Only my husband would break his collar bone on the way to work, and still go into the office for a full days work. When he came home that evening I took one look at the mangled mess that used to be his left shoulder and sent him straight to the hospital, after he ate his dinner of course. However, my anger at him for not wearing his safety helmet has overshadowed any sympathy I might have.
PAUL: When I started to fall, I felt like a complete asshole for not wearing my helmet.
ME: You are an asshole for not wearing your helmet.
Later, after he had some problems connecting a logical thought.
ME: Are you sure your head is OK?
PAUL: Well, wouldn't you rather have a dumb husband?
ME: A dumb husband vs. a smart husband?
PAUL: No an annoying husband?
ME: How about a dumb and annoying husband?
My lack of sympathy has been magnified by the fact that until he heals, he is limited on what he can do with the children. The worst part is that he can't pick up the baby when she cries. So if I want to take a shower, it had better be a quick one, and when I take Asia for her evening walk (which used to be my evening ritual, my hour alone to myself, my moment of peace and quiet, my sanity saver), I have to strap Maggie to my chest.
The most optimistic estimates have Paul healing in 4-6 weeks, but everyone we've talked to knows someone who had the same injury and had to undergo physio-therapy after healing to rebuild muscle strength. So it might be several months before he can pick-up Maggie again.