Anyone who is a regular reader will know by now that my son is a long-distance lorry driver and so is away during the week. He usually leaves on a Sunday afternoon so that he can arrive at his first destination promptly, hitting the floor running, so to speak.
This week, I received a rather scary text from him at 7.30 Monday morning. His partner was suffering from chest pains, had called 111 and paramedics were on their way to her. Could I please make my way to their home? They have three children. By the time I arrived, the ambulance was outside the door, the paramedics were doing their tests, the children were in various stages of dress and mood.
The 9-year-old was properly dressed in school uniform, with packed lunch ready to go but understandably hysterical. In floods of tears, refusing to leave her Mum’s side, not wanting to go to school. The male paramedic gently took her to one side and as I entered, he was speaking very softly to her explaining that she would be helping Mummy most if she went to school – Mummy would know she was safe, there was nothing she could do if she was with her Mummy because they had to do some tests so they could work out how to make her better. He promised they would bring her back before the end of school.
Gradually we were able to disengage her from her Mum, and she allowed the ambulance personnel to load her onto the ambulance and whisk her to the hospital.
She arrived at school a little late but they were informed of the home situation and were given my number to contact if necessary.
Mummy did get home just after lunch but wisely rested while I did the school run. The children come out at slightly different times, so after collecting my younger grandson, I went to her collection point to find granddaughter was already out of her classroom standing close to her teacher. A bit dishevelled but no tears! Until she saw me, then the flood gates opened and she howled the wail of pain. I went over to her and took her in my arms. Through her sobs she explained, “Mummy must still be in hospital, because you’re here, not her!” I explained that Mummy was at home but she was having a rest. The sobs stopped; she dried her eyes but gave me that unconvinced look. Once we got home and she saw her Mum, gave her a hug and checked that it really was her, I saw her whole bearing change and relax. Seven hours of anxiety lifted.
She had been so prepared for the day to start with and then this event happened and knocked her for six. She was too intelligent not to realise the possible implications of the pains. Some reassurance helped but the core anxiety remained. In her mind she had run through various scenarios. She told me later she hadn’t been able to concentrate during the lessons. Her mind was working overtime. When she saw me in the playground, she thought her worst fears were true.
She had to see her Mum and feel her and touch her to be sure. This reminded me of the Easter story. The disciples thought they were prepared for anything but the crucifixion of their friend and Master, shattered that. Even reassurances that they would see him again soon, weren’t enough. Many reached their own conclusions; their anxieties got the better of them. But when they saw Him, spoke with Him, touched Him, they believed.
Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed’. John 20:29