I am Not in Control of My Life

Last October when my troubles had just begun a dear friend gave me a card that said "Success is getting up one more time than you fall down." So far I've been able to keep getting up. But I keep getting knocked down and what I want to shout is "HEY, LIFE! GIVE ME A BREAK! QUIT KNOCKING ME DOWN!!" I'm getting tired of these unfortunate events happening to me. I was awakened out of a sound sleep at 5 a.m.  My dad had phoned us on his cell from the dining room saying that he had fallen. We raced out of bed to find him in a huge pool of blood, with more blood flowing out of his head. We called 911, and they took him to ER where they stapled his 6 inch gash closed. It took seven hours in ER hell. This is my eighth visit  to the ER in less than five months. The ER is misery. You wait and wait. Waiting in line at the DMV is exciting compared to this. Waiting on hold for Verizon is more entertaining than this. I think of all the things that I need to do, but can't do them. There are all these terrible sounds: doctors using words like blood, rectum, vomit, and urine. Screams, moans, crying. There's no privacy. Did the inventor of the ER really think that those little rooms divided by a flimsy curtain would offer privacy? The machines ding and alarms go off interrupting my train of thought or my ability to read. I'm always with someone in pain, and I'm filled with worry. Shots, painful tests, blood draws, police, uncomfortable beds, and nothing to eat or drink. I came home even more thrashed than I normally do after working all day. I'm bound and determined to keep standing up, but I'm getting a little fed up.