Tonight, I was supposed to be panicking over the first night of prep football. I was supposed to be stressing over deadlines and pages and bad/too-long/too-short writing.
I was not supposed to be sitting at PDX Gate D5, waiting to get to Casper.
I was not supposed to get a phone call that before they could insert Dad's pacemaker, he went code blue, that they had to work for 30 minutes to resuscitate him & even longer to stabilize him, that he's on a machine that will cool him down to preserve his brain, that he hasn't woken up.
I was not supposed to spend my day alternately crying on the floor and coordinating with relatives about who's doing what, and where, and when ...
I am not supposed to be here. This happens to other people. This happens in books & in movies.
