glucose and Augustine, anyone?

So my glorious road trip to New York tempted the Fates. My joy had to be balanced by equal angst, trepidation, and other such conditions making my hereditary anghina work up. Three days of sheer take-your-plan-and-toss-it-punyhuman joy. 1. On the way home, CK and I are driving along in Georgia on our way to New Orleans when we have a flat tire. Result: 4 hours in local Wal-Mart. Cutting into the time I need to get home for work at 4 am the next day. Which means I have to hop a jet alone at Atlanta for a flight out. 300 lira americano. 2. That gets me home in New Orleans in my own bed by 11 pm. I get up at 2 am the next morning; my father and I skipped dinner. 6 hours into my shift, security comes and gets me from the cafeteria asking me if my father has a history of seizures. I arrive to find my father in a wheelchair looking for all the world like he's drunk -- slurring words, no motor control, etc. Only he's not. He's low on sugar [not good for a diabetic] and was waiting for lunch when he fell. He's very redfaced, sweating gallons, and needs water. And a bathroom. So I get him into the bathroom, get security to get me water for him to drink , and orange juice, and also granola bars for him to eat. Finally I get him standing and he gets all done. Then when finished, he stumbles into me. A 300 lb man and his 150 lb only son is trying to hold him up. And failing miserably. He falls again onto me. Enter security to pick us up. When we get him outside, I have to drive him home. I, who haven't driven a vehicle since I wrecked my last one last August. I get him home without incident, fix him a can of peaches, and send him off to bed hiding the paternal deathscare I just had. 3. A day after this, I am dealing at my blackjack table and my mother come up to me. My mother who is in florida and was callliing me like mad to say she's coming in. But with my havingn lost my cell phone, I had no idea. My mother is in the same building as my father and the mere thought of this sends images of Chernobyl into my mind. Only the hand of Fate prevented their meeting. Which brings me to my point. In new york CK and I talked about why I am so fatalistic. Hence my "god doesn't play dice with the universe" idea and why nothing is coincidence. And in Georgia at wal mart when I am perturbed at the delay and CK tries logic to reasssure my temper. And I say that it's Fate that in Georgia we are detained, as if the gods were tellling him they heard how he debated the idea of seeing various family members near there, the very place he was then forced to stay. And more of the fates trying to perhaps tell me how I actually can handle things like driving, meeting my parents both together, medical emergencies, or any other daily maelstrom in my life.