Imagine you’re at school. It’s around 6pm and you just got out of a two almost three hour long practice. Then you pick up your phone and see a text for your sister. Normal, right? I know I didn’t think anything of it when I went to open it.The text said “Come home after practice I have something to tell you.” I instantly knew something was wrong. It had to be my dad. I was right.

I’ve always dreaded the day my dad would be sent to the hospital. I knew it was going to happen; I expected it to be sometime soon, but I didn’t want it to be now. My dad has never been good about his health. He has always had high blood pressure. It has always been over 200, which isn’t good. Each time anyone in my family would try to convince him to go to the hospital,  of course he would refuse and say it “runs in the family.” Typical for a dad to say, right? Well it was for my dad anyway. The problem with high blood pressure in my family is that people have died from it. My dad, like other people, doesn’t think that could ever possibly happen to him. He’s wrong though. It could happen to any of us.

I remember walking into the hospital, gross and sweaty from practice with tears streaming down my face. I looked insane. The people surrounding me probably thought I was insane. What do you expect? My dad was sent to the hospital, and no one would tell me what was wrong. They just sent me a stupid text message. I just wanted to see my dad and know he was okay. Why wouldn’t they just tell me he was okay? 

So there I was frantically looking for the correct elevator to take me to the correct floor. It felt like hours, but really it was only seconds. I then began reading down the endless amount of rooms; 2030, 2031, 2033, 2034. Finally, I found the one I was looking for. 

I was so scared to walk in. I knew my dad wasn’t dead; they would have told me that. How was I supposed to know what was on the other side of that door though? So after a few seconds of mental debate, literally in the middle of the hospital hallway, I walked in. 

Nothing was like I expected. I expected to walk into the room and see my dad laying in a bed looking sad or a little upset, maybe sick. I expected my mom to be sitting next to him crying. She always cried in stressful situations, but she wasn’t. My dad was fine. Nothing was wrong. Well, on the outside anyway. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I knew he was fine. All I wanted to know was if my dad was alright. Then the tears started again. This time they were tears of relief. Everyone was okay.