The other night my husband, a.k.a my knight in shining armor, was stopped in his tracks by a painful pulled muscle in his chest. Not a good thing for a man who does physical labor for a living.
I love my man dearly but to get to him to admit that something is wrong with him is like asking our weatherman to get the forecast right…It rarely happens!.
When my husband actually made the Doctor’s appointment, I grew worried. What wasn’t he telling me? How badly was he hurting?
He refused to let me go to the Doctor with him, telling me he was concerned I would contract some horrible disease in the waiting area. (Translation…If it’s bad news, I need time to figure out how to tell you.)
During the time that he was gone, my mind replayed the last 33 years. Though we’ve weathered lots of storms together, the one thought that kept going through my head was…”This is the man who wakes up next to me each morning with a smile on his face and a loving embrace!”
I kept staring out the window thinking, “Just let him drive up and say he’s OK … He’s the best man in the world… He is everything to me!”
When my husband came home, I knew by his expression, the news was not catastrophic. He said the Doctor told him if he behaved (no heavy lifting until the muscle healed), he would be back to his old self in a few weeks.
Those words were music…A SYMPHONY… to my ears!
