We recently got more bad news about the kids' dad - I'll make it as simple as possible: rehab staff somehow overdosed him on some medication, resulting in very low oxygen levels and a trip to the hospital and back; possible brain damage; CT scan in the morning, then neurologist, then hopefully some answers as to the permanence of brain damage.
The kids are now in bed and I'm sitting in the quiet, my jaw clenched as it knows how to do when it tastes extreme stress. My shoulder cries in pain which radiates up to my ear and down through my pinky. The kids are angry at the rehab staff. They are angry at their dad for putting himself there in the first place.
I am angry at life.
When is it going to fucking. STOP. I want him to get better. I want him to get healthy so that he can watch his kids grow and prosper and be the awesome people they already are. I don't want worse. I don't want him suffering any more. I don't want him disabled because of his own stupid actions, or someone else's stupid actions.
I want him to be at peace so that maybe his kids can stop being so scared, so worried. So CONFUSED. For one fucking minute I want life to make sense, to cooperate, to ease up already.
Sitting here right now I feel paralyzed. So helpless. I sit here in the silence, ready to implode, just biding time until the storm passes.
If it passes.