Panic

It’s been two days since my car accident. While on my way to take Kidlet to baseball practice, I had stopped on a road near our home to wait for a car to turn left in front of me. I was rear-ended by two vehicles and my beloved Jeep was totaled.

Being the loving, ever vigilant mom that I am, as soon as the dust settled and my brain re-engaged, I looked over to Kidlet and asked, “Did you break your teeth?”

We just had $5K worth of braces put on him last week.

Once we were able to get our jammed doors opened and climb out, I realized that both of our seats had broken. Our back seat was now against the front seats. The entire car was many inches shorter then when it rolled off the assembly line. We walked away with bumps and bruises, and a bit of soreness. But we walked.

*Sob* My beloved 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee was in perfect condition. I had 543K miles original miles on it. Yes, 543 thousand miles. Straight six 4.0 liter, manual 5 speed. I loved my Jeep. My intent was to hit a million miles. *Sob*

My first phone call, once others who had stopped assured me that they had called 911, was to Steve who was at work 45 miles away. He called the insurance company for me and ordered a tow truck. My second call was to our Manlet who works nearby and was out to pick up Kidlet and I in fifteen minutes. He also has given me his car to drive.

I am continually thanking God that we are okay. Looking at all the photos of my poor Jeep I find it hard to believe we survived relatively unscathed.

The panic set in the next morning.

I woke up around 5:30 with a horrendous headache. I arose to use the restroom and was immediately nauseous. I didn’t actually get sick, but did have trouble staying upright. Steve rolled out of bed, hovered near me to make sure I was alright and helped me back to bed. He then showered, made coffee, and headed off to work. At seven I got up briefly to get Kidlet off to school, then climbed back into bed and slept till nine. At that time I noticed over a dozen calls and text messages from my hubby. Was I okay, he wanted to know.

I called him back to find that he was on his way home, in a blind panic because I wasn’t answering. I assured him that other than the headache, I was. The nausea was gone. I was drinking coffee. My neck and back felt fine. Turn around and go back to work, I told him. His obvious relief flowed through the phone.

After I hung up, I sat on our deck with my coffee, contemplating the pure panic in Steve’s voice when I spoke to him. He was terrified. He loves me. There are so many times that he doesn’t do the ‘normal’ lovey-dovey romantic things that many husbands do, but when it really is important, when it really counts, his love for me shines through.

Thank you Lord for my husband. And thank you Sweetie for loving me!

Now, can I have a new Jeep?