Where's Dr. House when you need him?

I had a nice quiet weekend, and then everything went to hell very quickly. Saturday night I got a call from Jason's brother in Australia informing me that Jason's dad, who has been in the hospital for weeks with some undiagnosed illness, is unconscious and on a respirator, and the doctors still don't know what's going on. He was initially admitted because he had collapsed and was disoriented (he thought it was 2006) and couldn't function. The docs said it was severe depression. Given that he was practically catatonic and couldn't dress or feed himself, this struck me as a bit of a stretch, but hey, I've got a law degree, not a medical degree, so what do I know? In the meantime, they've been running test after test all while speculating that it could be cancer or TB or Legionnaire's disease, but the truth is, they don't know what the fuck is wrong with him.

The Aussie relatives, in typical form, suspect Asian bird flu because Jason's dad has a lady friend who is from the Phillipines -- they think that any time a person goes to China or the Phillipines or anywhere else "foreign" that they come back with cooties. Maybe this explains why they insist on boiling the tap water before they drink it, even though I don't doubt that the drinking water in Hawaii is a million times cleaner than it is in Australia. Because I'm evil, I've been secretly pouring out their pitchers of boiled water and replacing it with plain water from the tap. I know it's totally immature, but it makes me feel better. Miraculously, they're still alive.

Jason is a nervous mess and trying to figure out if he needs to go home to see his dad before it's too late, all while worrying that if he takes the time off work, he could lose his job. MIL is making things worse by being the voice of doom, going on and on about how people go into the hospital and come out sicker or dead. Thanks, asshole. You're really helping my husband keep it together.

Four more days, four more days...