**(Spoiler: Though not "fine," Dad is home, walking, joking & scheduled for many more tests)**
For 10 terrifying, mind-numbing, chest-crushing, hyperventillating seconds, I thought my sobbing brother was trying to find a way to tell me my dad had died.
He hadn't.
He did collapse at home. Did open one of the incisions on his inside thigh. Did start bleeding in the kitchen. Did go to the ER. Did exhibit abnormal physical & behavioral symptoms before he fell. Did have an idiot of an ER doctor who refused - 3 times - to test him for a stroke, because she "didn't think" he was exhibiting any symptoms when she saw him, and besides, she "can't" order that test, it "has to be ordered by his primary care physician [a) lie #1 & b) he doesn't HAVE a primary care physician; the PCC he had before almost lost Dad's leg ... and then he conveniently retired], and they "can't" do that test in the ER [lie #2].
(My shouting a while later over the phone at my mom that if it turns out Dad really did have a stroke, I'm going to go after that lying, effing, incompetent twit's license & green card had no effect)
It has been a long time since I've been paralyzed by heartache & fear - I handled it much better the first time (Dad's heart attack). A long time since I shook so much I couldn't stand; sobbed so hard I couldn't breathe; and been absolutely unable to move, except for the shaking & the sobbing. I kept asking Matt what to do, I don’t know what to do, what should I do? There wasn't anything either of us could do besides wait.
It didn't help that I was at a windy beach, surrounded by hundreds of people & their kites (it was a kite festival), right next to the loudspeaker. Matt kept telling me to turn the TV down, he couldn't hear me; I kept saying I was at the beach, at a festival at the beach, I couldn't turn it down. But he couldn't hear me & kept asking why the TV was so loud ... we eventually said a teary goodbye. I stayed hunched & bawling on top of a sand dune. I couldn't move.
A man asked if I was OK.
No.
Could he help me?
No.
Mom called, and that got me moving toward the boardwalk. Calm down, she said. Breathe deep, she said. Here's Daddy, she said.
My Daddy.
My Daddy was talking to me. Telling me to calm down. Breathe deep. God is in control. He's going to be fine. Calm down, sweetie. Here's Mom. No. The doctor's back. Gotta go.
I sat, still crying hard, on the boardwalk steps. I don't know for how long.
And then a woman sat down next to me. Put her arm around my shoulder. Waited.
"Bad news?" she asked. I sobbed, hiccuped, nodded. "My dad had an accident today," I whispered.
"Are you a Christian?" she asked.
"Yes. My dad is, too." She asked his name, where he was, and right there, on a sandy boardwalk surrounded by kites & people & dunes, she prayed with me for my dad, so far away. I hugged her & thanked her. She kept me talking until I was calm, just sniffling a little, till Matt called again. Her name was Debbie (Debby?). Her husband was standing behind us. I wonder if he's the man who first asked if I was OK. I said it was nice meeting her, thank you for stopping, and she smiled.
"We're sisters, Sarah."
She's right.
