'Til The Cows Come Home

But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln...

We're back from Italy, eight days ahead of schedule.

I was in fine shape when we boarded our flight. Sometime between leaving New York and getting to Rome the abscess, which had been healing beautifully, became severely reinfected. By the time we checked into our hotel in Venice on Monday afternoon I could barely move, was dehydrated and had no appetite. A doctor was sent to our hotel on Tuesday. He confirmed that the abscess had indeed become reinfected, as well as the formation of a new and even larger abscess growing over and around the current one. He did what he could to make me comfortable and advised we return home as quickly as possible. We had several hours worth of frustrating phone calls to air carriers but finally managed a direct flight from Venice to JFK today. Fortunately the Italian doctor had armed me with even more pills to get me through the flight.

Surgery has already been scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning.

K. is devastated but holding it together to keep me from feeling guilty (which naturally isn't working as I feel completely responsible no matter how unrealistic that is). But this trip was his baby - down to every minor detail - and I was so happy to share it with him. I can't help but feel horrible about my illness ruining everything. I feel completely destroyed.

I'm going to be closing shop here at The Barn until I am in a better place both physically and emotionally, as now I'm out of strength in both areas. No calls or e-mails, please. Thank you for dropping by. I'll be back in what I hope to be the short-term future.