My Dad 's Heart Attack

Have you seen my husband? Is all my mom was shouting as she held my hand tightly, running back and forth through the hospital? A receptionist sent us to a room, which felt like coming into an isolated mausoleum. The cold air enveloped my entire body, ice has replaced my spine and numbness is all my fingers felt. The room was somber dark, dead silence; the only sound heard was the heart machine ... Beep … Beep. There wasn’t anything more traumatizing then seeing my father lain on the bed, unresponsive, tubes coming from out mouth and nose. The sadness and desperation in his eyes broke my heart. All of sudden the heart monitor went off with a loud buzzing sound. A nurse jumped out of nowhere “Code Blue”, in matter of seconds 4 nurses and a doctor surrounded my father, my mom and I mindset was at a shock, like were able to see what was happening but couldn’t do anything our body was some glued to the floor. The doctors and nurses tired to help my father but it was too late,

It was Wednesday morning, 6:30am, and yes I had to go to school. I remember calling and begging, asking if I could take the day off, but mom wasn’t having any of it, so I had to get ready. The pain was gone, which I was fortunate about, but I still felt ill. I hopped into the shower, washed up, and when I got out I collapsed. White light again, but this time it was all I could see. I closed my eyes. I was on the floor, unable to move. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally opened my eyes. I went straight to my bed, and fell asleep. I woke up a mess, and felt worse than before. I looked at my phone, and saw at least six hundred missed called from mom. I called her, fearing for what was to come. “WHERE ARE YOU? WHY DIDN’T YOU GO TO SCHOOL?” She screamed. “I’m at home. I didn’t go to school because I feel worse than before. I really need to go to the hospital.” I whimpered. She told me that we’ll go when she comes back from work, and I agreed. Back to sleep I went. I wake up to my mom rushing into my room. She signaled to get ready by moving her head quickly forty-five degrees to the left. I got ready to leave, and we left at around

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

That day it went by to fast my brother and I tried spending as much time as I could with my dad. That night I went to bed sad I didn’t know if i would wake up in time to say goodbye to him. That morning I woke up and ran to see if my dad was still here. I ran into the kitchen first where I saw him eating ready to leave. He said that they were going to pick him up in ten minutes. Next thing you know we here a knock on the door. I went to answer the door it was some men in uniforms they were there to pick my dad up. My dad said goodbye to us I started to cry when he was leaving and so did my brothers and mom.

We walk back to the shelters to get some sleep, and I sit there awake for a minute until my father falls asleep. In the morning when I awake, my father is very sick, so I take him to the doctor. The doctor rejects to help because he is a surgeon. I take my father back to the shelter to let him rest some more. I leave him to go outside to get more coffee. I think back to all the things me and my father have been through. Losing my mother and sister will always reply through my head, remembering them holding hands and moving off to the left, and my father holding onto my hand, and we walking away from them. The last thing I got to do was just look into there eyes and turn and walk away. Once I got back I found my father not there. I knew where he had gone, they had taken him to the furnace. I dropped to the floor wanting to cry, wanting to have a fit like a normal teenager. Deep into his feelings he thought “Free at last.” He was free to only think about surviving, and not to worry about anyone but himself. I will miss my father. I love him. I will never forget how much he did for me, he is the reason why I am still

As an 11-year-old child most kids worry about going outside to play with friends or on their cell phones not most, children worry about if there is going to be dinner on the table, or if the water is shut off, or if the electricity isn’t working. Most kids don’t have to grow up and act like an adult until their 18 or 19 years old. Not many children at the young age of 11 have to sit and wander if today or tomorrow is the last time they get to see their dad.

When I was twelve I was diagnosed with diabetes, the transition was made easy from the support of my father and the rest of my family. That is until my teenaged years rose and brought up denial of my sickness. I had become irresponsible and was warned many times that my actions would backfire on me. One day, it had; I was hospitalized for 1 week in the intensive care unit and when I had woken up I looked to the right and saw a tear rolling down the face of my dad. My father was always the strong male figure that when he was faced with conflict would treat it with assertiveness and sometimes aggression, so I had never seen this side of him. When I was finally released from the hospital my father and I had a talk on the way home that changed

Before my mom could home she had to get scanning done, after these scanning my mom found out that she had vertigo (it messes up your internal balance)which still till and so does my grandpa which made me scared because there is a chance of me getting vertigo and i was scared because i had no clue what is was at the time and i told my friends i might die from it because i was freaked by it but now i know what it is and i have a small chance i could even get it but that that information was hard for my mom's recovery even harder to take of her. When she came home i was relieved that i got to still have my mom and not have loosened her, even though she was home i didn't really get to here because most of the time she was in physical therapy.

I woke up in a pool of blood, my mom and dad looking over at me. I asked them “what happened”? and my mother responded ”your dad went and got you with the fire hose”. they were crying tears of joy. i felt something on my head, I put my hand on it, it was a bandage from the first aid kit. I looked down the stairs and didn’t see any water. I asked my dad ”dad, Is it over”. he said “yes”!

I hit the ground, and somehow I knew I wasn’t going to get back up. I had gone too far. I was just trying to help, but I wasn’t helping. I had finally realized everybody has to go through hard times. It’s the only way we’re ever really able to learn not to do something. I looked up at my brother, everything was fuzzy, but I could see him looking down at me worriedly. I reached up to grab his shoulder to comfort him, but everything went

“Is it 7:00 already?” I think as I see the light coming through the shade in my bedroom window. “Frank, get dressed and go get some breakfast from the market,” called my mother.

I had always thought that all little girls had the same dream as me. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of the day that I would get married; the most important moment would be walking down the aisle by the arm of my father. My father is one of the most important persons in my life. He is my hero, my motivation, my everything. It never passed through my mind that I would have to struggle with many difficult phases at such a young age.

    All I could feel  was fear while we were driving to the hospital. I couldn’t envision happiness in my life, not even if I won a million dollars. The hospital was cold and had a weird smell that did not comfort me. I went into my mom's room and she looked fine but I knew something wasn't quite right. I asked right away “ What's wrong mommy.” She responded in a very sad voice, “ I have brain cancer.”  I didn't really know what brain cancer was but I knew it was really horrifying.

It was a warm, normal Sunday afternoon in the summer month of August. My mom had taken me to my choreography class for dance, and my dad and brothers went on their usual four wheeler ride down to the creek with family and friends. Normally after my class, my mom would would be there ten minutes early to pick me up. However, my class ended and she was not there. I immediately knew something was wrong when my friend’s mom pulled me outside the studio. She then told me that my dad had been in an accident and was flown directly to the hospital in St. Louis. Instantly, I began to cry as I only thought of the worst possible outcomes, but my caring dance teacher came outside and comforted me as we left for the St. Louis hospital. The entire way there, my friend’s mom consolidated me by assuring me that my dad was tough and was going to be alright.

Before I knew it, Dad was on the phone with 911 reciting our address. I heard through the receiver that they were on their way and would be here shortly. A few minutes had passed, but they felt like years. When the red flashing lights shined through the window, Dad started to gather Mom’s things for the hospital. I told my Mom that I loved her as my Dad ushered me out of the room to go wake Chaz up. Reluctantly, I scurried out of the bedroom and down the hallway into Chaz’s. He was already awake and my Dad had probably told him what’s going on.