My mum's in ICL - when I know what it means I'll tell you - at IJN (this one I know - Institut Jantung Negara). She's gone in for an angiogram, which is pretty straightforward. But what isn't straightforward is the angioplasty the doctors say is highly likely. And a chance of a bypass if the angioplasty doesn't take. All this doesn't sound too reassuring but what can a daughter do? I'd take her place if I could, but I'm damned chickenshit when it comes to pain(God help me if I'm ever in labour).
So here we are, Dad, Bro and I, waiting outside the ICL(still don't know), being all macho (the men, at least) and ignoring the fact that all this scares us to death. That underneath Mum's tough-nut exterior, she's still heartbreakingly fragile, and there's nothing we can do about it. If it was her liver, or kidney, we'd be in there donating whatever we could. But the heart is a tricky little bugger even in the best situations.
So here we sit, in our bubble of familial silence amidst the everday clatter and hiss of the IJN cardiology wing, and my head is whipping around at every sound of opening doors. People are laughing, making jokes, acting as if it is any other ordinary day. They have loved ones too in there, so what do I have to worry about? Trust that it will all turn out right, that I'll have Mum back in a couple of hours, poring over her sudoku and/or complaining that the crosswords in the womens' mags are just too easy.

Hope and Peace, all.

Update: 2.35pm

Mum's out. Amazingly, her arteries are good and the stents are holding. Dad is more devout than ever and I am seriously beginning to believe the power of prayer. I'm keeping Mum company until we can both go home at 8 tonight.

Life is suddenly very, very good.