That's pretty vague, right? Well that's kind of what parenting is all about.
This specific thing was a text message from Vanessa while I was at work. "Taking Jack to the ER. Can you join me." That sounds equally terrifying and nonchalant. No follow up to be like, "he fell down the stairs and has a bone sticking out of his leg" or "he got stung by a bee and is swelling up." Nothing. Just "taking your child to the ER. May or may not be dying."
So I ran the hell out of work.
With the information I had prior to this text message, I should have been able to piece together what was going on. Jack had been treated for croup earlier in the week. A dose of meds earlier in the week. He had still seemed kind of sickly but not terribly so--just grumpier than normal. Vanessa had mentioned that he had puked that morning as well.
So I should have figured it was croup rented and he was likely ok. But I fucking panicked. Whoa boy did I ever. I was madman on the highway.
As it turns out, unnecessarily. They x-rayed his lungs, determined that he looked fine, gave him a once over and sent us packing. Jack still seems a little grumpy but he is my son...
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