A few days ago, it was decided that my Dad should get a new, improved, Dick Cheney heart. He is in surgery now. I can only wait, on pins and needles, with this oh-so-numb feeling. I just can’t truly concentrate on anything. My stress has moved into my knees making it painful to move around, leaving me sitting here on my buttocal region in front of a mound of paperwork that has accumulated over the past few weeks. Yet I can’t think straight to get my filing done. I’ve been waiting for “The Call” since 10am this morning when his Surgery was scheduled to start. This leaves me way too much time for research.