I want to believe in many things. That bad situations are temporary. That my parents will all live for many more years. That the cat's renal failure is reversible. That the kids will never get bigger or grow up, though they will be potty trained at some point. That the laundry will wash itself.
Some of these things are believable. Most are not.
Presently, I want to believe that my leg is not broken.
I fell down the stairs this morning. Carrying laundry to the wash in preparation for a trip to see my birth mother, who is suffering from pancreatic cancer, I tripped over the cat who was lying on the top step. A very grown up J brought me the phone and helped me to hop down the stairs after I'd called for assistance. I can't weight bear on my left side, and my left foot is numb. I heard the knee pop when I fell. It's excruciating, but I don't want J to see me cry, so I'm sitting at my laptop, trying to pretend it doesn't hurt that much.
More when I return from the hospital.