Thursday, July 16, 2009

No Worries

Keith and I are enjoying a Botany and Mycology (fungus) Conference at Snowbird, UT. We presented our research Monday and are now learning about all sorts of plant and fungus things from fungus and plant relationships in the arctic tundra, to a grape attacking fungus, and native uses of plants in China. In the mean time, here is a story from last week...

I am going to be one of those mothers who worry over everything. Case and point:

I was at work when Keith (who was working from home) sent me a text: "I'm kinda dizzy today. Maybe I won't go play laser tag..." (The Elders Quorum had a game that night).
Being the sweet person that I am (and I needed him to look up a number for me) I called to see how he was. No answer.
No worries. I went back to work, but I still needed that number so I called him again. No answer. He was probably on the toilet, on the phone, getting a snack, whatever.
Went back to work. Called again. No answer. He was probably playing music really loud, watering the garden, doing the dishes, on the phone with his grandma.
Went back to work. Called again. No answer. He was probably singing in the shower, doing laundry, clipping his toenails, on the phone with Obama.
Went back to work. Called again. No answer. He is probably passed out cold on the floor.

I tried to make myself think of anything else he could be doing except lying comatose on the floor, but nothing came to mind. I tried to talk myself out of driving the 5 minutes home, but it wasn't working.

I got in the car. An ER doctor had once told me that brain damage can occur after being unconscious for only 2 minutes. It had been 10 minutes. I should have left earlier.
I pull into our numbered parking stall, turned the key, and *ring!* That was his ring tone. He obviously wasn't comatose on the floor or severely brain damaged. And I felt rather ridiculous.

And he hadn't been on the phone with Obama either. After texting me he had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water when he noticed a large hornet outside on the balcony starting to build a nest. Grabbing the kitchen towel he went to defend the castle. After killing the hornet he noticed that the door was shut, and locked. After failed attempts to break into the apartment he walked barefoot to the main apartment office to get a spare key. Upon returning he saw the missed calls on my phone, remembered his last text, had a light bulb go off in his head, and called to tell me not to worry.

Too late.


Whitney Hardie said...

Katie, I love this story!!!

You have no idea how many times I have planned Joe's funeral in my head and wondered how I will handle life as a widow just because he's running late from work or doesn't call me back.

I feel your anxiety - and your sheepishness.

Sarah said...

I'm SO the same way! Not, ya know, about husbands, but there was once when Maria and Tim were forty-five minutes late picking me up for a group date. Another time, we almost called the police in California because my roommate "went to the temple" for eight hours.

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