Last night, en route to a welfare check, my wife called.
“Are you busy?”
I’m on a call.
She paused.
What’s up.
“Can you call me when you’re done?”
Is it an emergency?
“No.”
It’s busy. I’ll do my best.
She wouldn’t call unless there is a problem. I’m worried.
My first job is to take care of my family.
When I clear, I call.
What’s wrong?
“If you have time, could you stop by?
I think I am having an allergic reactions to the vaccines.”
She’d been to the doctor’s the day before,
had shot shots for tetanus, whooping cough, pneumonia:
all the bugs I’m exposed to at work.
I’ll try. There’s only two cars free.
I drive to my house, and stop in before the next call.
She has hives, slowly spreading from the shot spot.
I check her back. It’s not bad.
It can wait until the morning.
I can go back out and not have to worry.
