…Of friends who are going through family difficulties, a very old, very dear school friend of mine (one of the four girls whose friendship quite literally enabled me to survive boarding school from the age of seven) has an eight year old daughter who needs a new kidney. They find out this week if she will make it onto the transplant list… and then, of course, after clearing that particular hurdle, they will have a whole series of further obstacles to negotiate in order for their little girl to have a normal, healthy life.
And, at the other end of the age scale, another dear friend’s father is very sick and she has had to rush back to the UK to be with him and her Mum. So I’m also hoping the kind of amorphous hopes one has in such circumstances – that everything is okay, or, at least, as okay as it can be.
All of which makes me realise how remarkably free from such responsibility and anxiety I am. I don’t have a child. My parents are not yet so far gone as to be either physically enfeebled or mentally senile (well, no more than usual…) and my own health is, thankfully, good.
I am extremely lucky.