The door to theroom where Dad sleeps is closed. I lightly rap on it, “Dad?”There’s no answer. The anxiety I’m starting to feel reminds me ofthat horrible night I walked into the kitchen when I was twelve andfound my mother. Please, Dad, be ok. I press my ear to the door buthear nothing except the thumping of my now racing heart. Forcingmyself to draw a breath, I slowly turn the knob. Please just besleeping or passed out. Maybe that’s it?
I push the dooropen, fully expecting to see my father lying face down on the bed.Instead, I see that the bed is empty and still made. I’m just aboutto back out of the room when in my peripheral vision, I notice afoot sticking out from between the bed and the wall. I quickly dashover. And there in front of me, in a heap on the floor, lies myfather. He’s on his side and there’s a towel under his head withspots of rusty red all over it, the same color as the drops in thehallway. My legs, are suddenly shaky and weak. I bend down and putmy hand on his shoulder, “Dad? Are you okay?” I ask the questionbut I already know the answer. He’s not ok. There is dried bloodcaked on his face, under his nose and on the bottom of his ears. Ican’t believe this. Why are you hurt like this? Watching him, Ifeel desperate and helpless. Please, God. Please don’t take my dadaway.
I sit with myfather on the floor until the ambulance arrives. My face is soakingwet and my hands are trembling. When I called 911, the lady askedme a lot of questions, none of which I can remember. She told methat she was sending an ambulance and they wouldn’t be long but itfeels like they’re taking forever. My mind is spinning buteverything is happening so slowly. What if he dies too? I’ll be anorphan. I’ll have no family left. What’s the point of anything ifeveryone I’ve ever loved is gone and I’m left here…alone? I can’tstop the tears. I don’t even try.
After whatfeels like forever, the intercom buzzes and I let the paramedicsup. I open the front door and then run back to the bedroom to sitby Dad.
The techs callout when they enter the suite then follow me to the spare room. Idon’t even look up when they come in, I just keep my eyes on myfather, waiting for him to show any signs of life.
“Has he madeany movement at all since you found him?” The paramedic asks. Ishake my head. “I tried to find a pulse, but I couldn’t feel one.When I shook him, there were strange gurgling sounds coming fromhis mouth, other than that…nothing.”
He tells me tomove out of the way and then keeps asking me questions, “Has heconsumed any alcohol or drugs?”
I don’t know.“I’m not sure. I spent the night at a friend’s then came home andfound him.” I think about how he could have ended up this way? Thetech said that the back of my dad’s head is bleeding and looks likehe sustained trauma. How? And why didn’t he call me? Did he fall onhis way home from work and hit his head and didn’t think it was badenough to call for help? Maybe he was planning on waiting until Igot home to take him to the hospital?
As I watch themen maneuver my dad onto the gurney. They manipulate a plastic maskand fasten it over his mouth then put a cervical collar around hisneck.
“Is hebreathing? Did you find a pulse?” I ask
“His breathingis shallow, and he has a very weak pulse.”
I can barelymake myself ask the words, “Is he going to be ok?”
“I can’t answerthat, Miss. That’s a question for the emergency room doctors.”
“He’ll be fine.He’s my dad. He’s lived through hell and come out the other sidefine. He’ll get through this,” I say, trying to convincemyself.
The paramedicjust nods and continues working with Dad.
* * *
At thehospital, I jump out of the ambulance and the paramedics quicklywheel Dad in through the Emergency ward doors. I stand and watch asnurses and doctors buzz around the gurney like bees to a hive. Itseems so surreal, seeing him so vulnerable and helpless. My braintells me that any minute, he’s going to sit up, pull the mask offhis face and tell everyone to piss off. Helpless, I watch as theyhook him up to wires, machines and IV. Next, they wheel him inthrough a set of doors marked trauma and a nurse walks over to me,“Your father is in serious trouble and we’re trying to save hislife.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, “There are really gooddoctors with him and I’m sure they will do everything they can tohelp him.” She smiles sympathetically.
This can’t behappening. How can I have been out to dinner with him last nightand now, he’s fighting for his life? Like a robot, I turn aroundand walk to the nearest seat. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.Sliding it out, I see Katie is calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey sexy,where are you?” She says, upbeat and happy.
“In hell.”
“What? Jules?What do you mean?” She says, instantly concerned.
I tell her howafter she dropped me off, I found Dad in the apartment unconscious.No sooner do the words leave my lips, than she tells me that she’son her way. A few
