Don't Tell Brad

Don't tell Brad I told you this because he is SUPER embarrassed ... Last Saturday he was trying to fix a problem we're having with our phone lines on the main level of our house. He was checking relays, etc. and needed to get up on the roof. He crawled up on his ladder and was about to step on to the roof, when the ladder completely slipped out from under him. His first thought was, "Oh no, I didn't make it on to the roof!" Followed quickly by his second thought, "OH NO, THIS IS GOING TO HURT!!!" He fell nearly 10 feet on to the concrete and the ladder on his right side. Kate was in the kitchen mopping the floor and I was upstairs working on my YW lesson. I just heard her howl "DADDY!" in that awful, 'something is really wrong' tone of voice you hate to hear. I flew down the stairs yelling "what happened? what happened?" All I could hear was a wild wail of fear and "Daddy, daddy, daddy!" I got outside to find him doubled over and hardly able to breathe (the fall completely knocked the wind out of him) and white as a ghost. After an eternity he started to breathe again and we started to take stock of his injuries. His right leg felt weird and disconnected, and he couldn't put much weight on it. I talked him in to going to the emergency room, just to be sure no permanent damage or hidden injuries were lurking. He was SO embarrassed, because, in a small town you know everyone and everyone knows you! We literally knew all but one person on staff at the emergency room that afternoon. Not his proudest moment having to recount the afternoon's events to them! I was relieved to learn that his leg was not cracked, just deeply bruised. We did figure out, though, as time passed, that he had definitely broken some ribs. The pain was a little late in registering, but progressively got worse as the hours passed. He has been one sore guy! Breathing is not fun, and laughing, coughing, and sneezing about bring to his knees. I feel so sorry for him! But in true Brad form, he hasn't slowed down one bit -- he even got up Sunday morning for his early meetings (even though the Bishopric gave him a pass the night before). He is Frederic, a slave of duty, if there ever was one (hats off to Gilbert and Sullivan!). I've begged him to come home from work a little early every day this week, and tonight when he walked in the door at 5:57 he said, "Hey, I got home a little early today!" WHATEVER!