As I told my wife’s daughter last night, I’m prone to getting a case of the “dreads.” The certainty that something terrible is going to happen. Had it the day before
Psmith died. Had it before the wedding we attended over the weekend. I was delighted that nothing bad happened there. Then yesterday happened. My wife fell and broke her arm. I was too far away for a rescue. But we got her home anyway.
She feels awful. When you get hurt it hurts. A lot. The good thing is that I’m a better nurse than you might think. So she’s in good hands.
What’s more, she is delighted at how everyone else around her responded. The staff at the hospital in Maryland were wonderful. A social worker even called her this morning to inquire, and I could hear secondhand over the phone that she was genuine in her concern.
We are, still, Americans, and we do take care of one another. How that monstrosity in Oklahoma resulted in so few deaths. America. WE are the miracle. Don’t you ever forget it.