The Burden

On a Friday night in September, driving home from the hospital after a twelve-hour shift, my car was hit head-on by a truck that ran a red light at the intersection near my house.

I broke three ribs, suffered severe damage to my spleen requiring emergency surgery to remove it, and lost enough blood that my own colleagues, at the very hospital where I worked, had to rush me into the operating room that same night.

Before they wheeled me into surgery, through the pain and panic, the only thing on my mind was Mia and Ethan, home with a babysitter hired only until nine that night.

I texted my mother, my hands shaking so badly a nurse had to read the message back to me as I dictated it out loud: “Mom, I’ve been in an accident, I need emergency surgery.

The sitter’s only here until 9.

Can you and Dad go pick up the kids for me?

Please, Mom.”