Last night was a scary time on the bridal caboose. Still lightheaded from my brush with judicial greatness, I got a phone call from Joyce in the EMERGENCY ROOM. That's about the last place I want anyone to call me from. She had been riding her bike home and got "doored" by a passenger in a car (from Iowa) and took a nasty tumble.
Thank Heavens Joyce is OK. She's not thrilled about the sapphire blue sling that now supports her splinted arm. I don't blame her one bit, though blue is a really, really good color on her. Who wants to be injured in the last few weeks of summer. Thank God Joyce was wearing, as she ALWAYS does, a helmet. The staff at Illinois Masonic hospital was attentive and thorough. The nurse who put the splint on told us that bike accidents happen all the time. I asked the nurse what he recommends, from a health and safety perspective, for people who want to bike in the city. He said to just assume an accident involving a car door will happen to you. Maybe it was just me, but I wasn't particularly assured by this "advice." I have been telling Jeff for weeks he is not allowed to ride his bike in the city. Luckily we are both too busy to tool around town in a bike. But, seriously, he's not allowed to ride the bike in the city.
Jeff and I both left work when we got the call from Joyce and headed to the hospital. On June 2, 2005, I went to the same hospital to see Joyce who had been in a much worse car accident on the highway. That time I left a work conference and went to see her by myself. Last night while we were lounging in the cubby hole the hospital assigned to Joyce, I was thinking how grateful I am that (1) Joyce can visit the emergency room with slightly alarming regularity but end up ok, (2) I can show up for her because we are truly family to one another, and (3) Jeff really is part of that family. It's moments like when we made the decision to just go to the hospital that I know Jeff and I have the same values and priorities. People come before work. People come before exercise. People come before money. And when Jeff told me to steal a few pairs of rubber gloves for upcoming painting projects at our house, I also knew we had the same sense of humor. And, then when I realized he wasn't joking, I re-learned that I treasure what Jeff can do that I simply just cannot: think through a situation relate it to a future home improvement project. I was aware in the moment that I was in the middle of understanding something about family and coming together.
I was having an "I'll be a great mother some day" moment when I was tying one-armed Joyce's tennis shoes; and I could see in Jeff a very fatherly demeanor when he was taking care of her bike and thinking through the best way to deal with dinner last night.
I would prefer not to learn such lessons at the emergency room, but since everyone is alive and in one piece I guess it's ok. And if Illinois Masonic is reading this, yes, those two pairs of rubber gloves were pilfered from your premises last night around 6:30 p.m., and thank you for taking care of Joyce.
EVERYONE wear your helmets!
Thank Heavens Joyce is OK. She's not thrilled about the sapphire blue sling that now supports her splinted arm. I don't blame her one bit, though blue is a really, really good color on her. Who wants to be injured in the last few weeks of summer. Thank God Joyce was wearing, as she ALWAYS does, a helmet. The staff at Illinois Masonic hospital was attentive and thorough. The nurse who put the splint on told us that bike accidents happen all the time. I asked the nurse what he recommends, from a health and safety perspective, for people who want to bike in the city. He said to just assume an accident involving a car door will happen to you. Maybe it was just me, but I wasn't particularly assured by this "advice." I have been telling Jeff for weeks he is not allowed to ride his bike in the city. Luckily we are both too busy to tool around town in a bike. But, seriously, he's not allowed to ride the bike in the city.
Jeff and I both left work when we got the call from Joyce and headed to the hospital. On June 2, 2005, I went to the same hospital to see Joyce who had been in a much worse car accident on the highway. That time I left a work conference and went to see her by myself. Last night while we were lounging in the cubby hole the hospital assigned to Joyce, I was thinking how grateful I am that (1) Joyce can visit the emergency room with slightly alarming regularity but end up ok, (2) I can show up for her because we are truly family to one another, and (3) Jeff really is part of that family. It's moments like when we made the decision to just go to the hospital that I know Jeff and I have the same values and priorities. People come before work. People come before exercise. People come before money. And when Jeff told me to steal a few pairs of rubber gloves for upcoming painting projects at our house, I also knew we had the same sense of humor. And, then when I realized he wasn't joking, I re-learned that I treasure what Jeff can do that I simply just cannot: think through a situation relate it to a future home improvement project. I was aware in the moment that I was in the middle of understanding something about family and coming together.
I was having an "I'll be a great mother some day" moment when I was tying one-armed Joyce's tennis shoes; and I could see in Jeff a very fatherly demeanor when he was taking care of her bike and thinking through the best way to deal with dinner last night.
I would prefer not to learn such lessons at the emergency room, but since everyone is alive and in one piece I guess it's ok. And if Illinois Masonic is reading this, yes, those two pairs of rubber gloves were pilfered from your premises last night around 6:30 p.m., and thank you for taking care of Joyce.
EVERYONE wear your helmets!
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