Ok, things started to go down the shithole back about a month ago, on Labor Day, actually. Dud and I went with 'Apa over to Reynosa for the usual cheap Mexican shopping. While we were walking around town, Dud mentioned in an undertone that Pifas was looking rather yellow. Sick, most likely. And he was looking rather pallid, I might add. The whites of his eyes were as yellow as egg yolks. I frowned but kept moving. When I asked him about it, he said he felt fine and shrugged it off.

When we got back home from Mexico, we dropped him off and went home, admonishing him to take care and the usual yadda yadda yadda. Few hours later, we call him and he casually mentions throwing up everything he'd eaten that day. We all blamed it on the dog and possum meat that must've been in that torta he ate. The days creep by and no word from 'Apa, so we assume he's okay. I mean, my dad's not a big talker, y'know, and we've gone on for days without hearing from him. It's normal.

By the weekend, however, it's apparant that he's not okay. He calls us telling us that he's feeling ill and has had the runs since we got back from Mexico. Dud and I rush over to his house and find him as yellow as ever, and drastically thinner around the arms and legs. We scold his ass for not talking care of himself (he's diabetic, has high blood pressure but still smokes and drinks more than an extra from a Western) and demand that he go to a doctor. After much grumbling from him and incessant nagging from Dud, he agrees. He goes on Monday to the county clinic (it's cheaper) and they immediately tell him he's gotta go to the E.R. Long story short, turns out he's got cirrosis (no surprise there) and stones in his gall bladder. Plus his sugar level and blood pressure were out the roof. He was in the hospital for nearly two weeks, in which time both of our cars broke down, Nacho's friend's baby was beat to death, Mar�a's father was also rushed to the hospital because of severe glaucoma in his eyes to the point he's going blind, and my hours got cut at work. Not to mention Angel goes into a depression because he misses my father and they won't let his baby ass up to see him due to infections and germs and shit. My dad's finally released, and Angel picks up a stomach virus from the daycare he's at and we ALL get sick. I was so sick, in fact, that I had to miss a day of work because I was passing out from all the dehydration. Oh, and a tire blew out on Mak. As we were all recooperating, and Mak got a new tire, the car keys got jammed in the ignition for over half a day and gave us all a fright. This was just a mere few days ago, before Mar�a moved out all her stuff. Because Mar�a decided to move back with her parents to be better able to help her dad. I saw her at work yesterday, and now she's getting sick with the flu.

'Ama blames it on brujer�a, witchcraft, but I say it's God who's got one hell of a sense of humor. Throughout this whole bit, I've been the only one laughing my ass off about this along with the clouds. Everyone seems slightly disgusted with me at the moment, even my sister, who's not very prone to believing the superstitions of our culture. I guess your beliefs change when it's your baby on the receiving end of all the bad stuff. *chuckle* Poor Angel. He's still got the runs from all this.