Yeah. Not that far. But. Oh, my. We just got into the first week, sort of playing it by ear when everything changed. Life does that, you know. You’re walking down a path, seeing the sunlight, feeling the breeze and Whack! You’re not. So. You go with what you are given. Scary, but true. Some bad news, but not so bad news. I need surgery. But it’s surgery lots of people have had. Lots of people survive it. I should too. The harder part was being overwhelmed by a bit of bacteria that put me under for three days and has me feeling like the walking wounded, still. It’s that feeling of unknown. Of weakness. Of not in control. For a type A like me, this is tough. And….it’s going to get tougher. Tom is not even close to being the same type A as me. Not that he’s a type B, he’s just, well, different. So different.

I’m going to need to be very chemically dependent, I can tell you. I will have to be drugged not to go nutzy. After all, as I’ve said before, this is my universe he’s entering. He’s asked for resident status and he doesn’t even know the rules. It’s like the game BAFA BAFA. Designed by the Navy back in the ‘ugly american’ days, the game was meant to give some insight into the way we have to handle another culture when the rules have developed or evolved over so much time. It was always fascinating watching people try to navigate the unknown. Trying to ferret out what was real and what was unstated. ‘Visible and invisible’ as we say now in the Creed at Mass. Funny to think that all by my lonesome I developed my own culture. But I think I knew that. I used to say we could live anywhere because we brought us with us. True.

Unfortunately, Tom never played the game!