I have images to upload but something isn't operating correctly. I don't have time to mess around with it or wait, especially since I haven't posted since last Monday and am about to depart for England.
After my last post, Steve and I got one of those dreadful telephone calls from Mathias. "Something" happened during the dress rehearsal. It had to do with the wig and the cue. What had been an opportunity for Mathias ended before it really started. He was replaced. He is still dancing the same role in the second cast. David Bintley, the artistic director, even complimented his efforts with the second cast's recent performance. Yet, this means we will not be seeing dance Mathias at all. (Unless we arrive with enough time to make the Saturday matinee--a show for which we do not have tickets.) Mathias was devastated. We don't have many details because when he's sad, he's silent. This, of course, makes for a heart-breaking telephone call. It seems that all he needs is a hug, the one thing quite impossible over the telephone. There have been other such calls over the past seven years. I'm always left in tears. I cried all afternoon. It wasn't unproductive though; all emotion was transferred into the large "In Box" piece. It progressed quite nicely.
To put things into perspective, however, we received a telephone call later in the week from my sister Sonya. Sometime on Wednesday night, my Dad experienced sharp pain down his arms and in this chest. He refused to let my mother call the ambulance but a few minutes later agreed to let her take him to the hospital. Before arriving, he felt better and wanted to return home. Wisely, my mother drove on. Preliminary tests were run and he was admitted. At this point, my mother passed out. Tests were run on her. Fortunately, she was allowed to leave.
Yesterday, my Dad failed the stress test administered by the local hospital staff. He was then taken to Allegheny General in Pittsburgh in order to be catheterized. I don't really understand what little information I've received. There was something about a "balloon" and "routine". We've been on pins and needles, but today, he's been released. Dad adamantly said we were not to cancel our trip to see his grandson. Thus, we leave at 3 PM
So, what's the good news? Alex got his interim report card. This is generally NOT a time for celebration. Ordinarily there is fighting, punishments, threats, and tears. The paper clearly indicates FOUR As, a B and a C. Steve and I nearly fainted. The C was in biology. It had improved since the last report card from an F. Last report card carried no As at all. This is the first time since sixth grade that we've been happy about Alex's academic performance. It couldn't have come at a better time!