As my friends who are Facebook addicts (as I am) know, I wound up in the emergency room with my youngest son this weekend. He woke up around 2:30 am Friday night, writhing in abdominal pain. My husband was out of the country, and I had to decide immediately what to do. I called 911, the medics came within 5 minutes, and we were at the hospital within 15.
He was in enormous pain. He face was contorted and it took three doses of morphine before it abated and the docs could begin to do the testing to figure out what was wrong. Thankfully, it was simply an intestinal blockage, and all he needed was some cleansing and all was well again.
I called my close friends and next-door neighbors who came and stayed at my house with the other kids and then came and picked us up at the hospital. I am so incredibly grateful to have people I can call at 3 am.
And then around 4 am or so, once my son’s pain was calming down, I felt lonely and scared and thought it would be nice to put a little note out into the online universe so that I wouldn’t be all alone. So I posted on Facebook. I thought both my night owl friends and my friends overseas might be up and around and could provide some company.
They did. And then morning broke here, and my Facebook page was throbbing with love and support and offers of help from all corners of my life. I was like an addict, sitting in my son’s curtained cubicle, checking my page every few minutes to see who else had chimed in.
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