First let me say that I am fifty-two years old, a widow, and live in a small town. My son is thirty-two years old and is currently separated from his wife. Wiliam, my son, has come back home and has his old bedroom he had as a child. He has lived with me for two months now. William works in a local foundry and was injured just before moving back home, severely burning both hands. He could gingerly use a fork and spoon but...