When your child gets hurt

This was a text that tested my strength.  I got it three days after I decided to go on a "blog vacation."  I had just begun a daily walk as part of the KC Slimdown Challenge so I read this in a sleep-addled fog at about 5:30am on a Monday morning in front of an overscheduled week of work.

Incredibly, I read this text and then continued on my walk.  Along the way, I grew increasingly concerned and then texted my daughter back an hour later.

Then I looked at her Facebook page.

Frantic?  You betcha.  I woke John at 6:30am and headed to work for some 7am meetings.  Meanwhile, he called both hospitals in Reno.  Carly was at Renown, formerly Washoe Med...listed as "Trauma 5."

He talked to her nurse and then a few hours later, I talked to her.  Finally, we both got to talk to Carly after she woke up.

She was camping with friends at Lake Tahoe.  She borrowed an unfamiliar bike to ride on a trail and the brakes didn't work.  She realized she wouldn't make a curve on the road so decided to ditch it in a clearing but wasn't aware of the 8-foot drop off.

The result?  Broken wrist, cracked shoulder, broken ribs, punctured lung.  She was not wearing a helmet so God was watching over her.

I have never felt so helpless.

When your kids are small and they get hurt, you take 'em to the ER and they get fixed.  Been there, done that.

When they are adults what are we supposed to do?