This year I learned I am not immune from danger or sickness. I got in this groove of thinking nothing could happen to me because I’m Mom, and lord knows my kids have enough going on. I mean, we’ve got hydrocephalus/cerebral palsy/seizures/genetic diagnosis/speech impairment/thyroid issues. Enough. Then we got hit with thinking I had breast cancer. Cleared that. Thought I might need breast surgery. Nope. Good to go. Awesome. Because I had no time for that nonsense. Then yesterday I got hit on the head with a very large, very heavy, sharp-edged, dog bone. It sounds funny, ridiculous even, but it hurt like hell. I didn’t see it coming and when it hit me, I literally thought a brick hit me as I fell over. The pain. My son ran to me, he was so sorry, I grabbed him and asked what he threw. That’s when I touched my head and realized I was bleeding. A lot. I stumbled to the house, the kids got the neighbor, the oldest called 911. I got five staples in my head. While my neighbor held ice on my head and checked me neurologically, I cried like a baby. More from the idea that this would cost money, that I was inconveniencing my family, that I didn’t know what to do when I got hurt. If it was a kid I would fly into action. But me? I have to be 100% all the time. I ventured to Starbucks this morning because I deserved it. I wanted to laugh when I saw how much was on my card. Geez. The devils in the details and he sure as hell has been digging into our family all.year.long.

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