The whole experience was yet another reminder of the potential for entire futures to be changed, destinies manipulated, whole lifetimes altered in just a split-second’s miss-step or faltered judgment.

Yesterday we took N to the doctor’s office for second round of immunizations. After her well checkup by the doctor (“She’s perfect,” he said more than once), during which he talked to us about safety and N’s increased mobility, and before the nurse came in to administer the shots, I decided to change N’s diaper, there on the exam table.

The diaper was just a bit wet, and after I closed it up and tossed it into the trash can, I heard the sickening sound of my dear, six-month-old daughter hitting the hard, cold floor. I looked at the table, but she wasn’t there. Instead, she was at my feet, on her back where she had landed, (thankfully) crying instantly.

She nursed and moved her head around okay, but she did suddenly become groggy and pale, and so after consulting with the doctor, we took N to the emergency room. By the time the ER doctor saw us and ordered the head x-rays, she had returned to her normal self. We left several hours later (thank goodness it wasn’t a real emergency), assured that nothing was wrong. N has since been completely fine.

While in my own self-centered way I did feel, uh, stupid that the doctor had just minutes before finished talking with us about safety and N’s roll-ability, my overwhelming feeling was of sheer petrification at what had just happened and, later, what might have happened.

That was scary.

Yes, I realize that baboon lovers don’t usually go to the park to look at conceited zoo keepers, but don’t worry–after the special effects posturization and the beautiful song I wrote, there is a quick glimpse of Her…