My brother called that Dad was taken to the ER again today and I spent the day waiting for answers and I took my boy to get a Wii game and I am healthy and my son is alive and I didn't know what is wrong with my dad and we played games and I tried to be cool but my mind was on my dad. I tied my record in video golf. Five under par.

When they finally transferred him to a hospital where he will stay for a while, My GF, and I went to see him. My son wanted to go.

Old. He looks so fucking old like a 3-D Grampa Simpson lying in the hospital bed alone. Dozing an opiate slumber and I am so fucking afraid to get old like him.

The crisp, white bedding looks obscene and opressive, like a weight of lead on his fragile frame.

He is confused from meds and a lifetime of life. I feel shame that I don't want to be there. I want to drink a Sunday night beer. My sister and her guy arrive and the nurse asks all kinds of questions, entering our answers into her cart-top computer and I want to be on eBaum's or looking at porn or playing video golf and my dad is an age-spotted head on a hospital pillow in an anticeptic room of a Seattle hospital that feels old and sick and I eye the Purell.

He eats macaroni but barely and I am there with a napkin to help him as he uses a fork like my son used a fork, like learning to eat for the first time and it is so bland so I ask for some salt and I wish he was eating a meal that I made and I'd pour him some wine.

He has to go pee and they give him a jug. A plastic, white jug so he can piss in bed and neither of us know how it's supposed to work but the others have left for his dignity, BULLSHIT, to avoid helping him pee and here I am, the youngest sib, holding a jug in this surreal swirl of emotions and such and I don't want to see his dick and hate myself for thinking that and I call a nurse... for his dignity...BULLSHIT!

The doctor comes in, it's late and his pelvis is broken (My dad's, not the doctor's) and his fall was a month ago but no one knew and I want to go home but my dad has to stay and my son's getting bored and my dad has to shit and my sis makes a break but my coat's in the room and I have to wait and I fear growing old.

After he shits we enter the room and gather our gear and the room smells of shit and I just want to go. I want beer so bad and my dad has to stay and I feel like a shit.

I tell my son that I love him and I see me in a bed, having to shit and him wanting to leave and just me, an old man wanting him to stay.

Now I'm half drunk and that's not half bad and I know my dad will never go home though they say that he might but I see in his eyes that the fight may be gone and he may see my mom if Heaven is real but I doubt that it is.