Sister called this morning. She'd had a call from the live-in. Dad isn't feeling well and one hand isn't working. His speech is clear. Brother was headed to the apartment and Sister had a call in to the doctor. I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself as I considered the logistics of having Dad and Daughter hospitalized in different states.
Then I began to think about the man who died yesterday evening. He died of a genetic disorder, and his son is currently very ill with the same condition. He also has a daughter with the disease. There have been times when he was in ICU in one city and his son was in ICU in another. His poor wife has been coping with this stress for almost a year. Their pastor left, so she has been doing it without the support of a pastor. When I asked how her son was last night, she burst into tears. His condition is deteriorating. Today she is making funeral arrangements and buying cemetery plots.
The dead man's father has been in a nursing home, knowing his son and grandson were critically ill, and getting only sporadic updates. His father has been laying there, wondering why he is still alive (when he doesn't want to be) and his son and grandson are dying.
I'm not going to complain.