I got into my car after work today and sat there for a minute before starting the engine. My first thought was “I can’t wait to tell Dave about my crazy day”. Five and a half months later, that instinct is still there.
He would have been appropriately outraged at my moving violation/ticket today. I was leaving my cardiology appointment and apparently turned right at a light where this is not permitted. I considered giving Officer Bender my full on sob story (pulmonary embolism, blah blah blah, hospital, blah blah blah, husband died, blah blah blah) but in the end, I just accepted my ticket like a big girl. Although we would have poked a little fun at the officer’s expense for telling me not to get out of the car. Where did he think I might go?
Dave would have laughed with me when I told him about my strange doctor’s visit. When Dr. B was typing on the computer and giving a running commentary which included, “Wow. Your blood clot was really big. We got lucky on that one.” Or when the nurse completed my EKG, said “hmm”, then came back to check the leads and said, “well, they are all on right. Okay, the doctor will be in in a few minutes.” I would have told him that I spent the next ten minutes stressing and trying to read the EKG read out to see what caused that reaction. (Apparently nothing as the doctor said everything looked fine.)
Finally, I would have told him about my day at work. We would have talked about the highs of the day of which were quite a few and any lows of which there weren’t really any. He would have given me his two cents on a few things and a little advice.
I miss that.