Tales Of A Fourth Generation Textile Executive: Just Another Crazy Monday With My Dad
Last Monday at around 6 pm I was walking to Penn Station with my dad to go catch the 611 train. We travel on the same Long Island Railroad line together which is great…especially on this day. Around 605 we peered down the steep stairway to the Penn Station lobby level and had no idea what was in store for us. My dad opted for the escalator and I opted for the steps…literally within arms length of each other.
Around a quarter the way down I looked over at my dad who looked pale. He was complaining during the day that he wasn’t feeling well. I guess you now know where this is going. I asked him if he wanted some water. He said, “No thanks” and then muttered, “Stay close.” STAY CLOSE? STAY CLOSE? This is when I wished I was on the escalator with him, but at this point there can be no regrets. No looking back in the rear view mirror. About halfway down the stairs I hear a tussle and turn back to see what the commotion was about. What happens next turns out to be some of the craziest and scariest 10 minutes of my life that felt like an eternity.
I see my dad with his armpit hanging over the escalator railing, holding himself up, and with a blank stare and pale white face he says something like, “What is going on?” He fainted somewhere between that comment and reaching the bottom of the stairs. This is when my adrenaline kicked in and I hopped in to action remaining as focused as possible the whole time. I ran to the bottom of the stairs and started climbing up the escalator in the wrong direction to reach him. Mind you that some of this is a blur because it all happened so fast, but I somehow managed to pull him off the escalator and got him in a comfortable position. He still looked pale and had a glazed over look, but as I kept smacking his face he kept responding…which definitely made me feel a little better. I would have freaked out if he was unconscious. He laid there for a couple minutes while annoying people gawked and cops started coming over. I was begging for an ambulance.
Suddenly he sat up and was like, “OK, I am good to go, let’s go home.” For real? No way man! He was a little bit of a mess with his clothing disheveled and such. So I helped him up, got him composed and we walked about 5 steps before I told him, “You need to sit back down fast.” Good thing he did because within seconds he went all exorcist if you know what I mean. It was raining blood and I was absolutely baffled by this occurrence. I totally had no idea where that came from and I suddenly started to feel like I was in a Gray’s Anatomy episode. My dad however was joking around and feeling much better at that point though. Me on the other hand, I was totally traumatized and needed a Xanax or ten. My dad didn’t remember anything from the time of saying, “Stay close” to after he exOrcised…that is not exErcised by the way.
Fast forward to an ambulance ride and an arrival at the ER. Diagnosis: silly dad hasn’t been taking his acid reflux meds and the acid gave him a bloody ulcer. All this madness for an !@#$%^& ulcer! Can you believe that? I sure am happy that I was there to help because who knows what would have happened otherwise. I am sure my dad would agree with that statement.
After a couple of days in the hospital, he is now recovering and basically is just a little tired and weak from losing so much blood. Aside from that he should be ok. I told him if he didn’t want to go to the quilt market, he should have just said so.
Wishing my dad a speedy recovery. I love you man! Stop messing with me like this!
Grandpa with my boys at IHOP.
Until next time,
Shell Shocked Scott
PS….No blog next week as I will be at quilt market…sorry.