I am not exaggerating when I say that I almost lost my dad yesterday. For two hours last night, I didn’t know what would happen and my mind went back and forth from, “he’s not going to make it,” to, “of course he’s fine.” Thankfully, the second was true. But those two hours were tough.

My aunt called at 9:17 last night – I know this because I checked the time on my call log to see how long it had actually been between the first call and the text later on. She asked me if I had heard about my dad. In that moment, my heart started pounding, I started to shake and I reached for Mike’s hand. She then told me that he had a heart attack while he was driving and on the phone with his girlfriend. She had urged him to go to the hospital when he told her about some symptoms he was having. Thankfully he listened and when he started having actual pain, he decided to go somewhere closer to where he was. He made it there, was put in a room and then collapsed. They did chest compressions and had to shock him. He had an artery that was completely blocked and they put a stent in last night. When my aunt called, he was in surgery. For two hours, I just waited to hear what the outcome was and tried hard not to be afraid. When she texted me two hours later – 11:16 according to my call log –  I knew it was good news. She wouldn’t text if it was bad news.

I talked to him before bed and he was loopy and making jokes on the phone. Talk about a sigh of relief. But those two hours were so hard. Telling God over and over that I wasn’t ready to lose my daddy. That I still needed him. He’s fifty-two. Young, in good shape, just lost a bunch of weight, eats right. This was shocking, to say the least.

Today my brother and sister are with him and some of his siblings are there as well. He called me this morning when all the kids were still sleeping. Asked me if he woke me up (he did) and said he was bored. That’s my dad. 🙂

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