Hell's bells, more bad news yesterday! A 90-year old friend who's always seemed feisty and indefatigable is in the hospital with multiple serious problems. Her daughter gave me a rundown.
No visitors, though my friend is apparently pretty chipper. This I totally understand because I've always thought it was barbaric to visit people feeling their worst, in a hospital bed, and hold them to chitchat.
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| Sissinghurst bluebells |
Maybe:
Available at my favorite flower shop.
I'm going to call at 10 sharp, order a bouquet, and carry it over to the hospital when I get an allergy shot nearby this afternoon. Just drop it off at the nurses' station.
Here's a photo of my friend and me a year ago:
This lady hired me to type in the Entomology Department 40 years ago, just about to the day. There I met Jerry, Mr. Cranky Professor, and the rest is history. She delighted in the romance, as though she orchestrated it herself. In a way, maybe she did--she assigned me to type his Dictaphone tapes. "Just keep him happy," she said.
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