Friday started off as a busy day, and I had thought about doing a post about it. It would have been called something like "Fridays and the Jewish Supermom", and detailed how I spent my day buying frozen unbaked challah bread, throwing together a chicken soup in the crockpot, going to court, and then getting the kids early and making a big dinner.
[At some point, I stopped and realized that this post would come across as First World Programs (since having a career, family and food are all things that I'm lucky to have), and that there were a ton of people who were no doubt juggling far more than dinner and a job.]
Anyway, I got back from doing carpool, popped some stuff in the oven, and answered the phone. It was my husband, telling me that he had just collapsed at the gym. Luckily, my father happened to be at my house, so I had him watch the kids while I got my husband and took him to the hospital. They are running a bunch of tests to figure out exactly what happened. This may have just been some fluke cardiac rhythm - or it could be a sign of a potentially more serious issue that could have caused him to suddenly drop dead.
The crazy thing is that he is far better about taking care of his health than I am. I'm the one who hasn't been sleeping properly and who has been eating complete crap and getting no exercise for the past month, and dealing with it through a combination of stress-induced energy and Red Bull. He's the one who is a serious runner and who makes spinach shakes for breakfast.