So it's been a week since the incident. That's what I'm calling it now. The words seizure, wreck and accident cause the kids to get that worried look on their faces so I'm trying to be careful with the words I use. Sydney has stopped bursting into tears whenever it's mentioned. I still get teary-eyed, but I'm guessing that's normal.
Unfortunately, I cannot get away from it. I'm of the "it was a terrible thing for all of us to go through, but we're trying to get on with our lives" way of thinking, but every time I turn around, someone in our neighborhood or someone at church (also the boys' school) asks me about it. Or worse, I hear little whispers as I walk by: "Oh, she's the one whose husband had a seizure and crashed the van with the kids inside."
I don't mind answering questions and accepting the heartfelt concern that everyone has. I really don't. The offers of help and sweet words have meant the world to me (both in real life and in the cyber-world). However, like in any small(ish) town, there is a fine line between concern and gossip and I am most definitely not liking the feeling of being the subject of gossip. I try really hard to not gossip about other people (to the extent that I've distanced myself from a friend I really like and get along with because she likes to gossip when we get together) and I wish others would do the same. We purposely didn't talk about the incident on Facebook or publicize it on our Sunday School class's Yahoo group so that we could avoid being the center of attention, but here we are, right in the center anyway.
It will all blow over and in a week or two, someone else will have some kind of crisis and become the focus of the whispers; I already feel sorry for whoever that someone is. I guess it can't be controlled, but I sure don't have to like it.
On a lighter note, I was able to finally meet the wonderful lady who stopped to help Ryan and the kids during the incident. It turns out that she works at our favorite grocery store and for three straight days I tried to to catch her at work to say thank you. Despite the feeling that the people at the service desk were about to label me a stalker, we finally caught up with her on Saturday and properly thanked her for all she did. She and I both cried and I gave her the biggest hug imaginable. I'm fairly certain the nearby customers thought we were both nuts, but I don't care.
On an even lighter note, I've been trying to focus on the humorous situations surrounding the incident such as:
* When the paramedics opened the van door to ask if the kids were okay, Liam informed them that he needed to go potty. Well, they asked if he was okay, didn't they?
* When they asked Sydney if Ryan was allergic to anything (as in medications), she replied, "He's allergic to cats." I don't know if they laughed or not, but how could they not?
* When Ryan asked Sydney how I reacted when I arrived at the scene, she told him that I was so upset that all I could do was talk really, really fast. My secret's out: I'm a fast talker when I'm nervous.
* Every time someone mentions what happened, Evan announces, "I didn't cry at all." He's right. He was the only one who didn't cry.
* One of the Super Bowl commercials we watched this past weekend showed a man having what appeared to be a heart attack in his car. Sydney declared, "Hey, that guy's having a seizure in his car, too!"
It may seem a bit strange to focus on the funny things, but it's a whole lot better than focusing on the "what if" things. We certainly can't change what happened, but at least we can find enough to laugh about. After all, laughter is the best medicine.
Two Weeks Later
23 hours ago