"Why would I be mad?"

I got an email from Henry, telling me that he was upset about doing battle with the county over his health benefits. "I had an accident!" he wrote. "I didn't ask for this!" He said he looked forward to talking to this weekend.

I wrote back that I simply couldn't talk this weekend. Saturday I was celebrating my friend Nancy's birthday. Sunday I have to work. I opened and closed the email with, "Don't be mad."

He immediately wrote back that it was OK, that he understood. And then he closed with the real head scratcher: Why would I be mad?

Because two weeks ago, he tore a strip out of my hide when I didn't pick up his call during the Oscars, that's why!

Does he not remember how hurt he was, and how eager he was to lash out and hurt me? Maybe not.

Or is his moodswing on the rise, and his demons aren't as loud this week as they were two weeks ago? Perhaps.

The man is recovering from a traumatic brain injury. I have to keep reminding myself of that. And it means that I have to accept that, for us, every day can be Anything Can Happen Day.