David took a hockey stick to the face last night.

    He called me from the hospital and told me there was nothing to worry about. Of course I had to go down there because I started to pace. He was stitched up by a very nice Doctor-in-residence who was at least half of David’s age. We had a surreal conversation while he demonstrated his handiwork on David who lay sprawled on a stretcher in a hospital corridor. I watched a few bashed-in faces stumble past but, all in all, not too traumatic a visit to Chilliwack General. Poor boy can’t make facial expressions and/or raise his eyebrows without wincing. Ick.