20 April 2001
Hands up anyone who thought my day was going to start thus:
Friday morning: 7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:27 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning, 7:30 am (ish): Drag my ass out of bed, wash hair, get dressed, dry hair, go to work.
That many huh? Yeah, me too.
Instead, my day started thus:
7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
7:20 am: Mum knocks on door. Asks me to get up, and says something about my alarm having gone off three times already and that my dad won't get up either.
7:25 am: Drag my ass out of bed, thinking that Dad is just being as lazy a bastard as I am this morning.
7:26 am: Stop at my dad's room door and watch my mum shaking my dad and shouting his name repeatedly, with no response. Shout "dad" a few times. No response.
7:27 am: Start to get slightly concerned.
7:35 am: Shout "dad" a few more times. Still no response. Hover around door, feeling uncomfortable about going into the room, lest he come too and be mortified at my presence in the same room as him, while he's still in bed and wearing pyjamas.
7:40 am: Go to bathroom. Hear mum shouting dad's name a few more times while I pee and brush my teeth.
7:45 am: Stand ineffectually in the hall while mum phones the emergency doctor service.
7:46 am: Shout "dad" a few times, while mum tries to rouse him again.
7:50 am: Dr phones. Tells mum to dial 999.
7:51 am: Rush upstairs to get dressed and move obstacles out of hallway so ambulance crew can get him out easily, if necessary.
7:56 am: Send SMS message to D to let him know what's happening while I keep one eye on the window looking out for the ambulance.
8:01 am: Ambulance arrives.
8:02 am - 8:30 am: Run up and down stairs ferrying blood glucose monitor, little sticky things and the thing that makes a hole in your thumb to the ambulance crew who are attempting to feed my insulin dependant diabetic dad glucose because they think he's in a hypo, while at the same time keeping the cats under control, because they've picked up the stress in the air and are confused and upset. Open the door for the second ambulance crew who have been called because they still can't revive him enough and the first two guys can't get him out without assistance.
8:35 am: Feel slightly relieved to hear the second crew be told that they're probably not needed because he's started to come round, and also because if it's a hypo it wasn't a stroke.
8:40 am: Get in the ambulance to go to the hospital with my dad.
8:45 am: Check dad into the hospital and go outside to phone the office and let them know that I'll be late in. Feel incredibly irritated and angry when my boss asks me "what exactly happened to your dad?" as if telling him that I had to call an ambulance and am standing in the ground of the hospital isn't reason enough for me to be a little late.
9:30 am: Get home again, with dad in tow, having got a clean bill of health from the hospital, with a diagnosis of hypo and absolutely no idea why.
9:45 am: Get myself some toast, and a drink, and take several deep breaths.
9:55 am: Get changed, brush hair, and go to work.
The rest of the day was kinda blurry and blunt. The adrenaline departed eventually, taking all my energy reserves with it.
The silver lining?
I managed to stay awake all evening despite having a blinding headache, although perhaps watching tonight's Buffy episode wasn't such a smart idea. It was "The Body".
Too close for comfort, really.
No comments yet.
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
Design and content copyright 2000-2007 pixeldiva, except where noted.
Copyright of comments remains with the individual author.
All rights reserved.
Left comments