My heart skips a beat when the hospital, nurse or social worker’s name appears on the Caller ID screen. 

“This is Susan.”  “Hi, it’s so and so and I want to let you know we have Chanda here and she doesn’t appear to be feeling very well.”  “Ok, tell me more about that.”  “She seemed to be heading for a seizure so we gave her some medication to make it stop and now she is resting.  She shouldn’t come back home on the train by herself.” “Ok, I say, let me figure out a plan and get back to you in a few minutes.”  All my calls to Chanda go right to voice mail.  No response to texts.

On this particular day, it was the morning of a camp program set to begin at 4P.  My departure time was scheduled for 2P. It was 10A. I live and work 1.5 hours from Boston, where Chanda gets her care.  There was a ton more to do in terms of camp prep. It’s amazing how quickly I can go from someone not prone to asking for help to someone who will call acquaintances to ask if they wouldn’t mind terribly going hours out of their way to help. 

A friend did just that.  I alerted additional friends and neighbors and made a plan to cover camp, including a new plan to come home that night rather than stay at camp. By the time 6P rolled around, Chanda was … mostly annoyed that such a fuss had been made, angry that epilepsy got in the way of a productive day, and … Fine: no more seizures, clear. Thank you to all of our friends who helped us this day and many other days. Together, we are strong enough.