Broken Rings and Ladders to the Head

No doubt. My husband's job is dangerous. But I can say, I haven't really had much anxiety about his job. I know a lot of wives talk about being fearful or worried when their husbands are on shift (And rightfully so. I definitely don't want to diminish the validity of their feelings) but I've gratefully been void of that emotion. My husband's first "accident" happened while hopping on the truck to go on a run.

He placed his hand on a railing in the truck and as it was pulling off, said he heard a pop. He looked down at his left hand when he felt some pressure on the inside of his palm. The top of the hand was ok. He turned the same hand palm up and realized that his wedding band had snapped and the broken and stretched band was pressing into his finger. No blood. His lieutenant asked him what happened and my husband showed him the busted ring. That's when my husband learned about the nine finger club and the many fireman who hadn't been as fortunate to keep all ten of their digits. Disaster averted. Whew! A couple weeks later we went to a tattoo shop and he had a black band tattooed on his ring finger. I like all 10 of my husband's fingers. 

The second incident happened the eve of my birthday. A friend of mine took me out to a posh little Thai restaurant downtown and we had a great time. Being only five minutes away from my husband's firehouse, I was going to call him and see if we could come visit him. Before I could dial his number, my phone rang and it was his voice on the other end.

Husband- "I just wanna let you know, I'm OK."
Fiery Wife- "OK....... What happened?"
Husband- "A ladder fell on my head. We had a basement fire and I was outside when a strong gust of wind took a 30ft ladder and blew it off the building. I was wearing my helmet."
FW- "A ladder?!? Are you going to the hospital?"
Husband- "Yeah, a ladder....."

I couldn't help but giggle a little. He seemed to be in good spirits so I truly wasn't afraid.

Husband-"I'm on my way there. They're making me go."

I'm thinking, of course they're making him go.... This is the man who got in a car accident three years ago; and dazed and bloodied, refused ambulance services and preached a sermon eight hours later, lucid as a lightbulb. I forced him to go to the ER after he preached (That was our agreement. I never agreed with the ambulance refusal.)So, back to the the whole ladder situation.....

FW- "Is your head split open?"
H- "No. But it dazed me."
FW- "Do you think you have a concussion"
H- "No. But I have to go."
FW- "Are they taking you to the downtown hospital?"
H- "Yeah, but you don't have to come."
FW- "Uhhhhhhh, we're coming."
H- "No seriously don't come. I'll call you and let you know what's going on."

5 minutes later Friend and I were at the hospital. There's no way that I wasn't going to show up. The security guard at the E.R. entrance told us the wrong room and I totally walked into room 37 and was met by a very confused and sick older woman. Not my husband. As I apologetically backed out of 37 and walked into room 30 (the correct room) I saw my husband, sitting on the hospital gurney looking cute as can be; a hospital gown on his torso with his fire pants (I don't know what they're called...) and boots still on.

Husband, Friend, and I laughed and cracked jokes and met the attending E.R. physician who was also a believer. We waited too long and texted and cracked even more jokes. We met some of the other firemen who also fell victim to this vicious ladder. I was happy to see my husband on his 24-on. I was happy the degree of his injury was a sore back the next day. I thought he may come home, but he's new and excited about his career, so we drove him back to his station and he finished out the rest of his shift. I was happy to see him the next morning tired but in tact. I was grateful.

Critters in the Attic

Ohhhh. There's a critter in the attic. The pest control people came, quoted us $250 to put 2 cages on our roof and check them every day for 5 days then take the critters alive "off site" to sneak into someone else's attic. What a waste! The soffits need to be fixed and our land lady has been dragging her feet on getting them replaced. I nagged a new roof out of her and was absolutely exhausted afterward. I had to tell her the ceiling was going to crumble into the house before she began searching for a roofer. She ended up cutting corners and hiring someone who would do it for cheap (just like all the other "upgrades" in the home).

They're not so cute when they're jackin' up your attic! 

 Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to be living in a house (I've lived in apartments all my life) and usually I can look upon these things as adding character to the house just like a good scar on the forehead. The squeaky floors- sound character, the water logged ceiling with the flaking popcorn stucco- visual character, the missing kitchen cabinet door- shabby chic :) With all the charm and trouble this house has been, I don't want to move again. 

Almost 4 years ago we moved from Chicago to Columbus. We heard the call to ministry and we moved. I was 5 months pregnant; had just made tenure at my Chicagoland teaching job (I was going to be a "lifer") and my husband had a great job at a local hospital. Combined, we were almost earning 6 figures. We left it all, except our clothes and beds and moved to Columbus for the Lord. We lived with friends for a year, had our second son, and endured through his Sickle Cell Disease diagnosis at birth. We moved into our own apartment, My husband took the fire fighter test and we waited and waited and waited. 

I took a 50% pay cut to work at a Christian school (it was that important to me) and was hired to be the Worship Director at our church. We waited some more. My husband started the background process with the fire department and we waited some more. 2 years from the beginning of the process, he got into the academy! Woo hoo! I quit my job to better focus on our family, and we invited my mother to come live with us forever once she retired from her job in Chicago. We moved to this lovely house; she moved in a month later, and I started a private music lesson business. I'm tired of movement and transition. 

I truly don't care that there are critters in the attic (I know I should) or that the soffits need to be replaced. I just want to be somewhere long enough to get tired of the paint color on the walls. I want to know each divot in the lawn of our back yard. I want to know where the groundhogs live and grow a bigger garden. I want to dig my toes in the carpet and hide under a blanket on my couch over and over and over again and still be doing that habitual movement in the same place 10 years from now. I want to be still like a sycamore and grow deep gnarly roots. I know pruning needs to happen (even to sycamores) and maybe this is my season of being cut back but I pray there is a season of stillness somewhere near cause then maybe, I'll have time to worry about critters in the attic. 

Fiery Wife