There’s still an hour left of today - which was Kate’s birthday. Matt’s event and this passage of Kate’s have made me ponder my children’s past - and mine. Not reminisce, more like ponder. More thought, less pleasure. I took pleasure in them, my children; I’m not so pleased with me. How did I do as a mother? Did I get a passing grade? Who’s counting?

It’s not as if I have a lot of time on my hands to go into this at any depth. I’m spending my time at the hospital with Matt, or else slogging to and from by subway and bus and in between through slush and ice and snow with wet, precarious feet. (I guess I need new boots.)

When I get home I’m not good for much. Not thinking, not cooking, not eating, barely functioning. I have an imperative for this. It’s a quote from Moonstruck. Cher says (to Nicolas Cage), “Snap out of it1”

I’ll try.

It’s a long way off but it is there. My son came through his surgery okay, uncomplaining but hungry. I stayed with him all day, helping when necessary but letting him doze. (I did crossword puzzles.) Yesterday was Sunday, so not much doing, a good day to gather one’s strength. Today we will begin to discover what lies in the future and how long it will take, and where. I’ll stay away in the morning. Number One on Matt’s list is a cast, now that the pins are in. Number Two, apart from other physical necessities, is a major decision: where will he live/recover for the next six weeks? He cannot put weight on his foot. He cannot handle crutches (his co-ordination is not too good). He must be in a place with a big bathroom with a wide door to accommodate his wheel chair. If we were American we’d be in deep trouble. As it is, God bless OHIP (Ontario Health Insurance Plan).

I never intended this blog to be a daily diary, although it is frequently a Bleat Blog. But I have a few personal readers who read it as the letters I don’t manage to write. Thank you for your good wishes and I’ll get on with my intellectual exercises soon.

Battery out. I’ll be back later.