Lesson #10 - Hope For The Best...Plan For The Worst

There comes a time in everyone's life where they wake up on day and the chain of events which occurs throughout the day makes them say, "You have GOT to f@#king be kidding me!" For the man and I - today was one of those days.

Let us all - for a moment - turn the clock back to my high school days. I always told myself that it would not be wise to date - or marry, for that matter - any man who chose o be a firefighter, police officer, astronaut, king crab fisherman, pilot or was in any branch of the military (yes, even the Coast Guard).

It is now safe to jump forward - but not too forward - to October of last year. The man and I had been together for only a short while, but my mind would always think about the above mentioned what-if scenarios. My thoughts regarding the perfect husband were selfish, I admit. Who isn't selfish once in a while, I ask?! Anyways, my heart would speed up considerably when I considered how I would handle "the call." You know the...there s a voice on the other end that says, "I'm in the hospital, BUT DON'T WORRY...I'M OKAY." Really?!?! Why couldn't you start off with something a little better and ease me into the situation?! Something like, "I saved some child from being kidnapped (this should be replaced with the actual situation which transpired). I may be in the hospital, but you should see the other guy!" Okay, I don't know how much better that would really be, but anything i better than starting a sentence with "I'm in the hospital."

Well, in October of 2008 I got “the call” from the man. He proceeded to explain that while he was in the hospital, the fight was for a justified cause and the other guy really was in worse shape. I later found out that he was speaking the truth, but at the time I couldn’t care less! I was freaking out and sick with worry. Hours later he finally got home with a missing lens to his sunglasses, bruised ribs, a ripped shirt and a dirty face. Apparently he was involved in a little (read: huge) scuffle and, I'm told, the other guy looked much worse. There was no real damage/injury, so I got over it.

Only a short 13 months later, I got "the call" again. Though, this time it was me making the call. I was on my way home from work and decided to call the man at work to see how he was doing. The man answered his phone sounding a bit agitated. I asked how work was going and if he was okay. What came next was completely unexpected. "I am at the hospital. I hurt myself at work and had to take myself to the ER. Gotta go now, the doctor is about to put my cast on," he says.

You can imagine my reaction went something like, "Wait. What? Hospital? Why didn't you CALL me??"

"I am calling you now, but I have to go so the doctor can deal with the cast."

"You didn't call me...I called you. Do I have to go and pick you up?

"No. I can make it home by myself. I'm fine. Really."

When the man finally did get home, he changed and got into bed. He was so tired and so was I to be honest. I didn't get hurt or sit in a waiting room or even drive back and forth to get the man from the hospital. I did, however, spend a hour longer in traffic to get home and a few hours with a screaming baby as soon as I walked in the door from work. As we laid in bed trying to talk about our activities that day, the man stops and look at me.

"Well, I tried not to get myself checked into the ER again. If I were you, I'd be prepared to get another call next December. That is only if I keep up with this pattern, though."

Oh joy! The countdown to "the call" has begun.