Lord, help me get through this day.

I'm standing at the coffee bar waiting on 3 kids, ages about 5, 7, & 10 as the oldest wipes up what looks like the water fight they had while sitting in the hospital waiting room, probably waiting for a baby sister or cousin to be born. I've been wandering around the hospital with a look that I think says please don't talk to me, I'm deep in thought. Or maybe it says I'm rude and don't like talking to people. I like to think of it as aloof.

Nonetheless, I do give an older white haired lady with a bouffant and what looks like her son directions to the progressive care unit because they look desperately lost and worried. I swear to myself -just as I do every time I see an old lady-that when I'm 85 I won't get my hair set at the beauty parlor every week in the same hairstyle that every old lady I've ever met wears. I'm thinking I'll get a bob instead--that way even if it is gray or white and dry and difficult to manage a bob is pretty universally easy.

I sip my tea slowly, drinking it in the way I always do at the hospital--extremely strong, bitter like weak coffee. After the kids at the coffee bar left I realized that the coffee maker was totally dry and I couldn't get hot water. I had to settle for warm tap water, which is as unappetizing as it sounds. The tea covers the flavor of the water though.

My dad is in the intensive care unit, and every time I go in I feel comfortable because I've been in enough hospitals to know what is going on, the machines and tubes don't faze me. He drifts in and out of sleep, with his head wrapped--and it looks like he is wearing a stocking cap made of gauze--the stocking caps like you see in picture books of The Night Before Christmas.

His right side is still, unmoving, but his left side is restless, playing with the remote/call light and his eyes still have that wonderful look of intelligence even when he is doped up on codeine and can't speak. I long to hear him talk, to have him give me advice in the way he always does when I am having a hard time. The other night when I left the hospital I needed to talk to someone and he is the one I wanted to call but couldn't. Sometimes thinking about these small things when I walk into his room makes that dull ache in my chest rise up to my throat. He doesn't notice me biting back tears because his eyes are closed and he is softly snoring.

Lord, I am stressed out. Please help me get through this day.

I try to pray, I can't. This is all I can think. My thoughts feel muddy--like I'm the one who had surgery. I stumble when I talk, losing my train of thought, feeling restless and flipping channels aimlessly at the hotel room. I have the air cranked down as low as it will go and the curtains drawn. I wonder how long I have to do this. I hope I keep having to do this because the alternative is even worse. I'm worried, although I know it does no good for anyone.