So... My dad's in hospital due to a heart attack. It's the first Sunday he decided to go cycling after at least 8 weeks of lazing around. Yesterday he invited me to go with him, just as we used to do last year, but I declined.

I should have gone with him. I should have been there to get help sooner. I should have kicked my lazy arse and made myself accompany him. Logically and rationally, I know I wouldn't have been able to prevent the heart attack itself, but I have the feeling that he didn't have help immediately when he first needed it.

I'm writing this while waiting for news in the hospital waiting room. And I am hating myself as it is. And I am hoping that my father hates me a little too, because... I should have been there. And I wasn't.