Today I thought we’d have a little fun with photography and art.
Max hasn’t seen his human dad in three weeks and is looking for his return. Continue reading
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.
It 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.
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.