With Age Comes Panic

So, I have noticed with age comes panic. When I was younger, no amount of blood or gore would send me into a swooning fit; I simply dealt with what was happening with calm and composure. Or, if there was a tragic or near tragic incident, I simply took in stride and let each moment ride out as it may. That part of my life has left since my thirties hit. I believe this behavior closely links with the belief that we are invincible when we are young, and this illusion leaves us each year we have a birthday.

For instance, on the day Thanksgiving break was supposed to start, my dear nine year old apparently had a battle with the banister and lost. As I entered the classroom I work in, a fellow co-worker informed me that another teacher had just brought my sonny downstairs to the nurse because he walked into something. Now, when I was 20, I would have been like, "Man, that sucks, let me go make sure he's fine." But, I'm not 20; so, it being 13 years later, my first thought was, "Oh my Goddess!!!" and then proceeded to run down the stairs I normally tell students to walk down. When I finally made it to the nurse's office, I saw my son sitting there quite faint from blood loss; blood that should have been neatly contained within the confines of his skull was now covering his face, arm, and hand. Again, my 20 year old self would have simply picked him up, carried him to the car, and driven him to the hospital. But, my 33 year old self freaked out, left the room to get her hyperventilation under control, and began to cry. Then, when I finally regained control of myself, I re-entered the room and re-posted all the attention to my son, which is where it should have been in the first place, and took the clumsy thing to the ER.

Again, tonight I experienced the panic with age thing. One of my many puppies, Einstein, jumped up to attempt pulling a toy out of my hand. But, the little guy is merely a pound and has a spring that is entirely too high for his little legs to support; needless to say, he landed on his head. His body commenced to respond by cramping up all four of his limbs into crooked looking tree limbs and letting out the wettest gurgle I think I have ever heard. I was sure he just died right before my eyes. Again, panic was setting in. I didn't even panic this badly the time my cat was pregnant and miscarried one of her kittens in the corner of the living room; of course, I was 19 then. Again, proving my panic coming with age theory. So, I call the emergency vet line on base, only to get a tech that does not speak English very well and does not understand what I mean when I say his legs are cramping up and one of his eyes won't open. She wants to know exactly what I mean by, "one of his eyes won't open" and "his legs are cramping up". Hmmm, I'm not sure how else to explain this to her, when she abruptly asks me if it would be ok if she calls me back later because she needs time to figure out what I am saying. OK. My dog is what I perceive as dieing in front of me, and the tech wants to go google what I'm saying. Yes, I'm very panicked at this point. I tell her, no, it's not alright if she calls me back later. The situation is laughable now that I look back on it an hour later, haha. Thankfully, Einstein is OK. I think he experienced some shock and panic from hitting the ground. Poor baby. He panics this much at 6 months, just imagine what he'll be like when he's in his thirties in dog years?!