For once I’m in a sunny mood on a Thursday. There’s lots of reasons – none of which I’m going to focus on today. We survived the first week of school with no tears from any of us, received an interesting package in the post and a more interesting tweet on twitter. I reached a couple of blogging milestones which is very nice, 10,000 page views and over 60 people of GFC. Ok there hasn’t been a lot of sleep going on – but other than that – all reasons to be cheerful.
But the thing I want to talk about is a special anniversary. That of still having a husband. Three times in the past few years I’ve had THAT phone call. You know, the one which begins “don’t worry, I’m fine…but I’m in hospital….” Having a husband with a dangerous job means you worry every time the phone rings at an unexpected time, or doesn’t ring when you are expecting it to. I’m pretty good at ignoring the worry. Most of the time.
The last time I got a phone call was about nine in the morning. It caught me unawares. It had been an awful month already. The twins had both caught chicken pox one after the other. Twin 1 was still getting over it when twin 2 began to be really grumpy. Having one grumpy baby is bad – having two is nearly impossible, luckily their big sister had already had it. So it really wasn’t the time to hear hubby had been knocked off his bike. He was very lucky – we were all very lucky. The car went into him and he went right over the handle bars, cutting his legs to ribbons and bruising his feet and calves. It was bad, but it could have been so much worse.
I tried to be sympathetic, but it wasn’t very easy having three patients to nurse, especially when they didn’t do what you told them.
That was about three months ago. Three years ago there was a serious incident at his work. I can’t write the details, I’m not being deliberately mysterious, but it isn’t my story to tell. From what I’ve been told he was really brave and calm, and I’m so proud of him. Over the years he’s had a couple of work injuries including a bite (not from a dog). It’s scary. I try not to think about it. It’s hard to be the one at home, worrying and waiting by the telephone. Though I’m sure it’s harder being out there. The streets don’t feel safe anymore and I’d far rather he was home with me, or in his previous job solving pop related emergencies. Much less to worrying – although people did get surprisingly angry about their fizzy drink products.
So although I complain about his work keeping him away from us I am pleased he’s still in a job and I’m proud of what he does. But most of all grateful. Grateful he’s still here with us, safe and sound.
And the hubby – what’s he grateful for? Well he got a shiny new bike. Great – another thing for me to worry about.