Tonight is the last night of my 20s. The last 5 hours of my 20s actually. Here is what I had planned for tonight: relaxing after a rough start to the week by sitting on the couch, watching the premiere of Lost, and blogging and waxing poetic about transitions and entering into the next phase of my life blah blah blah.
Instead I'm spending it trying not to worry myself into a stressball. See, my Dad is having some major surgery tomorrow or the day after. Surprise! And happy birthday!
Obviously I'm not expecting anything to go wrong, but Dad is having a major procedure and nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, so I'm scared, nervous, worried, feeling helpless, etc. etc. The sad part is that it's all really familiar. Almost two years ago to the day I was in the exact same boat when my Mom had her heart attack. I can't believe I have to go through the same shit all over again.
But I suppose it means that I kind of know what to expect in terms of the emotional toll and the things I can do to help the other members of my family. For example, I'm planning on hanging out at the hospital with my Stepmom and Dad tomorrow, and I know exactly what I should bring with me, things I can bring to them, and how I can try to cheer them up. That's looking on the bright side, right?
So I'm waving goodbye to my 20s, ushering in the 30s, and hoping that when my family does get around to my now-rescheduled birthday dinner we'll have more to celebrate than just my birthday. We'll be celebrating my Dad's full recovery!