It is now February and New Years has faded into history, but here at our house New Year’s Day was quite the memorable day and it’s time I got it written down.

We usually miss the fireworks on New Year’s Eve.  We eat our finger food by candle light, talk about our favorites from the year and then we go to bed.  In recent years the older boys have wanted to stay up till midnight to experience that oh so anti-climatic switch over from 11:59 to 12:00 that leaves us non drinkers feeling somehow gypped.  This year I stayed up with the boys and Rock went to bed so he could get up bright and early and start his new year right, lifting weights at the gym.

When he got home from the gym on New Year’s Day, he was pretty worn out.  He mumbled something about doing heavy lifting with his legs and sat down to rest in his recliner.  He was pretty out of it so I gave up trying to converse with him.  He made himself some eggs at the stove and then sat down to eat them.  I asked him what his plans were for the day and he did not say, “Oh, I plan to pass out three times and spend the day in the hospital.” But that’s what he did.

Right as I asked my question he passed out with a bang as his head hit the floor.  I wish I could say that I kept a cool head and calmly tried to wake him up, but I didn’t.  I panicked, ran over to him and started yelling his name, shaking him trying to get him to wake up.  When he wouldn’t, I ran to the phone and dialed 911.  My brain could not make my fingers push the right numbers.  No wonder they teach you how to do that as a small child and make you practice it over and over.  By the time they answered he was coming to and I sheepishly told them never mind.  He laid on the floor for a long time too woozy to sit up.  Finally after about twenty minutes he sat up in a chair.  A few minutes later he wanted to walk over to his recliner so we tried that but he couldn’t get all the way across the room before sitting down on the couch and passing out a second time.  Panic set in again as I yet again yelled his name and shook him trying to get him to wake up.  And these were not peaceful passing outs.  They were jerky with twitching.  The scary kind. I was scared enough the kids were freaking out by this point. They’d come up to investigate after the initial bang from his head hitting the floor and were there to see me in all my glorious not-calmness.  Libby ran upstairs in tears wile I called 911 again.  I realize that they need to know your address when you call them, but until that moment, never having called 911 before that day, I never knew how nearly impossible it is to remember your address when you are in an emergency.  “My husband could be dying and you want me to spell Buttercup!!!???  I finally got the address out and she walked me through what to do and ordered an ambulance.  I am cheap enough I hesitated a little when she asked me if I wanted her to send one.  I saw huge dollar signs in my head and wondered whether I was just over reacting and should maybe just drive him to the hospital myself, but she convinced me otherwise and hung up.  Not 5 minutes later the ambulance arrived with a fire truck in tow.  As they were making their way to the door Rock, who had come to for a minute, passed out a third time.  I ordered Cade to the door so I could try and revive Rock again.  Five, maybe six EMT’s walked into our house with a stretcher.  They took over asking Rock lots of questions, most of which he couldn’t even answer because he’d forgotten everything he’d done that morning.  After examining him they decided to take him in to the hospital but told me they would  not be turning on their lights as they didn’t feel like he was in that much danger.  If he passed out again, however, they’d flip on the lights and break all the traffic rules, which, I was informed, I was not supposed to do as I followed in the car. I ran upstairs to comfort Libby, say a little prayer with her and send all the kids downstairs to watch some tv.  Oh, and to wake Reagan up.  Yes, he had slept through all the excitement and I felt terrible having to wake him up to say, “So your dad passed out three times and now we are going to the hospital. You’re babysitting.  Good morning!” I called my parents and asked them to come over and be with my frightened children while I went to the hospital.

Somewhere during all of this I had the presence of mind to think, “This is going to make a great blog post someday.” so I snuck Cade my phone and told him to go take a picture of the ambulance and fire truck in front of our house.  I didn’t feel like I could say to the EMT, “Could you hold on a sec before telling me about my husband’s diagnosis while I run outside and take a picture of your ambulance for my blog?”
So I dutifully listened to the EMT and sent Cade to get pictures: