Yesterday I was awoken by my phone.

This is not unusual. For the last year I have been using the alarm feature on my cell phone as my alarm clock (laugh if you will, but when the power went out, I was still on time to work....wait....that may not be such a good thing...).

Anyway, I reached over to turn the alarm off, wondering why I had it set for 7:28 in the morning in the first place.

It never actually occured to me that someone might be CALLING.

I answered the phone in a (to be expected) sleepy voice and Dad was on the other line.

"I need you to come and drive me to the emergency room, but don't hurry," was what he said word for word.

"I'm on my way," I said, already out of bed and into a sweater that had been resting on the floor since the night before.

I slipped into some pants and shoes also before grabbing my keys and flying out the door, not bothering to lock it behind me.

I didn't drive too much over the speed limit (is 75 in a 40 considered "too much"?), and was racking my brain to recall the CPR info that I had recently learned. The bad thing is that my brain was just beginning to process that my body had been in a frantic state of motion for seven or so minutes, and it was pissed off at me, and let me know by giving me a huge headache. Well, at least that was the time for it...we WERE going to the hospital.

My frantic state was brought on my my own lack of asking questions. I realized that I had no idea WHY I was taking my father to the ER. I didn't know what to expect when I walked in the house.

My dad rarely gets sick and NEVER goes to the hospital, so I knew this was serious if he was going WILLINGLY.

I had all kinds of scenes racing through my mind as well as the possible solutions. Heart attack? Make a bee line for the asprin and call 9-1-1. Unconcious? Call 9-1-1, lock the dog in the bathroom, open front door and begin CPR until the ambulance gets there. Severed limb? Ice it and call 9-1-1. You think I'm kidding about that? You think my dad would call 9-1-1 on his own if that would happen? Well, alright, he might, but I somehow picture it being more like the Knight on Holy Grail ("It's just a flesh wound...I'll be alright").

I get to the house and find my dad in the kitchen. Very much concious and very much in pain. He doesn't say much, but just hands me the keys to the truck and we head out the door. On the way to the ER, he says he thinks it's his kidneys.

I racked my brain trying to think if I had a spare one of those if needed.

Long story short, it turned out to be a Kidney Stone (*sigh of relief*), so they doped him up, gave him some drugs to dialate the vas deferens and sent him home two hours later.

*sigh*

No one else is allowed to get sick around me this year! That was it....I've filled my quota.

Thank you for your time and attention.