It has been a week since the accident. Things seem to be calming down a bit--or maybe I am deceived by the current absence of Istra. She's gone to Gramma's for the weekend, the invalid is still sleeping, and all of a sudden I have free time.
We've spent the week seeing more doctors than probably both of us combined have seen in years. Istra and Emeth spent their time alternately amusing and terrorizing people in various waiting rooms across the city.
But Tim hasn't even shared his accident story! I
would attempt to share it here as my double-casted invalid husband probably won't be typing weblog entries anytime soon, but Tim has expressed the desire to record the tale via Voice Recognition software, which he has been experimenting with since the breaks.
Despite the circumstances, having Tim at home all the time has been so nice. I feel like, in a way, this accident has been a strange kind of blessing, ripping us out of routine and forcing us to redefine our roles within our little family. I write this, of course, on the eve of a very definitive appointment; tomorrow Tim goes once again to the fracture clinic to check on the status of his right wrist--the one that might need surgery. Tomorrow we may know if Tim is in the clear in this respect or not; tomorrow we may know just how much we are to pay for this little "holiday".
In the meantime, to help assuage your hearts which might burst with the suspense, I leave you with pictures of Istra being silly on the Beltline Trail, and Emeth sleeping at the Santa Clause parade. And others, of course.