It wasn’t enough that my husband’s feet were shattered, or that my dog had surgery and broke open his wound. Yes, we needed another obstacle to overcome. I was alerted to a flat tire when I stopped for dinner at Chick-fil-A. Since the tire hadn’t completely deflated, and my house was only a mile down the road, I got myself some dinner and drove the car home. I would just have to use my husband’s car to get around for a while (which was another mess, because his car was still at work).
Three days later, after three weeks in hospitals, my husband was finally coming home. A hospital bed smack dab in the middle of our living room awaited his arrival.