so i hadn't had a chance to call home in about two weeks (they are six hours ahead of me, and since i'm usualy unable to call during my day and i don't want to wake them up after midnight just because i want to say hi, and because it's really, um, expensive, this is not an unusual occurence) and figured i'd do just that yesterday. so i called dad, only the man who answered sounded nothing like my dad - his voice was hoarse and slurry and.. slow. "dad?? is that you? are you okay?" "yeah it's me.. no, i'm not very okay.." "what's wrong? i haven't heard from you in a while." "well, i've been sick and spent a week in the e.r. and just got out in time to catch a cold.." little by little i pried the story out of him - he was trying very hard to be vague, i assume as to not worry me, but he answered direct questions, and through them i learned that almost two weeks ago he was home alone, felt dizzy, fell down, managed to crawl to the phone and call an ambulance and was rushed to the hospital where he stayed for a week. "well, what's wrong, then, i mean, what did the doctor's say??" "oh, doctors, they don't really know what's wrong.." "dad, did you have a heart attack? please tell me what's going on!" "well.. yes." needless to say, i'm a bit at a loss for words right now. i'm very worried, and very far away, and blah. it's a very complex relationship between us, and it's usually not very emotional, but it blows my mind that my dad nearly died and nobody knew. he claims my mother and brother knew, but i called home and was met with a stunned silence. it scares me. it scares me that my father lives alone and can be missing for two weeks without me knowing it. it scares me that he is a serious chain-smoker. it scares me that he has had at least one heart-attack before, maybe even two. it scares me that he eats very little besides meat. it scares me that the only people who visit him are men in their 60'ies with equally crappy lifestyles. it scares me that i can't do anything about it but plead through the phonelines for change. i'm scared. for now i got my mom to promise to call him today and see if he needs any kind of help - as far as i could tell, he's bedridden under heavy medication with an unlocked door so that people can visit him without him having to get up. i'm going to try and persuade her to visit him and see how he's doing, perhaps bringing some home-made dinners and fresh food, see if he needs some laundry done or anything. (note that my mother has never once set foot in his apartment in 15 years.) and then there's my mother. during our conversation she casually slipped out a "oh yeah i was away at a funeral last sunday." funeral? who died? "oh, aunt tekla..." you know. there are just no words to call home casually and find that your dad has had a heart-attack and is bedridden, and that one of our oldest (and my favourite elderly) relatives died during the past two weeks and nobody thought i might like to know. anyhow. subdued. The Bone Collector is a good movie. so is the swedish movie House of Angels (yes, homesick) even though every cuss word that should have been translated as "shit, fuck, damnit, hell" was translated with a "by God." the x-files took place in winston-salem, north carolina. that's the second north carolina episode this run! very very scary too. in honor of the fiona apple concert i dyed a small streak blue in my hair. a staff-member reassured me that it's "phat" and very hip. whatever. i also printed out a bunch of birthday wishes for matt chamberlain, fiona's drummer (and tori's.) - i'm supposed to deliver them to him tonight as it's his birthday. hippa hippa. i'm staying the hell away from the phones for now. i need to be oblivious right now. bye.