August 7th, 2003

Roman

(no subject)

I'm reading a small book by Elizabeth Berg. Trying to remember what else it was I read by her. Another small book, thin, as I recall, nice cover. This one is not so nice, just an ordinary paperback. This one, The Pull of the Moon, is about a woman who runs away. She's fifty and she's having doubts and questions about the way her life has been up to this point. She thinks about her age, her looks, her marriage, and now a bit about what she likes to eat - she has forgotten, doesn't know.

It's a little too much for me. A little too much "women's issues", or maybe it's just too predictable to me.
Roman

(no subject)

My baby's in the hospital. Mary went there at about 2:30 this morning. Heavy bleeding. She is in a bed and they are doing tests, said something is "wrong" with her blood. That's all I know right now.
Roman

(no subject)

I'm on edge, waiting for more information on Mary. I think she'll be okay. Gut sense. Not a good night for her, needless to say. I am considering taking a few days to visit, help, but want to know more first.
Roman

(no subject)

Mary is home, resting. Nothing unusual was found. She is supposed to take in lots of liquids and iron. This result is not satisfying me. She needs to see a doc for a complete exam.