[Elfsea] Sebastian update

Don Valentyn DonValentyn at JeffTurnerFiction.com
Tue Feb 5 09:57:48 PST 2002


Hey Tessa!

Tell Sebastian that I hope he's doing well, and I hope he called it
"light" when the surgeon went to work!

Yours,
Valentyn


---------- Original Message ----------------------------------
From: Tessa Nieto <eleanor_cleavely at yahoo.com>
Reply-To: elfsea at ansteorra.org
Date: Mon, 4 Feb 2002 18:52:08 -0800 (PST)

>--
>[ Picked text/plain from multipart/alternative ]
>
>Greetings friends,
>
>
>
>first, let me say thank you so much for the lovely messages you
have sent my ailing husband. Contrary to what he will most
certainly tell you, he is NOT dying and has come through surgery
like a champ. He is currently recuperating at Arlington Memorial
Hospital and I anticipate he will be home tomorrow afternoon. He
is in Room 5107 if you want to call him but please don't call
tonight. The drugs are working and he is not his usual smart
alecky self.  If you would like to call him, please call after
10am so he can wake up and be nice.
>
>
>
>Basically what happened is he wasn't feeling well this morning,
went to work, then called me around 4:45 am to come pick him up.
While on the way home, he looked at me and said (this coming from
a man who LOATHES doctors) "Baby, I think we need to go to the
hospital." Well, being the loving wife that I am, I sailed down
Cooper St going in the vicinity of about 65 mph and got him to the
hospital but quick. He went under the knife at 1:30 and was out of
recovery by 6pm. He is sleeping right now.
>
>
>
>Please continue to email him happy thoughts. I printed out
several and gave them to him this evening. They certainly lifted
his spirits. I am so thankful that I live in a barony that is so
wonderful and caring. Thank you to the people who kept me sane
(and fed) today. You know who you are. Without you, I could not
have made it through today.
>
>
>I'll let you all know when he's home.
>
>
>
>A grateful and exhausted...
>
>Eleanor Cleavely
>
>
>The human language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out
a tune for a dancing bear, when we hope with our music to move the
stars.
>- - - Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary
>
>
>---------------------------------
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>


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