Slightly Fucked Up

You know when you have so much that you want to say, yet you don't actually know where to even begin? That's pretty much where I'm at right now. It might be the fact that I'm running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep and a shitload of caffeine, or I'm just super stressed, or whatever, but no matter what it is, it's like my brain has shut itself off and refuses to start again (reminds me of my second car).

I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room; my grandfather is having a pacemaker put into his body. My grandmother and a family friend are sitting next to me, my Nana doing a crossword, the friend, Glenna, watching some mundane cooking show. The surgeon said there's a 98% chance everything will be fine. There's still that 2% that he won't. The only thing that I can think is how tired I am.

For this reason and other reasons I feel like I'm slightly fucked up. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. 60 years. That's a shit long time. There's a chance that my grandma will lose her partner of the last 60 years today, in a heartbeat, no pun intended. See? Fucked up.

Glenna is talking to me, well, more talking at me. She's asking the typical questions that you ask someone who you haven't seen in a while but don't know very well: How's school? Are you still working? How's your mom and brother? Fine, almost done. Yeah still at the bookstore. Both working, a lot. I don't find myself caring whether she talks to me again for the rest of the time that I am down here. Or ever, for that matter. She's a liar, and likes to act like she is the sweetest thing on this earth, and no one cares more about things than she does. The best thing she's ever done in her life is hit my dad with her car.

Of course I care about my grandfather. Of course I want him to live for a long time. Of course I want my Nana to be happy and not have to worry. I know these things. It's just....difficult. When my grandparents die, I am cutting off all communication with my father and his side of the family. Why don't I do it now? Because I love my grandparents. They are good people, and the last thing I get to do is cause drama in their life by telling their son to fuck off and stop talking to everyone on this side. So here's another part of me that's fucked up: would it be so bad if he died?

I don't think I've ever written "fucked" so many times in a story. Well, it's kind of fitting now.