The Number One Reason I Love Troy

Last month I received a jury summons, asking me to be available for this entire week. I registered online and held on to the little card with the phone number one it. I was supposed to call the night before to find out if I needed to appear, starting on Monday.

I wasn't worried. I'd been called to jury duty several times and never had to go in. Calling to check each night was mildly inconvenient - but that's all I had to do. Actually having to serve did not even occur to me. I went ahead and scheduled things all week - orthodontist appointments and swimming lessons for the boys, etc. I wouldn't have to go in, right?

I think the biggest reason I was in such denial was the location of the court. It's downtown. I do not drive downtown. Ever.

Really.

I used to - I worked close to downtown and drove on errands and generally made my way around the city, doing what needed to get done. It didn't seem like a big deal. So what changed?

Well, I got married to a guy who loves to drive. Troy can find any place in any city. He's comfortable on the roads and so for the last 19+ years, he's done all the driving whenever we are together. I've gotten used to relying on him. We also live in a suburb of the "big city", but that suburb has pretty much everything I need. I can go months without leaving my little corner of the map. I'm used to it here.

But it's not just that - not just that I've grown accustomed to not driving downtown. It seems there is an anxiety issue that has developed in recent years.

In my head or not, it was very very real and very very apparent after I called on Monday night and found out that I had to appear in court on Tuesday morning. I listened to the recorded message three times to make sure I'd heard it right. Apparently, people actually do have to show up.

As it sunk in that I would have to go downtown, my mood became tense and irritable. I had a stomachache. I was pacing and worrying about all the things I'd have to deal with in driving downtown. It was all I could think about - the driving...the driving! The actual possibility of being on a jury didn't phase me, the inconvenience of taking off work and leaving the boys, not a problem. It was the thought of driving out of my comfort zone and into the downtown area. It was making me physically ill.

If Troy was going to be home, he would simply drive me there and pick me up when I called. No question, he would do that. But he was leaving that day, so I wouldn't have a way to get home.

"Take Trax.", a few people suggested. That's a good idea, really, it's just that I've never been on Trax, and the thought of navigating that by myself just about put me over the edge of my anxiety attack cliff.

Troy went over his "best way to go" directions. Each instruction built up another worry.

It would be rush hour - I haven't dealt with that in over a decade.

The bad storm on Monday - roads could be icy.

If the roads are wet, the glare off headlights is horrible.

I've never been there before - what if I couldn't find it?

Troy started rattling off freeway and exit numbers and saying things like "Make sure you're in such and such lane or you'll miss it." I started feeling like I was going to throw up.

Finding a parking place.

Parallel parking. Starting to sweat.

And with the storm, what if the roads aren't cleared and there is no parallel parking and I have to navigate a...a...(gasp)...parking garage?

What if I make a turn onto what I think is a road and all of a sudden it becomes a freeway that I can't get off of and then I'm late ? I started to shake.

What if...what if...what if...

And that's how I ended up in the fetal position, crying, on a Monday night.

Hey, for some people it's flying or public speaking.

Here's where Troy saved the day and my sanity: He got up hours before he needed to - being late was not an option and he didn't even question why I wanted to leave an hour and a half early - and drove alongside me to the courthouse. He led the way, a knight in his pickup truck, and I followed in the Explorer.

He did take the freeway route however, and I called him on the cell to whine.

"I'm in hell," I said, tensing up over the high speed and the snow and ice and all the other racing cars. "Just to let you know."

"I know. You're doing fine."

"H-E-Double toothpicks, Babe. Did we have to take the freeway?"

"It's rush hour - I'm getting you there on time. Stay in this lane."

"I hate this."

"You're doing fine."

And then we took an exit, made a turn or two, and lo and behold, we were there. He found me a metered parking spot, half a block from the courthouse. I turned off the engine and a wave of relief washed over me. I had made it.

Troy waited while I ran inside to get a parking permit to put on the dashboard. I hugged and thanked him for the millionth time. I was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold - the relief was followed by an adrenaline rush, and I couldn't stay still. I was giggling and shaking and trying to do some deep breathing to calm down. He hugged me tighter.

We said goodbye. Troy turned his truck around and headed back home. He got a few more hours of sleep before he had to drive to San Francisco. He shrugs it off, but really, that's the nicest thing he ever could have done for me.

Thanks, Troy. I wouldn't have made it without you. You are the best husband!!! Thank you for putting up with me.

I walked back through the snow to the courthouse. Jury duty, here I come.

I was 30 minutes early.

Sweet.