Unexpected curve balls

So, the day started with being woken up by our home phone, just a little early, which immediately had me on the alert.  We didn't get to it in time, but realized it was my Dad, calling from Australia.  He never calls at this time, so my full alarms went up as I dialed him back.  He was bright and cheery for a 93 year old at 10.00p.m at night, and I thought, well he may have just got the time wrong or something.  But, no.  He went on to explain that the fall my Mum took about this time last week, which I knew about, had done some damage.  My mum has had a couple of "mini" strokes which have led to black outs and falls, one where she broke her ankle.  She had fallen last week again, and my dad had trouble getting her up, and from then on she had suffered pain throughout her leg and hip.

Good news, no broken hip, or ankle, although bone deterioration not good in the hip, but knee torn up again, bad news as it was operated on for the second or maybe third time just earlier this year.  I was put in the "keep you informed" line and hung up with a number to reach my mum, now in the hospital, back in Australia.  So, I go about the day, which is always hectic at least, and suddenly notice a message that asks me to teach vocals for the afternoon as well as a private vocal lesson.  I lock in, and am preparing to fill in some vocal classes as well as my private lesson, just one?, or so I thought.

In the midst of all this carry on, Rog, hubby extraordinaire, is hanging all our guitars on the wall, and finds a beautiful Tacoma guitar that I bought him eons ago, has the neck broken from too tight strings.  So, we pack it up and take it over to the guitar shop, and as he is working that out, I am shopping in the thrift store for one of my upcoming shows I am directing.  We come home, both feeling like we have achieved what we set out to do, and I go to attend to my email, and then, oh and then.  My hubby calls out as I hear a thud on the floor in the library, just off the kitchen, and find one of my twelve year old twins, Jada, on the floor in a grand mal seizure.  No time for anything, but damage control, so Rog, absolute infinite partner, husband, lover, friend, calls 911, while I keep her in the best position while watching her stiff and convulsing from head to foot, rejecting panic, and only accepting wisdom, and calm to keep control of this sudden turn of events.

911 is amazing and fast, so we are at the ER within about ten minutes of the beginning of the seizure.  I am thinking this is not so great a day, but at the end of all of it?  Well yes, Jada, is probably going to need  medication for epilepsy, a condition her biological mother has, but the reason for all of this?  Well Jada is a fetal alcohol baby, with mild CP, and was cleared, cured miraculously from a three prong heart defect several years ago, but there was always this little nagging thought in the back of my mind, which I put down to "oh ye of little faith", but it turns out, that God did take away the big bad major stuff, but we may be left with a sticking heart valve.  If not for the seizure, we would not know.  Praise God.