Earlier this week I got a phone call that, at the time, knocked the wind out of me. From the sound of His voice, I was worried, then came the call that gut punched me. "The ambulance just left and they took Him to (local level 3 trauma center). It's bad, very bad."
When He went back to work, there was an accident and a truck tire went over His lower leg. Apparently, from the point of impact and the way things looked, it looked like He at least broke His right (driving) ankle, possibly shattering it.
After rushing to be by His side, the doctor gave us the best possible news. Miraculously it is not broken, just a very very bad sprain that is going to keep Him out of the truck for at least 2 weeks. It could have been worse, He could have broken or shattered it.
Since that day, I have been in some weird frenzy I can't really describe or explain. I have been very Suzy Homemaker, or what passes for Suzy Homemaker for me. I have been very protective, watchful, and even worried.
I haven't been sleeping well or eating right, I have been ignoring muscle twinges and aches because I don't want to take attention from Him or cause Him to think in trying to get out of helping Him by complaining of a sore muscle. His muscle issue right now is more important and more severe, mine will be fine and I can take care off back and knee when He is well and back to work.
He will be fine, daily physical therapy and weekly doctors appointments until He is behind the wheel again. I am having dinner ready for Him when He gets home and making His lunch every day for Him. I am trying to make things easier for Him as He recovers, I just hope I'm not crossing into the area of hindering instead of helping.
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