Spent Friday night at the hospital with my father. Exploratory surgery to find out what was wrong. Wasn't expected to survive. Doctor told me there was a "significant chance of mortality". Would be a cool name for a band.
He made it and has 31 staples in his abdomen and my BostonStrong bracelet on his wrist.
And now the fun begins.
I should feel guilty but I hate visiting. I hate it there. I hate the smell, taste, look and the people. The nurses have been nice and helpful but they bother me too and I don't know why.
And now to deal with the fallout. Health, money, living, rehab, getting there, my work....everything is about to be thrown on it's ass and I have no idea what to do.
Everyone has been incredibly supportive. I mean has blown me out of the water with the support. And everyone keeps telling me how it's going to work out but I cant stop thinking- what if it doesn't?
Then I guess it doesn't and life goes on.
Well we will see I guess....
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