“I can’t do this!” “What can I do to get out of this?” The constant twist and turns of my stomach. The numbness and tingling sensation in my fingers. At that moment, my anxiety was starting to take over. That day, February 21st, 2019 at approximately 11 am, I was sitting in my speech class, up next to present. I just couldn’t do it. I needed motivation. I needed my dad. TICK, TICK, TICK. The sound of the clock getting louder and louder as it's getting closer to my time to present. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! I could feel and hear the beating of my heart getting louder and faster. I had to make a move quickly. I ran out of the classroom to call my dad, but something wasn’t right. The weakness, the pain, and the suffering I heard in my dad’s voice was a sign that he was not alright. “I fell Myra, so I’m just resting on the steps.” One week prior, my dad had surgery on his prostate, so I began to panic. I hung up the phone and began to make calls. No matter how much my dad told me he was alright, I knew he wasn’t. My mom was at her appointment and couldn’t be reached. The numbness and tingling sensation started all over again. I continued to make calls after calls. I needed someone to go to my house and check on my dad. My head started spinning, the tears started falling, and the nerves were taking over, again. At last, I reached out to my aunt. She headed over to my house to check on my dad and she revealed to me, he was okay. As I was rushing off campus, I missed a call from my dad, and he left a voicemail. But, deep down inside, I knew my dad wasn’t alright. I could hear the agony in his voice. My father was not okay. I quickly called my aunt and told her I needed to speak to my dad. She stressed to me over and over, “He’s alright Myra, he’s resting” but I would not stop until I heard my dad’s voice. At that moment, my aunt finally gave in. As she called his name calmly, there was no response. Then suddenly, the yelling began. “SAM!” “SAM!” “WAKE UP!” CALL 911!” “HE’S NOT RESPONDING.” I heard all of this while driving off campus. The tears started rolling down. I screamed and yelled, “WHAT’S GOING ON?” PLEASE ANSWER ME!”, driving carelessly down Assembly Street.
My aunt had no idea I was still on the phone, I suddenly hung up, and began to call anyone I could think of. It was so hard to get in contact with any of my friends. At this moment, I felt like I had no one. I knew I had to get home, but I could not drive. I screamed louder and louder for help but of course, no one could hear. Then, I finally got in contact with one of my roommates to drive me home. Those two hours were the worst experience of my life.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
There goes my heart again, I just felt like my heart was beating out of my chest.
I needed to speak to someone. I called a cousin who was at the house with my father and my aunt demanding an update. The phone just passed from person to person. No one knew what to say to me. The only thing I remember is another aunt telling me “Just come straight to the hospital, Myra.”
The tears. The headache. The pain.
The thoughts of what might have happened to my father were driving me insane. At that moment, my anxiety was starting to take over again.
2 HOURS LATER
We finally arrived at the hospital. I ran into the hospital and saw so many familiar faces. I immediately asked if my dad was alive and someone gave me a clear answer of “YES”. They immediately carried me to my father’s room. The door flew open and I finally saw my dad. My dad, my best friend, was lying on a table…... TO BE CONTINUED.
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