Last year, Sarah Dessen wrote several blog posts about her husband’s bicycle accident. I think he broke his pelvis…and maybe his collarbone? Either way, it was not good.

Last week, Meg Cabot’s husband broke his arm when he swerved his bike to avoid being hit by a car.

Yep…you guessed it. I am now playing nursemaid to the latest husband of a famous and highly successful  aspiring YA writer. Luckily, nothing was officially broken. His ribs may be cracked, and he definitely yells like they are every time he tries to sit down, or get back into bed, or coughs. Don’t even make him laugh! He also has a lovely bruise/contusion the size of half a grapefruit on his lower thigh. In reality, he was very, very lucky and I am very, very grateful to the whole first responders/paramedics/doctor crew here. Plus a few neighbours.

I like taking care of him so that’s no hardship at all (ask me again in a few weeks!). And I got to ride in an ambulance just like the character in my new book. That was pretty exciting. That might sound very writerly callous of me, but at that point I knew that while things might be broken, he apparently had not punctured a lung.

I pretty much knew he was going to be okay when the paramedics asked him if he was cold and he said, “I was fine until y’all took my britches off.”