Please, let me be (maybe...)...

I think my family is trying hard to kill me.

Two afternoons ago, my mother fell over the dog. For the first time in 8 years.

Naturally, since nothing is easy and everything has to be some sort of pain in the ass, she wound up doing quite a bit of damage to herself. As she explained, it was either land on her head or her wrist...and sadly the wrist lost out against the interlock in the garden.

When it happened, she assumed it wasn't a big deal. The day wore on, I went to a friend's for a bonfire and come-out session, and collapsed into bed at 2 a.m.

Yesterday morning I was awoken by mom cracking my door open and stage-whispering my name over and over. I think my first thought was, 'Oh, fuck.' This was a little before 8 a.m., and with a few hours of sleep behind me (and not quite being over the lack of sleep since Thursday) I energetically bounded out of bed to take her to the doctors office.

The rest of the day was taken up by visits to 4 doctor's offices, with the confirmation and casting of a broken wrist. At one point, at a stop at the grocery between doctors, she was relaying the news to my dad. She then started to cry, in the middle of the frozen food's section, because this ailment puts her out of commission for the rest of the summer.

It's not as if she's whining about the pain, it's more the fact that her summer pastime as part of a woman's racing team was now going to be cut off completely. So there I stood rubbing her back in the aisle as she said how pissed she was at herself for doing such a stupid thing. I stared at her, not really knowing what to say.

We then got home where an e-mail was waiting to let her know that an acquaintance of hers from her team had died the day before. This brought on more crying and back rubbing, with her becoming very emotional and concerned over this woman's death. The entire time, I sat there trying to think of what to say, but nothing very calming or compassionate escaped my lips. After she had composed herself, I slouched into my chair and exhaled, trying to pull myself back together.

I then spent the remainder of the afternoon doing all the things I was doing when my parents were away, since she cannot now lift or otherwise move her arm. Through most of this, she followed me around changing her attitude from 'this can't be happening' to 'you're not doing that how I would...'

My father has been equally 'interesting' lately. Last night he literally followed me around the house recounting the finer points of American domestic policy in Alaska during the Second World War. I attempted a few times to either change the subject or end the conversation all together, but to no avail.

This all makes me feel guilty, because while I'm listening to the history lesson he's lecturing on I simply want to become invisible and walk away. But afterwards, I feel horrible because, after all, he's my father whom I don't get to see a lot and I should take advantage of the opportunity to spend time with him.

Still, its a fine line. I hope he's not mistaking my somewhat blank-faced stares as there being something wrong with me (though I suppose there is...), and trying even harder to engage me in conversation. But when it gets to the point where he's waiting for you to get out of the shower (on your way to bed, mind you) to talk about the thunderstorms moving further east than expected, one wants to scream.

To top it all off, I ended up checking out my Facebook and getting more great news. Remember Rez Guy? The one who wants to sleep with me, and who I was gladly going to befriend? Well, guess what he's been up to lately...apparently he is now listen in a relationship with someone. Bloody hell. I give up. One of the 'perks' I had to look forward to upon returning to Toronto has now shacked up with some guy. How dare he!

All in all, I just feel at then end of my tether. Half of me says, "Oh for Christs sake, you've got nothing to complain about, suck it up!" Then the other half thinks I have the right to, at every alternate moment, want to burst into tears and hide under my bedsheets. Being not completely self-absorbed, I have the side that feels dutiful and responsible for my parents, but it's reaching such an emotional plateau right now that I'm starting to have trouble dealing with it.