Never Take Your Life for Granted: Yukon and I Learn a Lesson

Just yesterday morning Yukon and I were having a conversation over the telephone about our need to slow down our lives, just a bit. Too much going on too quickly, we agreed; further stating our commitment to have "quality family time" for the remainder of the week and as much of the weekend as we could.

Cruel, cruel irony coming up.

With the weather looking lovely, I bailed on my writing assignment for the day, fitting it into my "after bedtime" writing time, and went running with The Dog. Picked up Bear from school and took him to get a Happy Meal because he earned a sticker for speaking German all day at the German Halls of Higher Learning. So far, so good. Even better was a phone call from my friend, a physical therapist for all things shoulder, arm, and hand (this is important), asking if Bear and I would like to hike with she, her two children, and old golden retriever. Of course we would.

A quick phone call to Yukon to say we might be gone when he arrived from his Wednesday-to-work bike ride, and off we went. Gal Pal and I had a lovely conversation about Life and how it never seems to go as we plan, but how of course God knows the Plan and we need only just chill about it. Fair enough.

Returned home well past the time Yukon was to have arrived home. No Yukon. Odd. Perhaps he left late since we were not going to be home, but it was only a 30 minute ride, max, from the VA to our house.

It was due to snow, so I was out in the back yard picking up dog stuff when I heard Yukon's voice and a car door slam. There he was, limping gingerly towards the open garage door, cradling his left arm in the right. "I got in an awful crash," was all he said, and the angel who picked him up off the pavement agreed. "I thought that damn pothole swallowed him right up," said our samaritan (who I shall love forever).

Emergency Mode. Threw Dog in kennel, threw boots on Bear, took him next door with chicken nuggets and french fries, wiped forthcoming tears of fright, helped Yukon into car, helmet, boots, and all, and sped off to hospital.

Five hours and a barrel of pain meds later, Yukon is the proud owner of a severely fractured elbow requiring surgery and many, many months of rehab. Surgery forthcoming as soon as swelling goes down.

Long night, and a sick kid was added to the equation around 4 a.m. I am operating on adrenaline. Yukon and Bear are operating under the influence of some stuff I wish I had.

But we learned something. Yes, we did. If you don't slow down, God will do it for you.