Worry

I was about to go to sleep, having watched my fill of Impractical Jokers and Family Guy, when my dad walked into the room. He doesn’t ever interrupt me watching stuff before I go to sleep, presumably because he knows how difficult it is for me to settle. But on the 25th of July, at about 00:46 (that’s today in my time zone) he emerged into the living room, where I sleep at my dad’s.

I knew something was wrong, mostly because as he walked in, he stated that he was going to the hospital. Immediately, I was on edge. What was wrong? Was it his back again? Maybe, maybe. “Why, what’s wrong, why are you going to the hospital?” Lots of words tumbled out of my mouth, so fast, I lost track of them. “Well, we need to get this checked out…” and at this point he put his leg on the settee, revealing to me, multiple pin pick spots and a rash. He told me what I already knew- he’d done a test whereby you push a glass against the skin, and if it doesn’t fade, it’s potentially dangerous. I knew this. But I let him speak- “We’re going to the hospital, so that we can see if this is a result of meningitis.” The words fell into my ears and immediately I was trying to reject them.

Seriously. Menin-fucking-gitis. I’ve only ever heard crap stories about meningitis. Especially if you only find it in the rash stage. That was what the nurses at school described as the worst stage, but I like to playfully call it the “fuck, shit, run to the hospital and scream like an ambulance til you get there” stage. So, here I am, nearly 3 hours after being told my dad went to hospital. I’ve promised myself I won’t rest til I know he’s okay. I’ve put my phone on loud so any text or call will come through clearly enough for me to practically jump on my phone. But, I’d fucking kill myself if I fell asleep and woke up to 6 missed calls and 4 texts saying he was fatally ill, or dead.

Right, so that’s that one done then. Not as happy-go-lucky as usual, I do appreciate this, but like I said before, this is for me to rant, not for me to impress or amuse. Not that I don’t want to do that, but my rants come first.

Cheers for reading.

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