Dear God

Yesterday at the hospital just sucked big time. Having to see Fred in restraints and on the oxygen mask just knocked the wind right out of me. Every time he said he'd be good he'd just to back to ripping the mask right off of his face. I had a good cry in the waiting room for about a half an hour. Last night when I was cleaning out my purse I still had my tissues in there and they were still damp with tears. My heart just wasn't into doing much of anything. Minnie was no help either. When I asked her for any words of wisdom on how to deal with this she had nothing to say on the subject.WTH kind of logic is that? There were a few moments of comic relief.

Fred spit out the pills the nurses tried to give him. When the nurse asked him if he would behave himself if she took off the restraints, he said "NO!". A for honesty. God bless him. That's my pop.

It was divine providence that BJ called to tell me that Fred was intubated and moving to intensive care unit. My nerves are just fried at the moment. I may go back to smoking during this ordeal. My appetite is shot anyway. I've been turning more and more to my faith. It annoys me that the local church hasn't stopped off one of the priest but maybe the hospital chaplain dropped the ball. It could happen.

I find that going to classes is providing a good diversion for me. It's been a challenge to get back into the rhythm of studying. I feel back for not getting back to certain people because I just don't know what to say. At times I'm afraid I'll just muddle into a weeping Wanda. I think this once a day cry thing is par for the course.