Forget an Amen, Can We Just Get a Break??

Where do I begin? Since the passing of my sister Jennifer, neither Maggie nor Meself has been sleeping. And I don't mean that in the way whiny people mean it. Like "booo-hoo I only had nine hours of sleep last night and I have that big meeting at the Cheese Club in twelve hours..wwaaa" No I'm talking neither of us has gotten more than five hours of continuous sleep since like June 4. We toss, we turn, we lay awake staring at the ceiling. I think I had five on Thursday night, but only because my wife slipped me a mickey-thing and knocked my little ass out. Lucky me. My poor wife though, was downstairs loading and running the dishwasher, cleaning the lint from all the furnace filters, straightening all the threads on the ends of the living room carpet and attempting to replicate the Mona Lisa in the litter box by pushing around all the..oh never mind. No wait, that was me on Tuesday night..sorry hun.
Mr Sandman has not visited us in quite some time and if he ever finally shows up, I'm tying the little bastard to a chair and give him a beating to rival that of the famous 'cop scene' in resevoir Dogs.
Weboth are filled with worry about my neice Cassie. We both have bad dreams, nightmares at times and on top of all that, we live in one of the noisiest neighborhoods in the entire Western Hemisphere. I mean it's not Carnival..but still. A little respect from our neighbors would be nice. But I digress..I was looking for a break right?
Yesterday we got a call from my sis-in-law, (who will be referred to from here on in as Steph), about my father-in-law. They have a home up in upstate New York. Out in God's country. This house is so far out of the way squirrels don't go there for fear of being lost to the wilderness forever. Arnold Ziffle is still a big deal there as is cable t.v. If'n ya'll can get it, that is...
Anyways my father-in-law (who from here on out will be referred to as 'J.W.') apparently had a 'mini-stroke'. Now you've got to understand, the man is in congestive heart failure. He is nearing 90. He is an ornery ol' guy. Tough as nails. He had open-heart surgery just about two years ago. Had an artificial heart valve put in and was home riding his John Deere two weeks later. Seriously. We rushed over to see him and he seemed terribly tired. Almost weak. But, he seemed with it and talked with us for a couple hours. Today he seemed a little better, but still tired. He refuses to go to the doctor. We will be keeping a close eye on him.
Today Mims called my wife's cell. As a matter o' fact we realised this as we were leaving J.W.'s house. She left no message. This means bad news. We worry ourselves sick about my niece Cassie. We, being Irish, naturally assume the worse. I grab the phone once home and call Mims. Our conversation went kinda like this.
Me: Ma, what's goin' on?
Mims: Connor, I tried calling your wife earlier.
She is talking very quietly. My mom doesn't have a big mouth but she is speaking quieter than usual. another bad sign.
Mims: I need surgery.
Me: What? What's wrong??
Mims: ( Matter of factly, like she's relaying the weather.) My pacemaker ( for her heart) isn't working. They'll do it tomorrow. I should've checked in at noon, but had no one to bring me...
Me: (about to experience a very good heart-attack) What is wrong with it? Didn't you have that one done only 3 years ago?
Mims: Ahh, I'll be home Sunday.
I gather what's left of my nerves and make sure she doesn't need us to come. It is a five hour drive but I could do it in 4. I am now worried about Cassie. She just lost her mom and if anything happened to Mims I think she'd have a little meltdown.
CassieKid is with her Dad and my mother has a wonderful set of sisters. They came through for the fam big time when Jen died. My Aunt Chris even gave Mims a cemetery plot for Jen. So I know she'll be in good hands. I was debating going and told Mims this
Mims: You don't need to be here..I'll be fine...really Connor.
Me: But Ma, who's gonna be taking care of ya?
Mims: I'll be fine don't worry. You do not need to be here.
I tell her I will not come but have debated going anyways. But really, there's be nothing I could do. So I think I'm staying here with Mags in case J.W., God forbid, has any problems.
So you see. We are both fried. Toast. Creamcrackered. We are both in need of like 15 hours of sleep. We need the phone to not ring for like 4 days and we need everyone in our neighborhood to fall into a 24 hour coma so we can get some sleep. Is that too much to ask?