When I went to see Bill Clegg in New York in September 20...

When I went to see Bill Clegg in New York in September 2009 my mother had just been rushed to the hospital - we were told that if she had got there an hour later she would probably have died.  So we were all very worried and did not know how things would turn out.  I took the bus down to Washington from NYC on the recommendation of a friend. 

Friend, Time A: Oh, don't take the train, it'll be over $100! You should just take the bus! It's only four hours, and it only costs $20!

My friend kept insisting on the ease, speed and economy with which Washington could be reached by bus, till I capitulated and agreed to travel by this absurdly cheap method of transport.

Friend, Time B (when I have bought my ticket and am about to leave):  I'll be interested to see how you find it, I've never tried it.

Ah. 

(The bus hits Washington around rush hour, reaching the terminal some 6 hours after departure from New York.)

When I finally got to the hospital, anyway, my mother was sitting miserably in bed; my stepbrother and his wife were there, having cancelled their vacation to stay with my mother; my sister and I insisted that they go back to the house and take a break.  I sat in the room with my mother -- and raised her spirits by reading favourite episodes from Dinosaur Comics off my laptop.  My mother was enchanted. A dangerous source of solace for someone straight out surgery, with fresh stitches: she was howling with laughter.  (Much as I love Mr Whitelist (aka Joey Comeau) and A Softer World, I am not sure the comic offers the light relief suitable to a 78-year-old fresh from surgery.)

At any rate, it turns out all episodes from DC since 2006 are now available in a book - in colour, no less - with an introduction by Randall Munroe!  I wish I had known in time for Mother's Day, but I may send it along as a surprise gift.  (Which I can then read the next time I go on a visit.)

Also -- and this is THE PERFECT ARTIFACT -- there is now a Dinosaur Comics whiteboard.  The whiteboard displays the 6 panels of DC, with blank spaces to be filled in as the wit of the owner dictates.  It is currently out of stock (quelle surprise), but new supplies are expected shortly.  I am feeling pretty morose myself at the moment for various reasons (the usual), but I think possession of a DC whiteboard would be just the thing to raise morale.  A superb piece of merch which no home should be without.

A reader once told me off for selling short stories off my website.  I shudder to think what she would make of Samurai-related merch -- the real problem, though, is that nothing can surpass the DC whiteboard, which encapsulates the genius of the comic in a way that is rare among merch.  I thought of a children's t-shirt (jinsai: indispensable euphemism for small child) - just the thing for Harvey, I think - but it's not in the same class.

My mother still talks about the second time she went into hospital.  She was taken to intensive care after a short time on the ward; she was frightened and in pain and terribly, terribly thirsty, because she was not allowed to drink (she could have one ice cube, and a moistened swab passed over the lips). The nights were very long; she would ask the time every five minutes, under the impression that hours must have passed.  From time to time I massaged her feet, because it seemed to be the one pleasant sensation on offer.  She still remembers this, and talks of how kind I was, and I feel ashamed, because I did not do it nearly enough.  It's perfectly true that this was not necessary to preserve life, but in the circumstances one is inclined to say 'Question not the need'; one feels one ought to do everything in one's power for someone so badly off.  It's hard to get my head around the idea that one should cut back on the level of care; that the effort of being cheerful and pleasant through sleepless nights should not be directed to the patient, because something must be kept in reserve for a young man with excellent health, a nice New York life and large circle of friends.

Anyway, it's bad to do business with people who act in a capricious, impulsive way; it takes years to get clear of the damage, and meanwhile one has to get through each day, and there are too many days. It doesn't help to think about it, but it's hard not to think about it.  But then, the thing is, out of the blue, I saw this completely enchanting whiteboard and laughed out loud.