Our marriage started out pretty much as most newly wedded couples do with the exception of a horde of children. Busy days of working, cleaning cooking, paying the bills. My husband career choice was building houses, it was his passion. It paid the bills and he enjoyed working with wood. This was in the early 2000’s and we were in our early thirties. Not thinking much about the future only living for the day and feeding hungry children.
That eventful day started off like any other day, with a kiss good-bye and a “be careful”, he was a carpenter after all. I went about my daily routine of cooking and cleaning until… the phone rang. It was his business partner, Bobby. I knew something was wrong by the sound of his voice. It was quaking, he sounded like he was going to cry. Then he told me, “The building collapsed, Bill is hurt!”. I think that’s what he said, I blanked out at that point. All I knew was my newly wed husband was being air lifted to the nearest trauma unit in Atlanta.
Bobby tried to explain the best he could, “The storm from the previous night torqued the building’s frame out of position”, “We were trying to straighten the frame and the trusses (roofing frame) broke from under Bill’s feet. He fell 16 feet to the concrete and the rest of the build fell on top of him”. “I thought I killed him!”
As soon as Bobby could get to the house, we drove to Atlanta. Bill was is pretty bad shape. Eleven broken ribs, broken collar-bone, twelve stitches to the head. I never once thought how I was going to take care of him, only how I was to get him home. I thought I would have a day or two to figure that one out, but silly me, this is Bill we are talking about.
As Bobby and I were driving to Atlanta, Bill and the Doctor had made an agreement. Bill wanted to go home and the Doctor wanted him to stay. The Doctor told Bill if he could walk to the counter and check himself out he could go home. Well…that’s exactly what he did. After bumming a cigarette from the nurse on duty, having a brief smoke, he dragged his butt back into the hospital. The orderlies poured him back into the bed. That’s my husband. Is he a Titan? I think he would have made a good one.
Juiced up on more morphine then most people could possibly handle, he waited for us to bring him home. I was utterly surprised when the hospital released him. I had no clue how I was going to take care of 6 foot 3 inch, 225 lb man with a ba-gillion broken bones. This was the start of our new life together. This was our first challenge. Could we handle it, would our marriage make it? I had to make sure he would survive his injuries now and those to come.