Picked a bad day to.....

Today reminds me of the movie Airplane. I picked a bad day to quit doing(drug of your choice here).
For me, "I picked a bad day to be having withdrawals from my anti-depressants."
Why you ask? And of course, I heard you asking....
Near the end of the evening I got a call from my Dad. He sounds like hell and asked me to bring him a bowl of soup from Luby's. It seems he has been sick for almost a week. My Dad is 86, hates doctors and is as stubborn as a mule. Turns out he has had diarhea for a week and has not been eating much. Yes this can be dangerous I know.

Here is where I wish I had my meds in me:
In 1994 my Mother had a cold, possibly the flu. She was a very healthy 75 year old lady. She had been to the Dr. and it turned out she was getting a urinary tract infection too. So, I went by with her medication so she could stay home and rest.
She was in bed and feeling vey crappy. I made her some soup and as she got up to come to the kitchen, she collapsed. That was it. She died that instant. I did CPR, and it kept her "going" until she died again at the hospital.
So, that being said, Imagine my horror as my Dad called to tell me he would like me to bring him some soup. Now I have to walk into the house where my Mother died, walk down the same hall and bring my ailing father some soup.
It was everything in my power to walk in the door of that house.
I made it through though. My Dad looks bad. He will not go to a Doctor. I told him I would come back in the morning and bring more food.
I wish I could tell you that I think he'll be better a bit tomorrow but I worry that he may not be better at all and may actually be on his last breath.
So, tomorrow I will try to get my self together again and walk into the house without showing my fear, anxiety and great sadness. None of that is very easy when coming off your meds.
DAMN I need some cake.