I never used to be the type of person to get stressed out and worried over every little thing. Now, certain things can make me quite anxious. Most of the time I can figure out the path that has lead me to my new-found anxiety, which helps for some reason, but it still bothers me that I can be so paranoid at times. I think it’s a symptom for the most part of being a Dot Com Bomb victim in the past. Matter of fact, today marks the 1 year anniversary of the day I left my last Dot Com related job. But that’s not the point right now…
My Mom left me a voice mail message at work yesterday to let me know that they were admitting my Dad to the hospital to administer IV drugs. She wanted to know if I could take Jason to his Scout meeting (my Dad normally goes), but she didn’t leave any more details on the message.
I felt the waves of panic coming on as I tried to reach her or my Dad. I called every number I had, but had no luck getting ahold of anyone for 20 – 30 minutes.
My Dad has had problems with high blood pressure and diabetes since I was 10 – maybe even earlier, but that was when he was diagnosed. He is the first male in his direct family tree line to make it past 50 in 4 generations or so. My grandfather died in his 40s thanks to a stroke. My great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather also died in their 40s. So the reason for my worry over the past 25 years is pretty valid. It’s not something I think about often, but I think about it – especially after seeing a cardiologist myself last week.
I finally spoke to my Mom. It turned out that my Dad bumped his arm last Wednesday. On Friday he went in to see the doctor because it was red and inflamed. They put him on antibiotics, but yesterday he went to see an orthopedic about it. It still hurt, and he was worried that maybe he had broken his arm. He didn’t – but it is still red, inflamed, and really hot from his elbow to his wrist. Obviously, after 3 days on antibiotics, that shouldn’t have been the case.
So they admitted him to the hospital and are administering antibiotics via IV. I am sure that he will be ok. But I can’t help but worry that he won’t be. I’m angry because I know he doesn’t take good care of himself like he should – he’s on medicine for his blood pressure and insulin for his diabetes, but this morning when I told him I would be at the hospital tomorrow for my arterial doppler and we could “do breakfast” he said jokingly that I should bring him donuts and coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. Yeah, sure.
I’ll bring a diabetic some donuts. No thanks – I’m not going to enable him to eat poorly. I know he was joking, but I know it’s not too far from the truth either.
More than being angry, I’m scared. I guess that’s part of growing up and being an adult – facing the reality that life doesn’t go on forever and your parents won’t always be around. I know he will come out of this just fine, I’m not worried about that. It’s just a reality I don’t like to think about, and it’s scary when life jars you and makes you realize the truth.