This letter was one of many bits of information that spurred me on to write my novel which, I admit, is fiction mixed with truth. It seems that only people who have known me quite a while can discern the difference, but many still have questions. If you haven’t already, I hope you will consider reading my novel;
Buried Truths—A Daughter’s Tale…
October 25, 1991
Your letter of the twentieth was most reassuring, and we are truly grateful that you escaped the worst of the earthquake. For the first couple of days, the phone company automatically rejected all calls to the Bay area. I got through to your son only after failing to get through to you. The media sometimes exaggerated tragedies, but one is always concerned over such an event, and it is good to know that all is well with you.
Gwen continues to have a rough time. We went away for a couple of weeks rest. She missed the last step on a flight of stairs and had another fall. The doc said no bones are broken. Her recently healed hip was not re-injured. Nevertheless, she is in pain whenever she sits or lies down or even tries to rise. The doc says time alone will cure it, but it is a significant drain on her in the meantime. He tried to prescribe some pain medication, but she would only agree to aspirin.
The stunning basket of flowers you all sent for my birthday is still lovely—it came as a real surprise. The day before I received our birthday letter, which I appreciated ever so much, and which was a present enough by itself.
In late October, it was determined that some chest pain I had were symptoms of Angina. After an EKG, the doctors decided it could be handled by medication, so I have to swallow some six pills a day—rattle, rattle; I’m full of pills. Low and behold, they work, I feel better! Modern medicine is astonishing, and my doctor’s orders are to do anything else I want to do. This lets me indulge the lazy side of my nature whenever I want to duck work, yet leaves me free to do sensible things. Who could complain?
Gwen is having a problem with her eyes, and the implications are not favorable. We’re going up to Johns Hopkins next week to get expert advice, but it is both unnerving and worrisome.
Before I close, let me once again say how great it was to see you and to get to know your children as adults. They really are chips off the old block, and very fine people indeed. You must be very proud of them—as you certainly showed me you were! I’m sorry Gwen was having difficulties with our reunion. She can’t let go of the past and thinks I shouldn’t rekindle relationships. I’d hoped for a different outcome since she has many things in common with your son’s musical background, but alas no. I will have to contact all of you in secret because I can’t deal with Gwen’s volatile moods when she is displeased. I need to keep my world as calm as possible with my heart condition. I will telephone you soon.
Love to all—