Shitty

Wow, I have not done anything today.

When I came home from yoga class, the fire alarm started to go off. That was probably a good 20 minutes worth of irritating klaxoning while I tried to eat lunch and read my book. I didn't notice my cell phone beeping at me until almost 2 pm. X's mom had called. I was sort of waiting for this call all week. I knew that something had happened earlier in the week when I read the former-would-be-sister-in-law's blog entry from Friday. They live in another city but were in town this weekend. Last time that happened, X's dad had to go to hospital for severe back pain. Anyway, in her blog entry she said that she had a minor meltdown. She's going through her own struggle with cancer so I thought that something must have happened related to X's dad but I wasn't expecting news this significant.

He was hospitalized over the weekend for emergency surgery due to extreme pain and loss of mobility and they found tumours. I think X is flying home on Tuesday so I'll feel better when he's here. So will his mother, obviously. His dad is still in hospital, actually very close by to my place. But I just have to sit here and wait. I hate that. I just want get up and do something to make it go away. I hate worrying about things that are out of my control. Those are really the only things that I worry about anyway, ever since my anxiety journal cured me of worrying about things I could control. I should at least stop listening to music in minor keys.

I want to jump off my chair, run to the car and drive over there. Where I don't know. The hospital to wait while she visits? To the house to help look after the dog? I have no idea. I guess there really isn't anything I can do except to correspond over email and wait for X to come home. As I sit here trying to plough through journal article after journal article, my thoughts drift away and I find myself imagining worst case scenarios. This time of day doesn't help either. As the sun starts to set and it gets dark in my apartment.

I'm alone. I've known loneliness my whole life and in the last few years, I have come to understand and embrace the fact that we are all truly alone. But I love his family more than I love my own family. His mother must be devastated. I would be. And when B made a crack about dying early from overwork this afternoon, I almost screamed. Why is this happening? Why can't I fix it?