fal-tor-pan

Jamie is going to the local hospital today for a cat-scan and ultrasound. He's been telling the ladies at his skill center that he needs to go to the hospital, and Monday night he went to bed early and told MyFella that he hurt. MyFella had noticed that he seemed to be favoring his left side a little, not wanting to use his left arm as much.

So they scheduled an appointment locally with their care provider, who scheduled these tests for today. From there, we'll see if we need to go back to Vanderbilt or whatever.

As MyFella was telling me this, I couldn't help recall the scene in Star Trek: The Search for Spock, when the renewed body of Spock is returned to Vulcan. Spock's friends had done so much to find him, so much to save him. They had sabotaged one ship, stolen another, crossed space and fought with enemies to retrive their friend. They had found him, and taken him home, and near the end of the perilous journey had to climb up a mountain and ask a stranger for help. They had to ask the stranger to save their friend. Spock's father had to ask the priestess for help. And in those words belied a weakness of the father for his son, a father who was portrayed as the pillar of strength, who knew no fear, who controlled every emotion and every thought. But for his son, he would betray his own thoughts.

It's much the same way I feel about Jamie. I don't care what the procedure is, I don't care where we have to take him. I would climb Mount Seleya for him. I just want him well.



"What you seek has not been done since ages past, and then only in legend. Your request is not logical."
"Forgive me, T'Lar. My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned."

- T'Lar and Sarek, on the request of fal-tor-pan for Spock