The Call

On April 23, 2011, I got the call that I’d been dreading since we got married.

Armed with a caramel frappuccino, I was enjoying my first PTA board meeting. Ten minutes in, my phone vibrates. The kids are at my friend B’s house for the end-of-the-soccer-season party. One of them probably spilled juice all over themselves.

It wasn’t B. It was Mike, one of my husband’s coworkers who I hadn’t seen or talked to in two years, not since we left Virginia. Why would he be calling me–

Oh sh*t. My husband.

Though if the worst had happened, his friend wouldn’t be calling me. His friend would be at my door.

But still. F*ck.

I quickly excused myself from the meeting and went outside. “Hello?” Still confused. I knew it was Mike.

“Hi, it’s Mike. Boats’s friend. I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else but he has been in an accident. His car rolled over and they’re taking him to a nearby base. He’s going to get surgery.”

I am surprisingly rational at the oddest times. I thought about what he said. My husband wasn’t dead. He’s going to be fine. His friends weren’t at my door. I replied, “So… okay. He’s going to get surgery. He’ll get fixed and go back out?” My husband was a tough old bird. He often said the only way he’d go to a hospital is if he had bones sticking out of his body.

Silence.

“Um no. he’s going to be transported to a base for surgery, then to Germany for another one. He’s coming home.”

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One thought on “The Call

  1. I’m so happy to be a new follower (from the mil-spouse fill in) and just been doing some catch up here on your amazing story. Thank you for sharing it with us. You have quite an amazing family and you have been through so much. Thank you again.

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