Monday seems like the last care-free day. I was beset with first-world concerns, such as securing a sagging curtain rod and composting tomato plants, while wondering whether the ‘Stros v Cubbies World Series could really happen. The condo board met at my house that night, earnestly debating policy on clotheslines and EV charging stations.

Then I got the call no one expects. My husband suffered a medical emergency. Was it only yesterday? The hours in-between have been a blur of kind strangers, firemen, waiting rooms, clinicians, gurneys, hospital beds, beeping machines, plastic tubing, fluorescent lighting, acronym-laden tests. He is stable now, but I suspect life may henceforward be divided into before and after Monday.

What I observed about myself was how resistant I was to accepting the reality that this was a Serious Event. I raced out to retrieve my husband and, I thought, bring him home. I didn’t call 911, and I was surprised by the seriousness of the EMTs. I thought the urgent care clinic might do just as well as the hospital, then I thought the overnight observation period would be cursory and uneventful. I wasn’t cavalier, I was complacent: Well this isn’t fun, so let’s get back to our regular lives, as we surely will do soon, as we always do.

A shadow stretches a menacing appendage into our lives. Will it grow into a constant companion, or recede into a faint memory?

I have been honored to know, now and in the past, many inspiring examples of friends, family, and strangers demonstrating courage, endurance, optimism, stoicism, generosity, persistence, and hopefulness in difficult circumstances. I hope I can move forward with similar gumption.