My phone rang yesterday and when I saw who was calling I got a sick feeling in my stomach. Because it was my dad. And usually when he calls me, someone has died. So I really didn't want to answer but I did. Luckily, this time, no one died. But he called to tell me about my brother. The one with the red hair. He hasn't made too good of choices in his life, and he doesn't have a consistent way to get a hold of him. So we rarely talk. We have so little in common. It's kind of sad. But there is a whole history. ANYWAY.....he had been pitching in a baseball game on Sunday either in or near the Rose Bowl, and mid-pitch, his arm broke. His arm went limp and he went down. Paramedics rushed over and took him to the nearest hospital. Which you know where that's at if you know where the Rose Bowl is. The kind of break he had was a spiral break. Which I know nothing about. But when I told Matt, he said "oohh, yeah, that's not good." His arm requires much more than a simple setting of the bone and a cast for a few weeks. He needed surgery to repair it. Which they did. Talked to him a little on the phone tonight. I guess he'll be out of the hospital tomorrow. This is going to cost him a fortune. It will take 3 to 6 months to completely heal. The boy already has a hard time keeping a job for longer than a few months. I don't know what he's been doing, but he can't do much anymore. The guy that had asked him to come and play has some insurance, but my dad isn't sure how much it's really going to pay. I feel bad for my brother because of the break and that whole thing, but I don't feel bad about his bad choices in life that keep him from keeping a job. In some ways, he is the product of my parents ignorance. They just didn't know enough, weren't aware, and honestly, weren't paying him enough attention to really push to find out what was going on with him. So now he is an adult, that doesn't socialize well, that has convinced himself that things that really happened didn't, and overall is just a disaster. And whats really sad, is that after him, I'm my parents other difficult child. Yeah, me with my squeaky clean record. Me with only staying out after curfew and not having a perfectly clean room. Which just kills me. And I'm still not easy for them. My mom has no idea why we just don't want to talk to her all the time and ask her for advice. Yeah, no thanks. Cause she has been so empathetic our whole lives. (said VERY sarcastically) So, yeah. My brothers arm broke mid pitch. How crazy is that? Note to self: never become so strong that my muscles break my bone in the middle of doing something. (I really don't know exactly what causes a spiral break, and even if I did look it up, I wouldn't understand it anyway.)
This is my blog. I write about being a military wife. Which is pretty much the same as other wives. Except when my husband leaves, it isn't for a week long business trip. Sometimes I write about regular stuff. Sometimes I don't. But hey, this is me. :)
A bad day in Paris is better than a good day anywhere else.