The Wombat File Is Yours to Keep

Where are we? Here, that is, the purplish blob above the "n" in "Kent." Alternatively, you could say that we were here, though that's a distinctly wintry perspective. You can get a glance at one of the features of our little hideaway here, though the bloke rowing the boat in that picture isn't the wombat, but one of our hosts, who have kindly lent us this use of a wonderful lakeside retreat for a few days (Thanks, Eric and Dominique.) It's proving both an excellent spot for basic lounging, as well as a much nicer place to rendezvous with the wombatly parents and sister than our space-limited burrow in the city would be.

The change from our world of a few days ago is nothing short of head-spinning. No hospital -- no vital signs, no meeting a new resident seemingly every day, no complicated chess-game of how to switch parent-on-duty at the hospital while taking care of Helena. Of course, eleven and a half days in the hospital is peanuts compared to the amount of time some parents I know have put in. I have now an expanded appreciation for parents of children with chronic illnesses.

In any event, it's wonderful to have even this small burden lifted. We didn't really believe our doctor was going to let us leave town, until we were discharged and all at home in our wreck of an apartment -- with the task ahead of packing for six days out of town. Now we're here, with the family I haven't seen in a year . Imogen's recovered so well that it almost seems she was never sick. And I actually got to write today. OK, it was more like editing something I'd already written. But it was still, in it's own way, a triumph. Tomorrow, perhaps a hammock. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have to go fatten a baby.