Thursday, October 21, 2010


I have mentioned before that I work in heavy industrial manufacturing. Mr. Long-Suffering does too. Twice a year, he works a big blitz at work. Two years ago, when I was enormously pregnant with Bobo, he had an accident. He was injured at work when something broke loose and went flying across the building. He was very lucky. He was hit in the arm.

This morning at my desk, I got the same email forwarded to me by 15 different people. It was a safety notice of a fatal accident that happened during the big blitz that Mr. Long-Suffering is working this week. The guy who was killed is named also named Mr. Most people know Mr. and I have different last names and most of the people prefaced their emails with “That wasn’t your husband, was it?” It was not my husband, but I really think those people should have called instead of emailed. There’s an etiquette and a protocol to these things. If you're notifying a woman that her husband might have just been killed, you should call. Or stop by her office.

It was some other mechanical engineer named Mr. working on that exact same piece of equipment, and if it had happened on day turn instead of midnights or if Mr. Long-Suffering had been working midnights (like usual) instead of days this week it would have been him. Tearing up a little at my desk. OK, actually, tearing up a lot.


  1. I've been trying to think of what to say... and all I can come up with is- thinking of you and Mr. Long-Suffering. I'm glad he's OK.

  2. Oh, you poor thing. Every once in a while the thought that something could happen to D or one of the kids worms it's way into my brain, and the thought alone makes me want to puke. To actually have the fear put in me...well, all I can say is that thank goodness you and the misters are ok.

    Oh, and email? Really? I'm guessing because no one actually thought it was Mr LS. Because if they really thought it was him and they sent emails? They should get slapped across the face with a wet hotdog.