My mother calls me at 10:30 Monday night. Something is wrong. I can hear that quiver in her voice as she tells me that my brother is in the hospital and about to have surgery, go under the knife. She is probably wiping a tear from her eye at this point. In my head I have been whisked away to sunny california, I figure it's my responsibility to sift through his belongs and decided what to keep, sell and throw away. She tells me his appendix has burst and is going to be removed, it's risky business and she is praying for him. I'm whisked back to Canada, everything is going to be fine. It's just and appendix right?



She has this habit of painting a gruesome picture and passing it on. She's let her mind run away with her and it infects everyone else she passes the information on to. In her defense I can't blame her, what else is a parent to do if their son is half way around the world and they can't be with them when the hospital calls to tell them what is going on. Who else will be at their bedside when they wake up. Of course everything is okay now. and in the drama seems a little silly and uncalled for, but someone how warranted at the time.