Sunday, November 18, 2007, 7:09 a.m., C.S.T., Nashville Children's Hospital~
Wayne Wright here.
I'm afraid I'm not doing too well at the present. I'm at Nashville Children's Hospital, waiting to see the doctor about my niece, Susie. She fell a while ago; they think she may have suffered a concussion; I won't know until he talks to me.
I am also not doing well because my sister, Audrey, is being difficult, unreasonable. I keep telling her to trust in God when things go awry; she only manages in shutting the door in my face or slamming down the phone whenever I try to call. It's like she's trying to shut herself and her kids from the world, and I don't like that.
She is more than ready to sever ties with me, go back to England, where, I suppose, she can feel sorry for herself--again.
All of this undue stress in my life is causing me to have terrible chest pains. I don't know if I am going to end up having a heart attack due to all the stress I'm currently under; I certainly don't want to spend the Thanksgiving holiday in the hospital, wired to monitors!
I am going to have to be careful, try to lay low for a while. If you don't hear from me, it's not because I'm being rude: I just need to get away, clear my head for a while. My health has suffered terribly these past few months, and all of a sudden I feel one hundred years old instead of in my later 30's.
I look in the mirror; I am shocked at what I see: a stooped-over, sad old man with greying hair and pale skin. I look like I've aged thirty/forty years. It's terrifying!
I am going to have to reevaluate my life, see what I can do to try to mend my relationship with Audrey and her family; right now it's looking hopeless, and my own faith is starting to suffer.
I will write later as soon as I am able; right now I am in no condition. Besides, the doctor is here; his name is Dr. Tungsten; he wants to talk to me about Susie, what's going on with her.