Whew

Aren't we supposed to get rest on the weekends? Sigh.

My weekend was supposed to look like this:

Friday: Get off early and drive to Gruene, TX for a girls' weekend with my mom, gramma and aunt.

Saturday: Spend the day shopping and being touristy, then drive to Austin for a journalism awards banquet.

Sunday: Drive back to Houston and celebrate my birthday with a few friends.

My weekend actually looked like this:

Friday: Go to work at 8am to cover a soldier's memorial service. Wrap up that story and prepare to leave the office when we get the alert of a gunman on campus at the Johnson Space Center. Drive to JSC and report live from the scene for the next six hours. Leave JSC at 9pm, head back to the station and file reports for the national news desk and write a version for use the next morning. Leave the office at 10:30pm. Get a call from my mom telling me my pawpaw fell down and broke his hip.

Saturday: Leave my house at 7:30 to go to hospital. Sit with my pawpaw for five hours, waiting for other family members to show up from out of town. Drive back home and eat food for the first time in about 17 hours. Crash in bed and nap for an hour. Get up, shower and join others for dinner. Drive back out to Katy to visit pawpaw and spend the night with my family.

Sunday: Get up at 5:30, shower, pack and head to the hospital in time for the 7am surgery. Sit at hospital for five hours. Visit pawpaw in ICU after the surgery. Go to lunch with family. Drive home and get ready for church. Go to church. Go home and cry. A lot.

I think I got an average of five hours of sleep each night, along with an unhealthy dose of stress and emotional fatigue. My body aches today and all I want to do is go home and hide in my bed under the blanket. But instead, I get to work late tonight. Yay.