Aug 10 2001
Sleepless
It’s 2 am, and I’m awake and fretting, as Rufus calls it. Just the situation with Dad would be bad enough, but it’s also what we call “crunch time” at work, insanely busy, long days, so I should be getting some damn sleep. Maybe I’ll do something useful, like the laundry, since I’m up anyway.
Dad is doing better, but still in intensive care.
M is for Marvellous Megan. My little sis is heading to London tonight. The Californians in the family just aren’t happy with how the English side is handling things: not asking the doctors questions, not calling us with updates, leaving Dad alone at night. When Dad was in the hospital here after his stroke, one of us was there day and night, even if we had to sleep on the floor in his room. It never occurred to us not to. Yesterday I waited until 6:00 pm London time to call my older sister Beth, and she mentioned she had been back from the hospital for more than an hour! So it’s definitely time to get a Yank over there to kick some ass, and it just happens to be one of Megan’s specialties.
So even though she just got back from visiting Dad on July 20, even though she has to drive nearly 4 hours to get to San Francisco and then get on an 11 hour flight, she’s already on her way. No wonder I love that girl.
Am going to cry and do the laundry, like a disillusioned suburban housewife. Wish I could just sit around and watch soap operas and eat bonbons like said housewife instead of going to work, picking up Meg’s ticket from the other side of town, changing money to UK pounds, and the million other things I gotta do tomorrow. Oh wait — TODAY.
Thanks to everyone for the support and caring. You know who you are.