The PH: loving, caring and oh-so-sensitive

Yesterday's soccer game was a little rough on my-- ahem-- "older" body. I took a ball to the back of the thigh that was almost hard enough to leave the manufacturer's name imprinted back there. Then, with only a few minutes to go in the game, I was defending this woman who tried to take a shot on goal. I have a habit of turning my head at the last second when this happens in order to protect my face. And this time, it paid off. Instead of breaking my nose, the ball whacked me in the back of the head hard enough to send me to my knees and have me shaking my head to get those cartoon birds from flying around it.

On the way home from the game, I was telling the Pretend Husband that I felt fine, but what if it was just a delayed reaction... like the one that killed actress Natasha Richardson when she fell while skiing? And could he please tell my family I love them? And perhaps wake me up every hour overnight to make sure I was OK?

The PH-- tired of my dramatics, I'm sure-- said, "Maybe we should stop at the hospital on our way by and have them take a look at you."

"That's nice of you to say," I replied. "But what about your family's picnic we have to attend this afternoon?"

"No problem," the PH said, "I'll just drop you off at the hospital and go to the picnic by myself."

Go ahead, dear readers. Remind me again why I am so lucky to have him...