Ready to Run

My cell phone rang at my summertime job. Since I worked at a daycare, I couldn't answer my phone because the children were sleeping. Moments later, my phone lit up with a buzz. My mom texted me, "Call ASAP." I picked up the phone and walked to the faculty room to call her. When she answered, I heard the panic in her voice say, "Dad had a heart attack." I felt my eyes filling with tears as panic set in. I couldn't make sense of the rest of the conversation. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed to the hospital. 

The short 3-minute drive seemed endless. It felt like I hit every red light there. I pulled into the parking garage and went to the second floor. As I arrived at the hospital, I saw my mom standing in the empty waiting room. Her eyes were red, and she looked overwhelmed. We sat in a big waiting room. It was silent, and we only heard our sniffles here and there. 

My mom had explained to me how my Dad ended up in the hospital. A few hours prior, I had texted asking if he would bike next to me on my long run after work. My mom said he had been doing yard work on that hot July day and suddenly had a sharp pain in his chest. He came inside and took heartburn medicine, thinking it would help. Afterward, he showered, hoping it would cool him off. He poured himself a small juice glass of lemon-lime Gatorade, thinking he was dehydrated. He was sitting in our bright, open sunroom. Thirty minutes had gone by, and the pain was picking up. He called his primary care doctor, who told him to go to the ER. My Dad, of course, drove himself down Harrisburg Pike, taking himself to the hospital that day. 

As I was sitting in the waiting room, I was fully aware of the situation. My head was racing with thoughts, and my chest felt tight as my heart raced. I frequently checked the TV screen that showed where he was in surgery. The more I checked the blue waiting screen, the slower time went as it read, "In Surgery." 

Finally, the man at the front desk called our last name, "Tuzzino." We gathered our things and walked up to the desk. They told us the doctor was on the phone. I still couldn't completely understand the situation and what we may hear. My mom repeated the news from the doctor, saying, "Everything went well!" A wave of relief washed over me and my mom. The nurse showed us a new waiting room to meet the doctor, who explained what happened during surgery. 

The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but I was glad to know he was okay. I was excited to see him after talking to the doctor, knowing everything was better! Moments later, they rolled my Dad out of surgery. The nurses pushed him down the wide, tiled hallway. My eyes filled with tears again, trying not to cry. I wanted to show my Dad I was strong and was there for him. He looks at us, saying, "I'm still ready to run now." Making my mom and me laugh. It was the first smile I had shown since hearing the news.