My work is piled up at present and I have deadlines I have to meet. I was pretty sure that this was not something too serious – yet if I am feeling unwell, of course I want a hand to hold. I can not afford time off work, however, not an issue of money – although this is always an issue – but rather an issue of time. The deadline does not stop because I do for a few hours. What if, however, I don’t go? What if they say that actually something is seriously wrong and I am not there with her to support her? I decide that I will pop home on my lunch break and see how she is.
Come lunch time, the doctor has advised her to go to the maternity hospital just for a check up. Both my wife and I feel that this is completely unnecessary. She was aware of the baby moving and was sure it wasn’t pregnancy related – what scared her was the possibility of fainting alone at home. I suspect it was the doctor covering her back. Nonetheless I drive home, pick up my wife and head for hospital. By now my wife is feeling much better. A two hour wait and we are seen by our lovely midwife who is able to confirm everything is fine, and is just as confused as we are about why we are there!
I pick up a coffee and head back to work – with the plan being that my wife will then take the car home with her and pick us up a few hours later from work (“us” being me, and my assistant who I drive into work).
By this time I am very keen to get back to my deadlines, and am perhaps driving slightly faster than I should be. My wife says to me “40” and I assume she is pointing out that there is a speed camera coming up, so begin to slow down, realising too late that I have just passed a speed camera – the ticket and the fine will be on its way. I am now feeling pretty miserable. Of course, this means I am not paying proper attention to the road and nearly plow into the back of someone a few metres up the road. As I am drinking a coffee at the time I manage to cover myself with it, as I slam on the brakes (I never said I should be allowed to drive a car!).
I finally get back to work at 4pm covered in coffee and feeling sorry for myself. My wife picks my and assistant up at 6.45pm. We had arranged to pick up a chair from freecycle (check it out for getting rid of old junk and getting stuff for free!!) so I had borrowed a work van. We now had to drive for 20 mins, pick up the seat, drive 30mins back to ours, 30 mins back to work, drop the van back at work so it can be used at 7am today, pick up my car and drive home again. We still needed to fit in eating, and helping the assistant prepare a talk for a youth camp he is going on in a few days time.
I finally crawled into bed at quarter past silly o’clock and should have been feeling pretty miserable…and would have been…if it wasn’t for the fact that now dominating my bedroom is a glorious beaten up chesterfield arm chair. ;o)
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
