Take a Break

I have two close friends, and they both live 1,200 miles away. I have other friends, but none of them have gotten to know the deepest me, like those two. And, they stuck around anyway.

A week ago, one of them came from Chicago to visit me here in Florida. I’m taking a break (<-No pun intended) from the series about my husband’s broken feet. This post is a light-hearted look at some photos from my friend’s visit.

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Coming Home

Home AveIt wasn’t enough that my husband’s feet were shattered, or that my dog had surgery and broke open his wound. Yes, we needed another obstacle to overcome. I was alerted to a flat tire when I stopped for dinner at Chick-fil-A. Since the tire hadn’t completely deflated, and my house was only a mile down the road, I got myself some dinner and drove the car home. I would just have to use my husband’s car to get around for a while (which was another mess, because his car was still at work).

Three days later, after three weeks in hospitals, my husband was finally coming home. A hospital bed smack dab in the middle of our living room awaited his arrival.

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Stretched Thin

I stood frozen in my husband’s hospital room. He just had surgery on his shattered feet. My dog, Max had surgery only two weeks before to have a lump removed. It was benign and healed over … or so we thought. My pet sitter called to tell me Max’s wound had split open.

“Is it bleeding?” I asked.

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