The second week of kindergarten, I got a phone call from the school. “Your daughter fell off the monkey bars on the playground, and her arm doesn’t look right.” This was coming from a school admin, as the nurse wasn’t there. She couldn’t say for sure, but we both knew it was broken. I drove to the school and walked into the nurse’s office, where my daughter was sitting perfectly still and perfectly quiet. She was wearing a blue sleeveless dress, holding her bent forearm, bewildered by what had happened. Then, she looked up at me and cried. I held her and tried to comfort her, but I could feel myself fading fast. As the medics looked her over, they doubted the seriousness of her injury because she wasn’t crying. “She’s in shock,” I wimpered, mentally flicking them off, but physically slumping over onto the cot alongside my daughter. Read more >
