Last night, my father suddenly suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital. Fortunately, we got him there in time, and he is currently hospitalized. The examinations have turned up something troublesome. His myocardial calcium is 2.3, but the biggest problem is that his hemoglobin is dropping. The doctors suspect gastrointestinal bleeding, creating a conflict in treatment with the heart attack. One requires blockage, while the other requires clearing. Moreover, the bleeding site and cause still need to be examined in detail, and cannot yet be determined.
I expect I'll be stationed at the hospital for the next few days.
Fortunately, my scheduled updates are set through the twenty-eighth. I'll report the new situation to everyone after the twenty-eighth.
Whether there will be compensation updates for everyone next month is still undecided.
I didn't sleep at all last night and couldn't help letting out a sigh. At this age, we've been forced, one by one, to go from knowing nothing to becoming jacks-of-all-trades.
In middle age, pressure bears down from above and squeezes in from below, while we're hemmed in on every side—buffeted by wind, blades, frost, and swords, with ambushes at every turn. We have to charge left and break right, block above and fend below, knowing how to do everything; we have to stand tall beneath the heavens and upon the earth, capable of anything. As long as one pillar remains, it shields the whole family from wind and rain; once that pillar collapses, the entire family falls to ruin.
The affairs of this world are hard to predict.
I've been writing books for sixteen years, but never have I prepared so abundantly and then had to take leave as I have this month. Last month, I suddenly went mad, writing nineteen thousand words one day