Bruce is Improving

What a day Tuesday was.

My “bro,” Bruce, had a stroke in Ravenna Italy on Sunday night and I am kind of his communication hub. Bruce is with Giuliano, another friend of mine, and he was staying in a condo that belongs to yet another friend of mine, Marguerite, and I seem to be the person who knows who all his friends are. So I have been telling everyone and, of course, I get an immediate email in response, then another when the news sinks in, and now more about how to communicate with Bruce.

And then Adele comes on the radio singing Make You Feel My Love and I bawl.

Then a miracle happens. Giuliano sends me a photo of Bruce taken in his hospital room and Bruce looks fabulous. He looks alert and bright eyed; he has his glasses on and I can see a smile. It’s slight, but it’s there and my soul f-cking sings.

I talk to Jane, Bruce’s sister. I arrange to see her on Thursday on her way to the airport to go to Ravenna so that she can take him a card. And I write to tell his friends so that they can give me things for Bruce, too. That way he’ll get a little love package from all us fans.

By five thirty, I was emotionally spent. I did well for my friend today but my fears for him made speech extremely difficult for me today and I had to go and talk to people where I vote and to buy some dinner. Nothing would come out.

In the evening: Comfort food and some dress work while listening to a movie.

A young Sir Ian Maclellan.