Oh No!

Oh No! Oh NO! That's him! That's definitely Mikey's voice; what am I gonna do? What am I gonna DO?!

"Ok. Ok. What hospital did you say? St. Francis? Ok. Ok. I'll get there. Tell him I'll get there." I hang up.

"MIKEY'S BEEN SHOT!!"

So, that's how my girls learn about their brother. In a nice, calm, rational manner. The house phone rings. My recent graduate answers it. You guessed it - the dryer is on the way.

"Get dressed; April, you have to stay for the dryer. Tabby can stay here, too. I'm going to St. Francis, where Mikey is."

(Both girls together) "NO! I'm coming!"

Of course they're coming. What was I thinking? I have no idea what to think. I'm still stuck on, "Your son's been shot several times. You should come." "What??!??!"

"Ok, both of you get dressed. You're coming with me. I'll call grandma and grandpa to wait for the dryer. Hurry!"

Yep, my parents are still in town because of April's graduation 2 days before. This is good. I dial their cell phone number. My dad answers. Can you say, "instant replay"?

Me: "Dad. You and mom have to come now. The dryer is on the way and Mikey's been shot. We have to go to the hospital right now. Please can you just get here in 5 minutes??"

Dad: "What?"

He thinks he's put the phone to his bad ear. He puts mom on the phone. I repeat myself. Mom says, "What?" It's like PeeWee's Playhouse. "The word of the day is 'what'. Whenever you hear anyone say 'what', scream real loud!" And I want to. But I can't. I explain that they need to please come. Please. Now. I have to get to Mikey. Please. That is all I can say to them. After an eternally long 5 minutes, they understand and will be at my house within 10 minutes. Good. Because I still need to get dressed. Instead of doing that, however, I call my good friend, Charity.

"Hello?"

"Charity, this is Melissa. Mikey's been shot and he's at St. Francis hospital. WHERE IN THE HELL IS ST. FRANCIS HOSPITAL???"

That's right. I have forgotten the location of the hospital. I need someone with a calm voice to tell me how to get to the hospital. Now, I know very well where that hospital is. Everyone in Tulsa knows where the pink hospital on the hill is. I could have driven there practically with my eyes closed any other day of the week. Not today. She understands at once. (She does NOT say "what". I do not have to "scream real loud".) She tells me how to get there, and then asks me if Mike is still in town. Mike? Mike? Oh, Mike! My ex-husband. Mikey's dad.

"MIKE! He's still here! I have to call him!"

Can someone be rationally hysterical? I think maybe I was. I knew what I had to do. I'd logically thought out everything. I needed everyone to get dressed. I needed to inform everyone about where I was going, figure out how to get there and explain why things were urgent. I even needed to get someone here for the dryer delivery. Why think about the dryer? Because I had to. The phone call for the delivery had come in as my mind was in the process of shifting into "emergency" mode. It had become part of my emergency. What if my parents had not been available? I honestly don't know what I would have done. Everything was of equal importance in my mind at that time. Everything was an emergency. That sounds strange, but there were no number one priorities. Everything was equally important. I'm just glad my parents were around to help me solve the delivery problem. It would have taken me longer to get to the hospital because I would have had to take the time to sort out priorities; I was not in any condition to do that - obviously.

I hang up from Charity and call Mike. He says, "What?! Wait a minute. He was WHAT?" The word of the day.

I finally make him understand that he does NOT have time to take a shower (I had woken him up), that he needs to get to St. Francis hospital. Yes, he remembered St Francis hospital. No, he didn't need directions; he still knew where it was. He would go there right away. He would probably be there before I got there because he wouldn't have to wait for someone to show up to accept delivery of a dryer. Ok. Good. I go to the bedroom to get dressed.

The delivery van and my parents show up at the same moment about 5 minutes after my conversation with Mike. The van blocks me in - naturally. The desperation and panic must have immediately shown on my face. Mom says, "Take the car. Just go." The girls and I jump into my parents car. It's been 15 minutes.

More of the same...sort of.

It's been two years since I last posted. Maybe it's because the last two years have been a near repeat of the first several posts on this blog. It's like my life has been just like that movie "Groundhog Day".

Well...almost.

Involves the same kid, of course. Involves a life-threatening event, too - again, of course. However, the circumstances are definitely different. The repercussions have lasted until this day, and will continue to echo through our lives, well...for the rest of our lives.

How about if I just explain it to you?

Again, this involved household appliances. Whereas in 2009 it was plumbing and air conditionining that were troubling me and needing attention, in May of 2010 it was my dryer that had gone out. My parents had come to Tulsa to watch my middle child graduate from high school (a whole 'nuther story), and decided to buy me a dryer. I did not ask them to; I had been washing clothes and hanging them outside to dry. My daughters' complaints of "hard towels to dry off with" probably pushed their sympathy buttons and they decided to buy the dryer so that their precious little grandbabies (ages 13 and 18) would not have to scrape their skin off with the rock-hard towels I was forcing them to use. Yeah, that sounds about right. Oh, and my ex was in town, too, for the same reason. (To watch his daughter graduate, not to buy me a dryer.)

The graduation happened on the 20th of May. It was nice, there were plenty of pictures taken, and a good time was had by all. Two days later, I was waiting for my dryer to be delivered, when my cell phone rang. My cell phone? I could have sworn I'd given them my home phone. I didn't recognize the number, either. What time is it? 8am. Huh. Well, I must've given them my cell number because I was told it would be delivered between 8am and noon, and they would call before they delivered it. Here it is 8am. How pleasant! For once, I am the first one on the delivery list. Yay! So, I guess I should answer my cell. Still, it's strange that I gave them my cell number. I never give out my cell number for stuff like -"Hello?"
"Hello. Is this Mike's mom?" Not at all what I expected to hear from the delivery guys.
"What? Who is this?"
"This is Mike's roommate's mom. Mike's here in the hospital, he's been shot several times, you should get here as soon as you can."
"What?!"
"It happened at about 5 this morning. You should come to the hospital."
"What?! Who is this!!"
"He's at Saint Francis hospital, he asked me to call you. I don't know why nobody's called you. You should come right now."
"Wait a minute....what?!"

Don't be frustrated with me. I thought it was the dryer people calling me. It's ridiculous. My son can't be shot. This woman has the wrong "Mike's mom". Mike is a pretty common name, after all. How did she get my number? This does not make any sense whatsoever. I thought it was the dryer people calling me. What is this woman talking about?? And not shot once, or just "shot", but "shot several times." No, my son would not be shot any times. There is definitely some sort of mistake. I need to find out who this lady is trying to call.

(Background) "Mom...I've been shot ... I'm gonna die."

Oh my God, that's my son's voice! This is real. I am the right "Mike's mom". Oh, no!