The Cucumber

My husband is one of the fortunate ones to be eligible for an immunization as protection from the evil monster that lives among us. As we drove to the skin piercing site I had a mix of emotions ranging from elation to trepidation to relief to pure awe at the wonders of science. Not surprisingly, the site was buzzing with activity with lots of folks coming and going from the building. We found a parking spot and he entered the building while I waited in our vehicle. He texted me when the shot was complete and he was seated in the waiting area with a sticker to let him know when his required 15 minutes of observation was finished. 

Shortly after his text, I heard a wail of sirens and I hoped the noise would soon fade into the distance. Not to be. An ambulance roared into our parking lot and a nurse standing by the entrance was waving it down. Soon a fire and rescue vehicle came blaring in the lot with a police car following close behind. The entry ramp is now lined with people trying to maintain a social distance protocol while the ambulance personnel prepare to enter the building.

Meanwhile I am frantically texting my husband to see if he is all right. A little back story before I continue. My husband struggled a little with the authorization form. One question asked about serious reactions to food or bees. Technically he is supposed to carry an Epi-pen due to an incident with an outraged rogue wasp that flew into his pickup while he was driving home one day. The wasp took a dive for his temple and a little while later we were in acute care. He has always felt this was a one-off incident and was unwilling to say that his reaction was serious. And he didn't want to wait in the observation area at the immunization clinic for 30 minutes rather than 15 so he checked no on the bee sting question.

Of course, my mind is going wild as I see the ambulance arrive and I immediately texted him, asking if he was okay. For whatever reason, he decided to respond in a way that could be interpreted as masking a serious issue. My imagination needs little goading and we are not in the habit of texting cutesie things to each other so I am now craning my neck to see who is being carried out on the gurney. 

Just when I was ready to head toward the action, I saw my husband nonchalantly walking out of the building. He walked past all the action with nary a second glance. When I asked him what happened he calmly said some lady was passed out in the entryway. He said he just stepped around her and made his way out. He hadn't heard the sirens or seen anything out of the ordinary prior to exiting the building so my texts had fallen upon less frantic ears.

For a brief moment I felt I might need to ask the ambulance for a two-for-one special as I took some deep breaths and tried to calm myself. In true cucumber style, my husband patiently listened to my woes and then started the vehicle. Enough drama for one day. Here's hoping round two is a little less exciting.