My music teacher, who everyone loves, had an allergy attack yesterday during school. It was to the sinus infection medicine some *apparently* dipshit doctor prescribed her. They had to take her to the hospital during school. Her dad, a professional musician, was in town, and since she was in the nurses' office "not feeling well," he was working with our class. The nurse was coming in about every ten minutes and whispering something in his ear, and every time he looked more and more distressed. Then one time she came in and said "I need to talk to you outside." He went outside, came back in after a few moments, said "I have to go" and left. Left a class of 50 12- and 13-year-olds wondering what was happening to their beloved music teacher.
The bell rang about five minutes later, and I went to the nurses' office to ask what had happened. That's when I found out about her allergic reaction. She told me that they'd brought her to Montgomery General, and that she was going to be fine. But they have to tell me that. They don't want to worry a little kid. Of course, I was worried! They brought her to the hospital. You don't bring someone to the hospital for nothing.
That was yesterday.
Today we found out that she was in fact home and (relatively) OK. But I was still worried. So I sent her a text message, not caring if I had to pay my parents for the conversation. I sent her a message asking if she was OK, and when she was coming back, and of course, telling her we all missed her.
But that was all I could do.
Send a text message.
A little piece of wording via cell phone.
And that's how you feel powerless
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