Ok, So...

My dad made it through a surgery that was over five hours long. That's a long fucking time to wait when you're the one who isn't asleep by the way. Oh wait. I did sleep. I took more xanax yesterday than they keep in the entire psychiatric wing of some major medical facilities. Every once in a while someone would disturb my sleep to let me know that surgery was still progressing and that my father was still alive.

To which I would reply that if he had succumbed, surgery would probably cease to progress. Most doctors aren't big into wasting their time like that. Which would earn me more than a few dirty looks. To which I would REPLY... Why don't you guys just wake me up: A. If there is a problem or B. When they come out and tell us surgery is over? I don't want to know that surgery is progressing. I expect it to fucking progress. Unless, you know, something bad happens. Can't you see that I am trying to deal with my stress by overmedicating and avoidance?

So we didn't see my dad from early yesterday until 4:30pm. He'll be in ICU at least three days. And I miss him. I get to see him thirty minutes, four times per day. My stepmother made sure that I couldn't spend the night in the ICU by asking the nurse about it in advance instead of letting me talk to her about it because basically, she didn't want me to stay there with my dad. While I was asleep she also managed to chat up EVERY OTHER person in the waiting room and tell them the entire medical history of my dad, my grandmother, me, her and God knows who else. She makes me insane. Especially during times of stress. If I could slap a big shot of valium in her ass without getting arrested I would. But then she would probably just talk more. To more people. Yes I KNOW. I write a blog. And tell people almost everything. But somehow its different than when you can't catch a moment's silence from someone sitting right the fuck next to you.

Ever notice how nasty and pissy I get when I'm nervous? Guess that's MY way of coping.

huh.