March 12, 2020
The cardiologist pulled me aside this afternoon to tell me heís already written the orders: barring some unforeseen, unexpected major setback, dad will be released tomorrow, regardless of how many or few times he walks outside of the room. To celebrate (if thatís somehow an appropriate word) on the way home, I stop at Bilboís for salad and a mini pizza. As I pour myself a small glass of wine, I look back: I canít remember the last time I had Bilboís, although there was probably some consumed with Barb during a visit in the 1990s. So thatís twenty years.