I just got the "come home" call from my father.
Not sure how long I'll be there. With any luck, he'll be out of surgery and stable, but it doesn't look that way.
It's an odd feeling: lots of worry, some premature grief, a guilt for assuming the worst, some morbid humor, when you think about having to pack a black outfit just in case.
The poker tournament will still go on with Jimmy hosting. I thought about calling everyone to postpone it, but I realized that it could still go on without me. I'm hoping, of course, for many reasons, that I'll be able to be back in time for it (that'll mean that my cousin was stable enough for me to come back).
I'll be able to be contact via email and my cell, but expect voice mail if I'm in the hospital.