So it's early.  Real early.  I find myself unable to sleep.  One of the things running through my mind, the main thing running through my mind, is my Uncle Karl-Heinz.  I found out after work yesterday afternoon that this past Thursday he had a dizzy spell and fell down a flight of cement stairs in his home in Germany.  He broke his back, neck, and a number of other bones in his body and is now in an induced coma in a hospital in Wiesbaden.

My cousin and his son Hans-Jurgen, gets off from work every day, goes home to grab a bite and change clothes before picking up my Aunt Leni to visit my Uncle at the hospital.  She doesn't have a license, so is dependant on others to get around.  My Aunt and Uncle live a ways from Weisbaden, so that doesn't make things easier.

I wish I could be there.  I haven't seen any of my German relatives in 22 years except for one cousin who moved near us a couple years back.  Sure, I couldn't communicate very well (if at all, really) with my Aunt or Uncle, though my cousin does speak English, but that doesn't lessen my desire to be by their sides.

Then there's my Dad.  Recent tests indicate he has a lot of nerve damage in his legs that can never be repaired through no amount of drugs.  So, he'll never be able to walk well on his own for the rest of his life, which God willing, will be a long time yet.  Doctors don't know how or why this happened, just that if it was detected sooner it could have been treated.  Small consolation.

I know life isn't fair, but why does the crappy stuff always happen to the good people? Why are they made to suffer?  Why?