I wanted to write two posts on my blog last week.

I couldn’t.

I wanted to work on a short story due by February 14th.

I couldn’t.

I wanted to work on my new e-mystery.

I couldn’t.

My brother went missing one night driving to the store a couple of miles away. Called police. My brother has dementia. Police sent a Need to Locate to three counties. Sleepless night. Brother found in town 18 miles away the next morning. He had slept in his car overnight in a gas station.

Life interrupted.

Brother was transported to hospital. They did usual tests, vital signs, checked for hypothermia. They told me he was ambulatory. I barely got him home. He fell in garage. He is dead weight. Two EMT’s got him up and into bed. He could not walk, tried but  fell getting out of bed. I got him into living room, but he fell again. Ambulatory?

Life interrupted.

I couldn’t get him off floor. I was not going to send him back to hospital. Why do that when they said he was ambulatory? They did not seem to want him. I called 911 and had them transport him to hospital 22 miles away.

A long week. He is now in an assisted living facility.

Life interrupted.

Now I can post a blog. Now I can work on my short story. Now I can work on my e-mystery. Not the same.

Life interrupted.