just when you think everything is going to be ok

It gets worse.

My father, aka 'the Venerable', sent me an e-mail with the title 'bad fall'. Since he doesn't capitalise or is touch and go about that lately, I 'assumed' it was about a bad-weather autumn. Except it wasn't.

It was written by my brother, N. 'The Silent'. And so I learned that my Dad was out raking leaves, (and I wonder why the hell... other than it might have been a nice day, and he might have felt like being out a bit... who knows why people do things, after all?) and he fell and broke his hip.

His surgery went well, but he has a long way to go to recover.

Reading that, I thought the heat in my place had gone off again, felt so chilled right to the bone. At ninety-four, that is a very serious thing to have had to happen to him.

So am up at midnight, worrying.

And nope, not gonna go drama queen here. When you have a lucid, 94 year old parent, you sort of get steeled for the day that a mail like that arrives, or 'the' phone call you never want to pick up on.

This one was an option I hadn't considered.

So keep him in your thoughts, okay?