When Empty Nest is a Pain

When I get a call from our son in the middle of the day, it's usually not good news. So in the last 2 weeks there were 2 such calls. Oy! One he chipped a tooth biting into a sandwich. It turned out to be minor, so that was nothing to feel bad about. The next came with "my neck is killing me, I think I need to see a doctor." That one hurts. I say "go to a doctor." He doesn't. I give him all sorts of techniques of heating and icing and what to rest on so the muscles relax. He took the heat advice, but it didn't help. Next is the ice advice. He didn't do it, didn't go to the doctor, nada, zilch. When I text him a few days later he says it's getting better. When we call him a day later to talk about football tickets and e waste, he tells me it's killing him again. Oy!
How I want to jump on a plane and fly there to sooth his aching neck. The impulse is so strong I can see myself doing it. I won't. But 18 years of being a discriminating "doter," makes this an impossible feeling. Hubby seems to just laugh it off. I'm worried. It builds in my mind, "he's slipped a disc," "he has meningitis," "he's alone in his room crying for help and no one is there to help him." This is when the empty nest is no fun at all.