It seems like this weekend has been just one thing after another, and it carried right into Monday, which can best be described as "a hell of a bad day." Isn't that the way it seems to go? When it rains, it pours. And I had a downpour of epic proportions.

My grandmother's back in the hospital again, this time with MRSA, urosepsis, pneumonia, and some other thing like C-Fiss or something, which the nurse spelled for me and I promptly forgot. She's 91, so naturally, this is all pretty serious. On top of all that, my dad's back is acting up again, so he's in massive pain and needs rides places and some morphine, ha. The rides, we can provide. The morphine, not so much.

Then, I don't know, the crap hit the fan in a bunch of other ways- my son broke his mouthpiece on his bari sax, I had a doctor's appointment which my doctor's office was kind enough to send me to the entirely wrong place at first. My dog got into some trash and threw it up all over the place. I dunno, yesterday was just…awful.

I suppose the hardest part is watching both my dad and my grandma be sick at the same time and feeling helpless to change anything at all. And the guilt, man, the guilt. Running up to the hospital to hang out with a mostly non-responsive grandma, then wanting to leave immediately, but staying because leaving makes me feel guiltier.

I know that it's just another dip in the rollercoaster of life, but sometimes it's so hard. Keep me in your thoughts.