A Firefighters wife

There was always a mixed bag of feelings when my husband decided to become a firefighter.  First there was the holy crap I'm going to be married to a fireman and then there was the holy crap he's going to be fighting fires and putting himself in danger.  That definately started to out rule the excitement.  Once he was in the job, my fears disappeared as it seemed like it was more fun for him than dangerous.  He went to a lot of quiet stations to start off with, not too much action in the last three and a half years, until he went to a very busy station.  He absolutely loves it there.  He has been to many fires (which surprisingly I have stayed quite calm about), a few fatalities which have been quite sad and I applaud them even more for having to deal with those circumstances, but it's nights like tonight when I'm at the shops trying to ring him to find out if he wants me to pick something up for dinner, and he doesn't answer.  After a few more unanswered calls I give up and come home to find he isn't even there.  It has now been 5 hours since knock off and those fears start up again, is he fighting a fire, has he been injured. 
Oh well, I'd better get used to it.