Sorry for a break in posts. We had somewhat of an emergency, or what my husband likes to call it: an adventure.

I wasn't sure how to title this one. I sat here for who knows how long just trying to think of something quirky/ intelligent. Sadly, "The First Fall" is all I could truly come up with that made complete sense.

So, normally I don't really blog about what my husband does. Considering he's in school at the moment and isn't technically doing it for a living yet, I just stick to talking about him as a student. Even though he is clearly working towards what he wants to do, and his job at the moment is in his field (just not completely full time)... but anyway!

Wednesday was one of his days off. So, naturally, he planned a trip to go climbing. Since his climbing partner came our way last time, it was Clark's turn to venture a little farther from home. About two hours or so away, and not in cell phone reception until he got out of the forrest.

As always, Clark wasn't heading home on time. I've come to understand that when he tells me a time, I should add anywhere from thirty minutes to four hours on it. Yes, that's a large window of time, but that's the way it is. When I was flying back from Kansas he made the oh-so-smart decision to go climbing before he came and picked me up. Naturally he was an hour and a half late and Michael and I had to wait in the USO.

But I digress...

So, 7:30pm (Wednesday night) rolls around and we had said that if I didn't hear from him by 8pm that I should be worried. When we say that, the goal is usually for him to be home by that time, but that really never happens.

I went ahead and texted him and waited. Not getting a response, I automatically assumed the usual, which is, "Something didn't go as planned."

It's never been serious. Usually they didn't allot enough time or the hike in was difficult or something minor happens. Of course, last time a boulder almost took out his climbing partner.

This time was Clark's turn.

Clark fell. There's no way to explain it because I wasn't there and his pictures don't really capture what he was trying to explain to me. Apparently he had to go over some sort of ledge, had a good hold and enough grit under his shoes... but he slipped. His feet gave out on him, and he was in an awkward position as it was, and he fell.

Clark fell. On his face. I got the, "I'm lucky I was wearing a helmet," quote. That wasn't very comforting.

So, when I finally got a phone call I was told that he fell, he was fine, but they were heading to the ER to make sure he didn't need stitches.

I got goosebumps.

Here it is exactly 8pm and he's a good hour and a half away. There was no way I could get Michael into the car as a happy camper (since he was still awake at that point) and drive to get Clark if needed. I was already stressing.

So they get to the ER and I get a text from his climbing partner who had then been appointed as the messenger because, wouldn't you know, Clark needed stitches and they had already given him morphine for the pain.

All this time I'm trying to get a hold of someone, realizing that we really have no one close, save our babysitter, who could come watch Michael in order for me to go pick my husband up.

His climbing partner offered to take him to his home, but I knew that Clark was not going to want to have this opportunity to meet the family and such. He would want to be home. And I knew for a fact he was already hurting because I wasn't there with him.

God intervened and lead me to a good friend who always seems to be there when we need him. He was able to get Clark (who wasn't finished until around 11pm) and drive him home for me.

14 stitches, a clean CT scan, a McDonald's stop, a Walgreens stop (pain meds), and five hours (after I had heard from him) later, Clark was home.

I must admit my pity had left me and I was more angry. I held back the best I could (since I got to vent with a good friend for almost three hours) and, after a little time, "babied" him for a good 24 hours.

Now, be warned, pictures are next. There is a "before" picture, aka no stitches or anything. This is what my husband does. What he's going to do.

God bless wives of professional climbers.

Before Stitches, Day #1


Day #1, When I first saw him


Day #2, Taking it easy


Day #4, Starting to heal


Needless to say, he's going to have one wicked scar.