetic hand-holding.
Update, 5:43 AM
Our son just walked in the door, without a neck brace. The hospital didn't find any injury, and sent him home with nothing but pain medication and instructions to call back if he experiences numbness or tingling. So far, so good, thank heaven. I guess we'll have to take a wait-and-see attitude over the next few days.
As of a few minutes ago, I am now the proud possessor of a brand-new hand-held fan and a set of beautifully-decorated Japanese chopsticks. :)
posted by Shira Salamone at 3:54 AM
4 Comments:
I'm glad your son's accident turned out okay. So how was Japan? :-)
Thanks for your concern. I'm not sure our son is out of the woods just yet. He's seeing his doctor tomorrow. Thus far, though, he appears to be in good health, and isn't complaining much more than he normally does :).
Japan is *spotless,* he tells us. There's no litter anywhere, and people hose down the exteriors of their homes and businesses practically every day.
On the other hand, he couldn't find any decent cheese there, and my son the milchig man practically lives on cheese. But he doesn't seem to have come home any skinnier than his usual thin self, fortunately.
Just saw this and wanted to say that I am glad that your son is ok.
Not quite, I'm sorry to say, but it could be a lot worse, Jack. Thanks for your concern.
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