but not for the reason you’d think

My boyfriend and I were cooking a nice homemade dinner late on Saturday night. He is unloading the dishwasher while I stuff dough with meat and cabbage (runzas!). Suddenly I hear the plate shatter on the floor, and I look over and ask if he’s OK. He says no, he got a cut, which is surprising given that there is no blood. Then all of a sudden his foot starts squirting blood all over the kitchen. Frantically, I wash my hands and pat his wound off with a paper towel. We definitely need to go to the ER.

However, before we can leave he makes me clean up all the blood with his bleach spray. And, he attempts to put away all the gauze and other medical supplies that we used to tightly wrap his wound. He is so type A, even in moments like this, it makes me want to scream! Dude... it can wait.

We head to the belly of the beast... the most germy place we could be... the hospital. He strolls in and is taken to get stitches, but they refuse to let me in because of the virus.

I am now sitting on the couch drinking wine by myself waiting for him to give me the OK to go and pick him up. He has already informed me that he has passed out once, potentially seized, and was told he has abnormally low heart rate. It’s FINE. Everything is gonna be FINE.