The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Writers....

As readers of my book blog know, things are reaching a climax, at least in this first draft, and I had planned to finish off a chapter today. Hah.

Over the weekend, my husband started spitting up blood -- why do these things always start on weekends?! -- so this morning, he called our family physician, who told him to get to the emergency room. We got there around 9:30 a.m., and proceeded to spend the rest of the day there, while we dealt with x-rays and blood draws and CAT scans and heaven alone knows what else. But the bottom line is: dh has a pulmonary embolism, or blood clots in his lungs. We have no idea where they came from, how they got there, where they may have migrated from, how they came to lodge in his lungs -- we only know that breathing has become steadily more difficult for him since November, when he began not to be able to run his usual five miles/8 km, without having to stop for breath every so often, and that over the past week, he has had trouble breathing while walking the one mile to work. Then this business of spitting up blood.

It all "sux," but OTOH, maybe it will get him to think a little more seriously about his church relationships, or lack thereof -- when we got to the hospital, and he was asked his religion, he hemmed and hawed and finally said, "More Orthodox than anything else." So I hope there's hope.

Meanwhile, I intend to escape for a little while, if not to Moscow, at least to Brighton Beach. ;-)