I am feeling totally zonked. Wiped out. I had a good day at work today, but it was a long, long day. Yesterday was a long day, full of running around to appointments. Sunday was a fun day, but a long day. And Saturday was a long day, and really no fun at all. I’m feeling the stress of the past week catching up with me this evening.
Last Tuesday night we heard the news that a good friend of John’s was…and it seems hard to even write this…hit by a truck. He’s alive, but in critical condition. It seems his car broke down on the highway last Monday night, and he was hit by a tractor-trailer while standing outside his car. The full details aren’t known, as he hasn’t been conscious since then.
We’ve been thinking about him and his family a lot this past week, and eagerly awaiting updates. There’s been some improvement. But there are still many unknowns about how things will turn out.
To make it all more stressful, his wife is 8 months pregnant. I can hardly imagine what she is going through, to have her life turned upside-down like this while being hugely pregnant and getting ready for a new baby. They also have a 4-year-old. At least she has family close by. I feel like I should help, but they are 2 hours away, and I’m not sure how I could help. I will try to think of a way to help, especially once the baby is born. But tonight I just feel stretched so thin.
We drove down to the hospital Saturday, with Phoebe. John and another close friend were able to see their friend, though officially only immediate family members were allowed into the ICU.
This is the sort of thing that makes you think. I’ve been looking at those big tractor-trailers on the highway, and I find their size to be so threateningly large, their mass to be so very unequivocally solid. I’ve been thinking about how fragile we are, in our little breakable bodies.
And I’ve been thinking about how we need to make plans and provisions for Phoebe, that we still haven’t dealt with. A will. Life insurance. We need to talk about things that are not easy to talk about. Make provisions for things we’d rather not think about.
It’s one of those times when I feel like I can’t possibly be old enough to be a responsible adult.
collecting tokens 
oh. wow.
that is horrible. sometimes there is so much to bear i dont’ know how we find a way to bear it. and yet we do.
Oh, alejna. That’s so terrible. I hope for the best for them. I’ll try to think of something you can do from a distance…
We have yet to take care of any of that, as well. And it’s wrong, I know it’s so so wrong…but it’s also so human to flat-out reject the possibility because it’s just so scary.
On the good news front, after a week in a coma, he’s responding to commands. He can wiggle his toes and stick out his tongue.
Tractor trailers scare me too. Especially those stories of drivers doing all kinds of stuff to stay awake for long trips. It’s absolutely frightening.
but, lots of good signs already for a recovery.
take care of yourself, okay?
So sorry to hear about your friend.
And go get a will done. You just have to.
But don’t leave $12million to the dog, like Leona Helmsley.
jen-
It’s amazing what people have to go through.
Sage-
It’s nice to hear we’re not alone in being behind in the responsibility business. But I guess that just means you need to get to it, too.
And I’ll take any suggestions of ways to help out long distance. I’m thinking maybe we can at least go down there one day and entertain the 4-year-old and help with laundry.
jwbates/John-
That’s great news. Wiggling toes is such a wonderful thing. We just don’t appreciate it often enough.
k-
Yes, I wonder about the driver of the truck in this case. And I can’t help feeling for him, also. One of my own worst fears is to do someone else harm.
magpie-
Thanks for your comments, and encouragement to get to the will. And I promise you that we will not leave any money to Leona Helmsley’s dog.