It is sometimes amazing to me how quickly an accident can happen. You're going along your daily routine at work, doing the same things, working on the same machines, just minding your business and getting the job done, when suddenly, the fork on a Raymond Reach jiggles loose and you don't make it out of the way in time. This was the case with my husband today.
I had arrived home not ten minutes when I get a call from him; he needed a ride home. When I asked where he was he calmly said he was at the hospital, and of course, upon hearing this I was quite alarmed. He said that he was fine. I hurried to the car and went to pick him up.
When I go to the hospital, he wobbled to the car and carefully got in with his right foot bandaged. As we drove home he told me what had happened. It was nobody's fault, just a freak accident.
Kinda gross, isn't it? I thought so, too. Later that night, we couldn't help but start a philosophical conversation about God, the universe, and why these things happen. We just give thanks that it wasn't worse.
For the next two weeks he bitched and whined about how his toe looked. And at work, he never let his guard down again, always anticipating the dangers.