Last week, Mr.42 had a fairly nasty mountain bike accident, almost colliding with someone on the busy bike path that leads into the city. (Note the key word there being bike. It’s a path. For bikes. But some people don’t quite understand that.)
Anyhow, fortunately both parties were not seriously injured, but Mr.42 spent a long afternoon at emergency, where they determined no back injuries were sustained (thank goodness) – but that he’d fractured his radius up near the elbow.
So right now, we’re one week into four weeks of Mr.42 wearing his arm in a sling. If it were me, the use of only one arm for a month would probably drive me nuts, and I’d almost certainly be a grumpy-pants about it. I’ll admit I’m partial to a bit of a whinge (one reason perhaps I started this blog in the first place!)
But Mr.42? Just like with any setback I’ve seen him face, he just deals with it. Takes it on board, with minimum of fuss. And not just tries to work around it, but makes the best of a difficult situation.
This week, I’ve watched him single-handedly (get it? ;)) unstack & stack the dishwasher, feed the cat, wash clothes, take the clothes off the line, change Mr.2’s nappies, play tennis with Mr.5, make breakfast, make me coffee, do grocery shopping, bring the bins in.
Then yesterday, looked after the boys in the morning while I went on my regular trip to the markets…because I know he didn’t want me to miss out. (And if that doesn’t sound like a big deal, Mr.5 and Mr.2 are so super-active, it really helps to have two functioning arms when you’re on your own with them).
And all of that was without any requesting from me.
My ever-resilient, one-armed warrior.
I’m a lucky girl.