So we can be friends. Once again.

Finally. Julie is getting the help she needs.  Help that should have come long, long ago. She's in a hospital. Being detoxed. And treated.  Given a thorough physical exam. Maybe she's on the road to recovery. Maybe not. We can only hope. A shame. That it had to come. To an almost tragic fall. In the bathroom. She banged her head. On the tub. A gash in the back of her head. Profuse bleeding. She lost two units of blood. Almost one-third of her blood supply.  Fortunately, no skull fracture. But maybe a concussion. She'll be in the hospital for at least a week. Then into rehab. Physical. And mental. And daily psychotherapy. Everything. Everything. Round the clock care. Mainly for depression. The drinking problem, too. The works. Medical doctors. Psychiatrists. Julie has been duly warned. Keep drinking. And you'll die. I want Julie to survive. And thrive. So we can be friends. Once again. --Jim Broede