This weekend, I experienced the most scary moment of my life. (The first, you'll remember was when my hemophilliac husband sanded off the top of his finger two weeks after we got married, you can read about it here and here.
Saturday, Jay was driving home from meeting with a client, and gave me a call to tell me he was on his way home. He told me that he was a little worried, and probably shouldn't be on the phone because it was storming pretty bad.
My husband is a tough guy. Growing up with hemphillia and being told that he could participating in things like organized sports, made him want to prove to the world that he could do anything. A kind of John Locke "Don't tell me what I can't do." attitude, for all you Lost fans out there.
So when he calls me and tells me that he's driving 15 MPH because he's scared of the storm? It worried me a little. For whatever reason we continued talking, and I told him to pull over if he needed to, there was no sense in getting hurt in the name of getting home on time.
Out of the blue he dropped the phone, and I heard some expletives. Then he picked the phone back up and gave me the back news.
A power line had fallen on his vehicle.
(click to enlarge)
As you'll notice in the picture, the line had fallen right on his vehicle and gotten stuck between the driver's side mirror and the driver's side door.
"What do I do?"
"Hang up, and dial 9-1-1." Then the phone went dead. Had he hung up to call, or had an electric current fried his phone?
So I called my dad. His phone went straight to voicemail. Then I called my mom. "Can I call you right back?"
Seriously? But what she wanted to do was talk it over with my sister and brother-in-law who were in for the weekend. She called me back in less than a minute, telling me that I should probably call 9-1-1 myself.
"9-1-1, where is your emergency?"
"My husband is on 416 and a power line hit his car. [voice cracks] His phone went dead so I'm not sure if he was able to call it in or not."
"His name?" It took her only a moment to look up the call records to see that he, infact, had called it in. So that meant his was safe, momentarily at least.
I continued to pace the floor because he wasn't calling me back.
I'm very thankfully that I had housework to do to keep my mind off things. I'm 100% sure it was God looking out for me, because on a typical Saturday I would never still be cleaning at 9 in the evening. Without that house work to keep my mind busy while I was waiting by myself, I would have gone crazy.
He finally called me to let me know what was going on, and apparently his cell coverage was spotty in the area that he was stopped. By the time he called the police had arrived with a bullhorn (they weren't getting near him) telling him to stay in his vehicle and the electric system would be there to get him out in 40 minutes.
Then he asked if he should call his parents. I told him no. No way he should worry them. I told him he could always call and bring them up to speed after the electric system had him safe and on his way home. I could tell by his voice (he doesn't admit it, but I think he was scared) that he wanted to, so I told him to call them to chat, but not to tell them what was going on.
I'm very thankful and praise God that all is well. With the minor exception of the side of his vehicle. Its scratched up from the wire hitting it, but that we can handle.