The Call

5am on 22 April, 2008 and nothing could have prepared me for what was on the other end of that line. Everything from that call is blurry, gun shot, 3,  and amputation were the defining words that kept ringing in my head after I hung up the phone. I was ready to go to Iraq, I was ready to go find my husband and make sure he would be ok but in reality, all I did was hurry up, and wait. Wait for a phone call, wait to be told where I was going and wait for everything to be ok. Hurry up and get all my i's dotted and t's crossed, bags packed and arrangements made. Three days later I was living in a house with families of wounded service members with very little privacy in a new city and a husband who was not the same as when he left me. Eight surgeries and 21 days later, he left the hospital and I was the person who had to help put all of our pieces back together, while still recovering from my own injuries.