I've never been good at making enticing opening sentences for this blog and this week won't be any different. I'll just get right to the point. My big scooter is sitting in the garage wounded with a broken starter motor. I had taken it to Johnson City to see Sara in the hospital and instead of the usual hesitant start the engine had begun doing it spun hardly at all. With a little finagling of the button it finally fired up but I was sure it was shot. Sure enough after I got home I shut it off and tried to get it to start again. No good. I ordered another starter motor and am assessing how to go about replacing it. In their infinite wisdom the designers of this bike buried it deep inside the engine compartment. I have been agonizing about what to do and am switching between dumping it, getting someone else to fix it or just doing it myself. If it was an easy job I wouldn't even think about it, but it's not and will require a clear head to get it done, something of which I am in very short supply.

The reason I went to see Sara in the hospital is because she was in excruciating pain for several days and we finally took her to the Emergency Room last week to see if she could be helped. After a thorough exam it was determined that her tumor had dead tissue in its center and she needed surgery quickly. My life this past week has been eighty mile round trips to the hospital and spending time with her. By all analysis it appears that time is short, the tumor has spread rapidly and we are investigating options after her hospital stay. Whatever it is will be primarily to see she is comfortable for the time ahead. Little else can be done.