I sit down on my bed. On the cool, pressed, duvet cover. I fall back against the pillows and stare at the fan. The room is gray, clean, and smells faintly of peach. Yet it feels like I’m back home, in my parents house, in the midst of humid, teenage filth. Walls with sharpie tattoos and a waterbed that hasn’t been made in…ever.
Phone to my ear, I listen as my dad tells me about church this morning. How he started sweating profusely during band practice, and felt dizziness consume his body. And in a move very indicative of who he is, he put down his guitar before he passed out. As it happened, one of the women at the church was a registered nurse. She took his vitals, and while he could hear her, and thought he was responding, he wasn’t. They called my mom, but couldn’t get a hold of her. They called 9-1-1 and an ambulance was dispatched.
One of the sound technicians rode behind the ambulance, and stayed with my dad at the hospital so he wouldn’t be alone. Someone flagged down my mom the moment she pulled into the parking lot. The entire church prayed for my dad during service. The pastor and some friends visited him after.
The doctors told him he was fine, though hours of testing yielded no clue as to what happened. And as I listen to the story I cry. I know he’s okay. I can hear his voice. He’s as calm and nonchalant as if telling me about a morning at the golf course. Just one of those days. But my grandfather died on a golf course. His first (and only) heart attack. I barely remember him now. I don’t want my girls to forget my dad.
How did we get here already? My grandparents all but gone. My parents now the grandparents, and me the aging child. As our conversation ends, I insist he see a cardiologist this week, because as a writer from three states away, I know what’s best for his health. I tell him I love him more than necessary—he laughs in his gentle way. We hang up, but still I lay there, staring at the fan.
I’ve always been aware of the life my parents have outside of me. The world they created for themselves after I left home. The church, the friends, the community. But until today I never really thought about it. Entrenched in the “what ifs” for my own family, and ever the selfish child myself, I never pictured that part of my life changing. I never imagined my parents getting older. I never entertained the “what ifs” for them.
All of which makes me even more grateful for the people who were with my dad today. The friends who saw what I didn’t, stepped in where I couldn’t, and took care of the man who headlined my life for so many years. Hopefully we have many more to come.
With all of my heart, thank you.
©2012 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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{ 14 comments }
I pulled in. Just as the ambulance was getting ready to leave. Tony, Anita and I can’t remember who else, standing by watching. They told me it was your dad. i grabbed my phone to call your mom, but it had been covered. Vaughn asked me to ride in the car with him behind. Sadly, I couldn’t. I had a job at church that morning. But I thought you’d appreciate this. Those who were inside, told me what happened. When dad took off his guitar and stepped to leave the stage (waist high off the ground) he stepped towards the center instead of towards the steps which were probably closer to him. He fell over the duffel bag sized monitor onto the smaller drop instead of over, onto the floor some 3 feet down! It could have been so much worse. Those who were there, said they were so grateful as to how it happened rather than how it could have happened. I wanted to call you. I hesitated. It wasn’t my place. Praying, instead. That was what was best. I was just getting ready to head over to the hospital after church when Mom called to say they were home and he was fine. Glad you are making him have a full check up tho.
Oh, I’m so glad he’s okay, and I’m glad he’s seeing a doctor as a follow-up. It’s fragile, this life we hold in our arms, isn’t it? Call me if you need anything at all. xoxo
So sorry about this–I pray for healing and peace as you all adjust to the after of this.
Oh CK. I am so glad he is doing fine and going to get checked out by a doctor. Sending positive thoughts your way. xoxo
Dear Cindy:
Your blogs about our relationship always makes me cry; I’m so blessed. Yes my church family has been a blessing to me and your mother for over 15 years. It’s times like this that I’m told “it’s good not to be alone.” Believe me with both my family and church family, I’m not alone. Love ya. Dad
Well, Mike, we are now bonded together for the long haul. I’m so glad you are feeling yourself, and I eagerly await that hug you promised, Laura
I know exactly how you feel! I live several states away from my dad – and he doesn’t tell me everything (trying to protect me, I’m sure) so I have to rely on others to be there for me. I’m so glad he’s doing okay. It’s not easy, is it? And that he’s getting a follow up visit. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts and prayers.
Well, dang. Your family is so lucky. I’m sorry you’re scared and I’m sorry his body tripped him up for a moment, but he said right there above that he’s fine and knows he’s loved, which is just about the best thing anybody can be. He has community near and far, and he has a daughter with a giant heart and enough comic timing to carry the gravity of a post like this with “because as a writer from three states away, I know what’s best for his health.” Laughter and love are pretty good for anyone’s heart, CK.
I hate to bring this up, but please tell me you’re on vacation somewhere and that you don’t iron your duvet cover. I won’t be able to handle information like that.
In my defense–and I feel like I really need to defend myself on this one–I didn’t iron it because I like ironing, or because I iron anything on a frequent basis (or at all). It was ironed because after I took it out of the washer, it looked like a ball of tinfoil when it dried.
And just so you know, I hated every minute of the forever it took me to make my duvet cover look like it belonged on a bed, and not on a meal I was trying to keep warm in the oven.
Seriously, CK, I’m on vacation – no fair to smack me in the face like that!! So glad your Dad is okay, and totally understand the scary “what ifs”…
I wish we weren’t experiencing such parallel lives these days. But I’m nodding. What ifs are everywhere. Also. Thank god for cardiologists.
I don’t have parents around to worry over like this… yet, I still get it… and you had my eyes welling up with tears as I read… but your dad’s comment. Yep. His made those tears fall.
So thankful that He is okay!
Don’t lose sight of the fact that it’s pretty cool your dad – and your kids’ grandpa – plays guitar.
I remember a couple of calls my dad or sister made to me that started with, “now, don’t freak out, but we’re at the hospital … ”
I can only hope to stick around long enough to do this to *my* kids.
An excellent post.
Hugs to you. And I agree with Nap – please tell me you do not iron your duvet cover. Really, please.