She gave me life, then saved it, a freak accident–nicked artery when I was eight. I can still see the blood shooting out from my wrist. No pain. I just wanted to go to sleep. I’d been running in the house–slid on the newly waxed kitchen floor–put out my right arm out to stop. Crashed through a plate glass window–that was okay, but when I pulled my arm back, it caught a jagged piece of glass…

My mom was a nurse, a WWII hero who handled the worst battle casualties cases at naval hospital. She didn’t panic when she saw the flood of blood from my arm. I remember her tying something white around my wrist, then slapping my face gently, telling me to stay awake. A neighbor rushed us to the emergency room–no waiting.

I had severed a nerve in my wrist–that required months of shock treatment and daily grip exercise before I was able to move my fingers. Mom shepherded me through this routine.

She has always been my hero, every day, not just on Mother’s Day.

One response to “Mom…”

  1. No matter how many times you tell that story, it brings tears to my eyes. I am glad you have these memories to share.


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