This morning, everything went wrong.
David had two morning appointments at the Denver VA. The drive takes a little over an hour, so we got up early and tried to expedite. Even so, we were cutting it close by the time we left the house, so David hurried going out the back door – and fell.
I caught him but couldn’t get him upright, so I lowered him to the ground. Then I went in search of a neighbor. None of my usual sources were home, but little Vanessa from next door ran over to help. The two of us got him up and back on track without even a bruise, but we’d lost time.
Then, of course, traffic in Denver was horrendous. Trying to park at the VA was worse. We wound up in a metered pile of plowed snow, hoping we wouldn’t be ticketed for sticking out so far into the street. By the time we got ourselves into the building, we were 30 minutes late for David’s first appointment.
I hate being late!
They’d given his time slot to an early bird, which makes sense, so we waited. And waited. By the time the tech rolled him back to a little room for the first appointment, he was already late for the second one. After half an hour of being heaved about, prodded, turned, and invaded by cold instruments, David settled into his wheelchair and looked up at the tech.
“Do you like your work?” he asked.
“I love it,” she said. As she took us down the maze of corridors to his next appointment—for which he was now extremely late—she talked animatedly about how she likes to help people and how her job lets her do that. The next tech, also a woman, met us with a smile. David looked up at her.
“Are you missing lunch because of me?” he asked.
This is a big part of why I love this man. Instead of taking away his ability to lean toward people and draw them out, the accident has made David even more sensitive and thoughtful.
Sometimes when everything goes wrong, I get to see how right it really is.