A mother’s greatest nightmare is dealing with her child’s serious injury or disease. My mother had that nightmare rerun each year, without fail, on Mother’s Day, for several years running.
My brother and I seemingly took turns in being the one needing some number of stitches put into some part (or parts) of our bodies.
One year a nail in a fence found its way into my forehead, another a rusty part of a teeter-totter slid through the web between my thumb and forefinger.
Thankfully, the cycle ended without loss of limb or permanent damage.
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