As my ship was slowly sinking into the hospital bed, family was rising to the occasion. Step son MM ie. the music man (he really is, I once saw him play 7 musical instruments with his left hand while writing a symphony with his right) took on the task of rescuing my truck from the mean streets of the city. He arranged for the tow truck, got it to the mechanic and handled the expenses. After that my bride arranged to get the last job I had been working on before the heart attack finished so I could get paid. She enlisted MM, Dr D and his son ET for the work. On the Saturday following my release form the hospital, she and they drove to the site, finished the painting (and did a very nice job of it), cleaned everything up and brought back all the tools. I was allowed to tag along, but only if I stayed seated the whole time and did nothing. Also my brother and his wife helped us out as did my wife’s work. My wife works for a newspaper, The Daily Planet (no, not really, newspaper yes, Daily Planet no). The owners and staff were very generous and kind to us.
And on top of all that, I believe we have been the recipients of a billion prayers. Thank you all. So no man really is an island, more like Rome, the place where a thousand roads lead to.