Something happened last week.
Tuesday. 6:45am. Mike leans in to kiss me goodbye before heading off to work. In my groggy and half-blind state I can sense that outside it is foggy and dark. I grumble but hold my head up like a baby trying out “tummy time” and accept a kiss.
“Love you. Be safe.”
For some reason right when I said those words and smelled his clean morning smell I knew something weird would happen. But I fell back into a stupor.
Five minutes later the phone rings and it is him. He is frantic and my heart immediately beats like a tiny bird’s.
“You have to come and pick me up! I think I broke my ankle. You have to come now. Please!”
I got up and raced around, trying to stay calm but also trying to think about what I need to do to get myself out of the door. It seemed from the time he called me to when I reached him was forever.
The entire time I kept thinking “Just don’t frickin run him over when you come to him.” It was so foggy and dark that it was a true concern. Plus, I’m not all that used to driving our new manual transmission car so my legs were having a tough time coordinating themselves.
This is one of the worst moments in my life. Knowing he is hurt and not knowing how much or how it happened. Feeling a little helpless in my stupor state. Feeling it could all just spiral down really fast if I don’t get my frigging mind right.
I ended up driving right past him. He later said that was one of the saddest moments of the experience, adding a bit of insult to terrible injury. Ha oh.
The rest of the week was filled with appointments and then a surgery. He ended up breaking his ankle really really good. In three places.
The break is not the worst part. It’s the knowing that you won’t be able to do the things you love for a really long time. Like asking a songbird not to sing or a ballerina not to dance. Or something else more macho-sounding.
This is a big hit for someone that is exceptionally active like Mike. That relies on activity to stay happy. The reasons we came here – to surf, to hike, to skateboard, to snowboard, to do anything – have all been put on hold for months and months.
It does not seem fair. And that is life.
I hurt for him. But it propels me that much more – to help, to fulfill my own needs so I can help better, to be brave.
Now our new adventure is to get him back on his feet fully so we can do the things we love. Getting our minds right so we can get our bodies right. It feels like a new chapter yet again. In the end I believe it can only make us stronger.
Provided we don’t break more ankles.