Well, I was having a really great weekend until the phone rang. My dad had bad chest pains and my mom called 911 to take him to the hospital. I am not leaping into my car to make the 2 hour drive over there until I get more details about his condition - it may be nothing, or it may be something, but I'd like to talk to his cardiologist before I decide if I need to be there. He's 77 and his heart is in terrible shape and basically held together with staples and chewing gum, this is not the first emergency trip to the hospital, but any one of them could be the last. My mother is also 77, is a wreck on her best day, a minor car repair is cause for panic, you can only imagine how well she handles his medical emergencies. I've told them for fifteen years that they need to move closer to me if they expect me to be able to do anything for them in an emergency, they could well afford it, but that would make sense so it won't happen. Oh, and I'm an only child, so it's my problem no matter how you slice it. Much as I would like to say fuck it, I gave more than my share at the caregiver office already, somebody else can take this problem, there isn't anybody else so it's all mine.

I was just thinking, before the phone rang, how pleasant this weekend has been, and how much I was looking forward to a quiet Thanksgiving, just me and the kids, followed by some theraputic Mall Madness on Friday. Now yet another holiday may be falling to yet another medical crisis.
So I'm not working in the yard, I need to stay clean and near the telephone just in case I do have to haul my tired, resentful ass over there. I Shall Sit and Knit and Watch a Movie. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Just shoot me now.