When She Calls   4 comments

Velda, on a happier day, with Payton.

Velda, on a happier day, with Payton.

When your significant other calls to you after an incident … you know when there is something wrong. You know what I’m talking about. When they call, their voice is different.

Different enough that you actually pay attention to what they’re saying (or maybe that’s just me).

Different enough that you get an adrenalin rush when they call your name.

Different enough that you prepare for anything – anything – that you might need to do.

In two days, Velda has done this twice.


And that is quite enough, m’lady.

Angry At Plastic

Last night, she was preparing dinner, making lotion, and flitting about the kitchen with too much on her mind. She was making Pasta Carbonara when she couldn’t get the garlic out of the Ziploc bag.

It. Wouldn’t. Open.

Velda didn't get the fruit arrangement quite right ... but then, no knives or plastic bags were involved. Just Walter.

Velda didn’t get the fruit arrangement quite right … but then, no knives or plastic bags were involved. Just Walter.

She violently tore the bag open, and her hand flew across the cutting board only to contact the blade of her newly sharpened Santoku knife, neatly fileting the skin on the middle knuckle of her middle finger. She said it was the worst cut she has sustained while cooking.

And she wasn’t even holding the knife.

She called my name, and I came running. Of course.

She assured me that she did not require stitches. She said so each time I asked. 5 times. I did supervise her first aid, got her the appropriate antibiotic ointment and knuckle Band-aid. And then I went out to get her more knuckle Band-aids.

Did I come running when she called? You bet.


The incident this morning is much darker in nature, unfortunately. She called me shortly after 9am, after arriving at her place of employment (she’s a nurse practitioner, stationed at a skilled nursing facility, AKA nursing home). She told me that a gunman had entered the nursing home, shot his sister – a patient – and then told a nurse that he would wait for the police to show up.

Velda, completing the Turkey Trot in San Dimas last month. I couldn't be prouder.

Velda, completing the Turkey Trot in San Dimas last month. I couldn’t be prouder.

She called me while this was going on. While the gunman was still loose in the facility. While her safety was my only concern … and she refused to leave. She called me again after the police arrived and took the gunman into custody. No one was in danger after the shooter shot his sister, come to find out.

One of the news reports, below, is calling this a mercy killing. I’ll leave that judgement to God. What I do know is this:

  • Velda called her boss right after she called me, and got her boss and her boss’ boss to the nursing home quickly.
  • She helped the bosses craft a communication strategy, and the team now on site began telling their patients and patients’ family members what had happened ASAP. They didn’t wait for corporate permission – they just did the right thing and started communicating.

I couldn’t be prouder. I could be a little more happy with her … after all, she called me with that voice and then refused to come home as soon as possible. Rather, she stayed on site and took care of her patients.

I’ll forgive her for that. After all, she called me first.


SCVNews.com: SCV Man Arrested….

LA Times: Man Kills  Wife, Then Goes To Nursing Home….

HomeTownStation: Santa Clarita Shooting Death….

Being Human

Posted December 12, 2013 by henrymowry in Living Life

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4 responses to “When She Calls

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  1. Oh my goodness, how frightening. It’s terrible knowing the one you love is dealing with a crisis and not being able to help.

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