So for the past month, my 12-year-old son has been hospitalized in the psychiatric hospital in the next town over. It’s a government facility and also associated with the Sackler Faculty of Medicine of Tel Aviv University. It’s traumatic for him, traumatic for us, and has become a second home for me & my husband as we spend every afternoon and evening at the hospital with our son.
So for the past month, Hamas has expanded their range, and instead of just sending their usual daily rockets and mortars at the Israeli communities in the 20-mile radius around Gaza, they’ve been firing long-range rockets at the rest of the country as well. I spent the first week of the rocket-flare-up-turned-war glued to news sites and frantically scrolling through Facebook, looking for info, in between the sirens which send us all running to the shelter.
Can’t deal with it all. So have moved my emotional headspace to the Scottish Highlands in the 18th century. And there it will remain until it’s safe to come out.
Sure, I’m still going to the hospital to be with my son every day. And sure, Hamas’ rockets are still firing at me (and occasionally making us pull over the car on the way to the hospital to run for cover) …. but my mental health clearly needs to be considered. And contemplating James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser in a kilt is way better for the soul than contemplating Khaled Mashaal in a luxury hotel in Qatar while his people pay a very harsh price for his institutionalized hatred.
Besides, once I’m done shlepping out MOBY, there’ll be the series to torrent. Well, to find the torrents of. Well, to have on the computer to watch obsessively in the middle of the night until my eyeballs fall out.
Fandom as survival mechanism. Works for me.