The pain of miles

Got a call.

Mom, ever the adventurer, got caught in a bad snow storm between Anchorage and Fairbanks and had an accident.  A brief email.  “I’m trying to get ahold of  you.  Call me asap.  -Aunt Cookie.”  Damn Arctic wilderness.  Damn not knowing for the hour it takes them to get her to the nearest town where they can airlift her to the nearest hospital what sort of shape she’s in.  Bump on her head?  Trouble remembering things?  Severe pain in her back?  This is not detailed information.  “More details!”  I would demand of my students.  Can’t do that with people who just don’t have it to give.

I hate being this far apart.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

EDIT: it’s 2:10 where I am and I just talked to Mom.  She’s having trouble remembering short term stuff, but seems okay.  No broken bones even though they found her upside down, suspended by her seatbelt and have no idea how long she’d been there.  She has no appetite and is spending too much time worrying about things beyond her control, but thankfully my aunt and mom’s boyfriend are both stepping up to take care of all that might worry her.  No idea when she’ll be discharged.

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