My aunt tells her grandchildren stories every night. Because Tori and Phia are fascinated with my brother, the police officer, her stories often focus on mildly exaggerated tales of him catching bad people. My tender hearted girls can’t always take the wild drama. They really don’t want to know about all the bad people. We learned they love to hear true stories about Tye and I when were little.
As this is the family journal, I should probably start documenting some of the stories here. I plan to post a few here. This morning when I asked what their favorite story was, Arleigh said the one about the hospital is the one that she remembers the most. I’m sure I can’t tell it quite the way my mom does. Of course, I have a totally different perspective.
When I was sixteen, my grandmother was very sick in the hospital. My gran was my mom’s best friend and she was clearly suffering right along with her mother. My dad planned a big night out. When my mom arrived home from the hospital he was going to take her dinner and to see Pretty Woman. (Did I just age myself?) He was quite proud that he had planned something. I was supposed to watch my 13-year old brother. Did I mention that I felt awful? My stomach hurt. My back hurt. I was moaning. My dad was really aggravated. He thought I was faking illness so I wouldn’t have to watch the little monster. Unfortunately I felt too bad to come up with that sort of plan.
My mom got home. I was running a fever. I never run a fever. Moaning runs in my family. I think I had actually progressed to full on groaning. My dad was even more agitated. They finally decide to take me to the emergency room. They decided not to stop at our local hospital instead they would go to the hospital that my grandmother was at, about 40 miles away. My father had his emergency lights on. My brother was started moaning because I needed to throw up and he was sitting in the back seat with me. My dad hit 90 mph. I needed to puke. He wouldn’t stop. He told me to hang my head out the window. I remember thinking I had lost all of my insides, head pounding, wind whipping my hair and my brother yelled, “That was awesome!” This is why I need to provide a brother for my girls…
We got to the emergency room. At this point I pretty much felt like the Alien was going to pop out of my back. I got a shot and started to feel much better. The next thing I know, I’m hearing people run. Someone comes by with another shot and I didn’t think I could hold my eyes open anymore. I’m in the hall, barely covered and people are running in and out of the little curtain that I had been laying in. My Dad had a heart attack. In fact, at the time it was known as a widow maker’s heart attack. If he had been anywhere but the emergency room he would have died.
The part of the story that my girls remember… my mom sent Tye up to my grandmother’s hospital room. There was always a family member with her. He decided to watch television in the open waiting room instead of bothering Gran. I was overmedicated. I forgot to mention is was Memorial Weekend, no doctors were around. They decided my dad needed to be transferred to another hospital for surgery immediately. No one could find my brother. All of a sudden Tye heard his name from the hospital paging system. He looked up and said, “Cool. Showed up just in time to head to the other hospital with my mom.
I was left. A family friend and my grandfather showed up to take me to the other hospital. The rest of the story was that I was admitted but no one could find anything wrong with me. God was watching out for us that weekend. Maybe it’s a story my grandchildren will want to hear.
P.S. Grandma, can you believe that of all the stories you told over the course of a week, this is the one they want to hear over and over?