Ah, {{{{Tep}}}} - hugs to you for the scary cardiac rollercoaster, and again for the callous and strange coworkers.

But it makes me feel like I'm overreacting.

There's not really much a person can do that's over reacting to parent heart problems. Maybe wailing and throwing oneself out a window whilst rending and tearing garments. Maybe not though. I think crying is really a perfectly normal reaction.

There's not really much a person can do that's over reacting to parent heart problems.

I know, it's just that -- this has been going on for 15 years now (since summer of 1992). Last night, Dad mentioned that over the past 15 years, he's been in the hospital at least 50 times, and probably more like 60.

So I'm used to it by now. Yes, I worry, because who wouldn't? But after 15 years, I can't keep reacting in the same sort of immediate-crisis-panic mode.

Oh, Tep. Crap. No, love, you're not overreacting.

I don't think it neccesarily means they're callous or gits either, though, because as mentioned above, they may either (a) not know what to say or (b) think you WANT them to pretend all is okay. It depends on how well they know you* - and at the end of the day you can't know what's going on in their heads, and you shouldn't let it add to your distress. It doesn't mean that you're overreacting, or that you're not worth their compassion, or that they're a bunch of gits.

Meanwhile, Daniel Radcliffe is a grownup, or something. WTF? (This is not a saucy picture, incidentally. Just - facial hair. Which is boggling my mind, because - wee boy! Only apparently not. Huh.)

*I have done both, depending on how well I know the person - and since I myself find that compassion utterly undoes me, and can hold it together reasonably well until someone asks if I'm okay, I have a tendancy to be a bit wary of approaching people who look like they're about to burst into tears. 'Cause I know I would rather be left the hell alone. But that doesn't mean I'm not worrying about the person, and wondering whether I'm being insensitive, and all that.

I sit in a bullpen with 3 other people, and we all sort of pretend we can't hear each others' phone conversations, etc. So it's possible they didn't quite know how to dissapate the Les Nesman Wall gracefully just then.

However, {{{Teppy}}} and I am sorry to hear that you guys are dealing with more cardiac trauma again.

My first day at work for the last three companies was Paperwork and Orientation, so they provided sandwiches or pizza for all the new hires that day, in whatever conference room the new hires were in.

Fay, remind me to get posted to wherever you are teaching, so that you can be Mallory's teacher. He needs more of the not-caring face.

I am Jars, except that I would at least say something like "Is there anything I can do?" or "Would you like chocolate?" You've been there a long time. You'd think they'd say something

Yeah, this. 'Cause saying, "Is there anything I can do?" gives you the option to pretend you're fine or let them know what, if anything beyond acknowleging you're upset, they can do.

I myself find that compassion utterly undoes me, and can hold it together reasonably well until someone asks if I'm okay

Yet more proof that Fay and I are the same person. I do the exact same thing.

I might have thought the exit to the bathroom was your way of saying "I'm pretending I'm not crying at work, go along with me on this one, people."

This.

So I'm used to it by now. Yes, I worry, because who wouldn't? But after 15 years, I can't keep reacting in the same sort of immediate-crisis-panic mode.

This. Ok, mom's stuff hasn't been 15 years, more like 8 - but yeah. Hospitals...she's in, she's out...yeah. Still, panic.

No overreacting.

Stuffs chocolate and alcohol into interpipes.

The first few heart attacks are the worst, Teppy, for you and for the cardiologists. Hopefully your dad will have a doctor who can keep track of him and who will be able to keep track of how heart problems manifest in your dad. Hubby's cardiologists have learned the idiosyncracies of his heart, but the first few attacks had the doctors going "He's not even 50! Stop wasting our time!"

And you know what? I'm *positive* that no one at work has a bottle or flask stashed in their desk.

Heh. We just had the following system-wide email go out:

If you left a bottle of Liquor in the Men's Restroom, you can claim if from Txxxx Mxxxx after identifying the type / brand. :-)

It's likely a specimen or evidence, but its darn funny to see that.