Dear Ol' Dad (a.k.a. 911 - What Is Your Emergency?)

Over the past few months my Dad has begun to make a habit of swinging by my apartment on Saturdays, to catch a lunchtime nap. This past Saturday was no exception.

What was different was that Dr. J was home on a Saturday, having recently changed his office hours so that he now works only during the regular work week. Dad and I were both glad for this.

Shortly after Dad arrived, Dr. J decided to walk to the bank, post office and pick up a half-dozen bagels for us to munch on over the weekend. He took his phone with him, but did not have the phone turned on (NOTE: "words" were had over this later!)

While waiting for Dr. J to return, Dad stretched out on our couch for a nap, while I began cutting up some fruit and making tea. I was about to go into the living room to see if Dad wanted something to drink when I heard some strange noises, and saw my Dad had collapsed on the floor, was having trouble breathing, in extraordinary pain, and generally looked like sh*t!

I thought he was having a heart attack, but Dad thought it was a back spasm. Trying to remain calm (but feeling anything but), I begin phoning Dr. J and sending him a text message. NO RESPONSE -- THE DOCTOR WAS NOT "IN"! I mentally began to debate whether to call 911 or try to get my Dad down into the car on my own, while trying to listen to my Dad's barely audible answers to questions. After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. J shows up as Dad appears to be making a recovery on his own.

But the recovery was short-lived, as Dad began to show all of the same symptoms again, and this time was in even more pain. Dr. J believes it to be kidney stones, so we somehow get Dad down our spiral staircase (damn, how the paramedics would have gotten him down if it had been a heart attack, I have no idea!)

At Sewickley Valley Hospital, Dad has an x-ray and CT scan, and is placed under the care of Dr. Alfredo Munoz. This was a relief to me, as Dr. Munoz is the father of my high school friend Steve. After a few other tests, the diagnosis was kidney stones, and my Dad was thrilled to be placed on an i.v. with painkillers now swimming through his veins!

Most importantly, Dad was discharged in time to watch the Steeler game, and given a prescription for percocet and sent on his way.

I don't know who was happier, my Dad or the nursing staff who were beginning their makeshift tailgate party in one of the empty ER rooms?!

Of course, through gritted teeth Dad was vowing to make a lifestyle change, and that this "was a big wake-up call." Since Dad had previously passed what our family refers to as "the world's smallest kidney stone" about 17 years ago, Dr. J posed the following to his father-in-law, "Wake-up call? Have you been hitting the snooze button for the past 17 years?"

But perhaps the best comment comes from my 8-year-old brother Chad, "Dad shouldn't have eaten that bag of cheese the other day."

Well put, little man!