The badness #1

A simple phone call. I'm late to pick up the girls from practice. I mentally curse myself as got confused on what time practice ends this night, despite my mental reminders. Its her friend on the phone, asking if I'm almost there, telling me that K has bumped her head. I roll my eyes. Say I'm leaving now. Apologize for my lateness, once again. I'm still angry from earlier, when I had to tell her to leave the dinner table and she waited outside for her ride. Still angry from Halloween, when she called me a bitch. Its been a difficult couple of weeks, the distance between us larger than its ever been.

Another phone call, the friend again. She tells me K is having a seizure, and can I please hurry? I can hear voices in the background. I shout at her. What? Who are you talking to?? Put the adult on the phone!! The trainer gets on the phone, apologizes, says K has had a seizure and they have called 911, that the ambulance will be there shortly. I speed through a couple red lights, panic rising in my belly. Seizure?? An ambulance turns in front of me and I fall in behind it to the school. I run to her. She seems disoriented but it sitting up, talking. I decide they've overreacted. She keeps asking for me even though I've talked to her. She says, "don't tell my mom, she won't believe me." I gently ask her to stop. I look at her critically, wondering how much of this is her enjoying the attention, the fact that she has a REAL injury. Wondering if she's exaggerating. I hate that I had these thoughts, but I did. After all, this is the girl who rejoices in the smallest of injuries, keeps ACE bandages in her drawer and ice packs in the freezer, who's favorite Christmas present is a first-aid kit, for whom I cannot ever keep an adequate supply of bandaids in the house. The girl who once stared with envy at a giant bandage on the face of a grocery store employee and told me she wouldn't be embarassed to have that because at least then she'd have a "real injury".

The fire captain pulls me aside while they examine her. Tells me they want to transport her to a trauma center as a precaution. That she has some signs of concussion. I am staring at him in disbelief. He keeps asking if I have any questions. I shake my head dumbly. What can I ask? My only questions are, is this really happening? What the fuck is happening? What happened? Is she really hurt? He doesn't have answers for any of these questions. I turn around and they have put her on a stretcher. I burst into tears. The cheer coach hugs me. I ask if I can ride in the ambulance. They tell me I can ride in front. I call her dad, crying, telling him he needs to come to the hospital, he needs to pick up J, who is alone at the house.

On the way to the hospital I keep watch through the tiny windown that looks in on the back of the ambulance. I can see them turn the stretcher on its side as she vomits violently. The paramedic looks back to me and tells me she had another seizure. He asks if she has a history of seizures. I tell him no. I text her dad and tell him to hurry, that she's having seizures. I can hear the medics in the back shouting her name. "K! K, can you hear me? K, answer me. K. K! K?" Panic grows in my belly.

When we arrive at the hospital I jump out and walk around to the back. I'm greeted by a security guard with a dog. He shows me the way inside. I stop to wait for the stretcher, to wait for K, and he tells me I must walk on, that I need to wait in the lobby. Again I burst into tears and tell him I need to go with her. He firmly says no, and escorts me out. I wail, "how will I know how she's doing??" I'm left alone in a hallway. Crying. Someone tells me there are others in the lobby for K. They show me out and I'm embraced by K's friend and the cheer coach. I'm sobbing, wracking hysterical sobs.

We sit. We wait. A social worker introduces herself. Tells us she will take us to a private room so the doctor can talk to me. I'm hysterical with suspicion. Just tell me here, I say. She says this is standard, she assures me its normal, that there's nothing wrong. We go back. We sit. We wait. Her father arrives with my J. We wait. The doctor finally arrives. He says she's had at least four more seizures and that she's been sedated and intubated. I balk at him and stifle a moan. What is happening? He needs to know exactly what happened. The VERY IMPORTANT CHEER COACH begins to explain, tells a 20-minute version, says she seemed fine after the accident. I insist that she wasn't fine, that she was incoherent, that she couldn't answer basic questions. He leaves again. We sit. We wait. I go to the hallway and try to call my sister, who always is a presence of calm, who will have rational things to say. I want to throw my phone against the wall in frustration that I can't get a signal. She doesn't answer anyway. Its the middle of the night.

We sit. We wait.