Father's Day Fuss

Father's Day. A day to honor the man who brought you into this world.....and, the same man that always said "I can take you out of this world too!" when you disobeyed. This year for Father's Day, I was the one that could have very well taken my father out of this world.

Yup, it's another wild story, so sit back, relax and read....

Father's Day rolled around and I never could quite find the right gift to give to my Dad. So, when we all started to gather, I felt terrible for coming empty-handed. Plus, that day was the day I had to say my goodbyes to my family before I left town for 7 weeks. Another double whammy, if you ask me.

I arrived to the party (mind you, it was just my father, my sister, her newborn, and me at this point) a little bit early. We were talking and sitting around enjoying the lazy Sunday afternoon (Don't you just love it when the evening service at church is cancelled for a holiday??! I sure do!). My father, laid down on the floor in the living room to stretch out and catch a cat nap before he had to grill the burgers. Aren't we great kids? We make our father cook the food on his own holiday! Wait, it gets better.....

So, as we're sitting there, I randomly pick up a ballpoint pen on the end table next to the recliner. I get this urge to just toss it at my Dad to wake him from his slumber. I didn't chunk the pen across the room, I just tossed it towards him. As he's facing away from me, I see the pen land in his general direction. All of a sudden, he jerks awake and says "I think I'm bleeding! What was that??!!!" From there, my heart sank. The next thing I know, he's holding his hand over his eye and running towards the bathroom. He shuts the door so me and my sister couldn't disturb him as he assessed the damage. My sister gave me the "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!!!!" stare and guilt trip for the next few seconds as we waited patiently.

When he returned to the kitchen, he was still holding his hand over his eye and making a weird moaning noise. He sounded like it was really painful, folks. My heart, of course, skipped a beat or two. He went over to the kitchen sink to grab a glass of water and then immediately wanted to sit on the kitchen floor next to an air conditioning vent. My sister and I looked on in wonderment what was wrong. We asked to see his eye and he refused, saying it was bleeding. From there, I apologized, he forgave and said to just let him sit for a little while. He removed his hand and there is was.....in ALL its glory....a blooding eye. There wasn't a single piece of white on his eye anymore. It was all RED! I gasped and wanted to cry. I had injured my father on FATHER'S DAY for Pete's Sake!!!! And, I didn't bring a gift!

After our reactions, I guess our reactions made my father worry. At one point he was talking and telling us it was okay, the next- he's passing out into my arms. My sister grabs the phone and calls our neighbor in hysterics. As she's crying and pleading with someone to come help, I'm praying and holding Dad off the floor. I keep talking to him, trying to muster some type of reaction from him. I position myself to where I can look him in the eyes and even though I don't want to see the damage to his left eye, I have to make sure he's okay. I keep shaking him and calling out, hoping to hear him speak. I remember putting my hand over his chest to feel his heart and to feel the air in his lungs....I almost lost it, thinking about if he would stop breathing or have a heart attack. It was scary. Melissa was still freaking out in the living room as I yell at Dad to wake up. She's a wimp, she wouldn't have been able to support an almost 200 lb. man who was dead weight. So, I did it....plus, it was my fault. (And, I didn't bring him a Father's Day gift.)

After a few minutes of pleading and praying, I hear him make a noise like he was going to vomit. As I'm leaning on him to keep him up, I reach for the trash can so he can use it if he needs it. Mind you, he's still not really conscious, so I'm not sure why I thought he could aim if he wanted to throw-up in the first place. I was in the moment, folks. I wasn't thinking straight! So, as I pull the trash can towards him, it spills, dumping coffee grounds all over the floor and him. Because of my predicament, I couldn't deal with the mess and just kept holding on to Dad.

After several LONG minutes, he came to, asking us what had happened. We told him what had happened and that we were taking him to the hospital immediately. He wanted a few minutes to collect himself and to figure out what had happened. He sat there, on the kitchen floor, just waiting until he felt better. Then, he looked down and then looked at me and goes "Where did the coffee grounds come from?" and I just busted up laughing. It was such a long story to tell.

Long story short, my father was okay. I tossed a pen at him, it got him right in the eye, and he blacked out from shock. The doctor's told him he would be fine after a specialist looked at the damage. After he emerged from the ER- with a pirate patch and all- he sat down next to me and goes "Are you okay?" and I just felt like crying. In all this, he was concerned about me the most.

It's funny how things like this bring people closer together. We have this special bond now....and it's sad that it took a pen to the eye to get it. For his birthday I bought a package of pens and wrote, "You better keep an eye out....I'm dangerous!" on the front. He thought it was the greatest gift he'd ever received.

So, the moral to this story? Ummm, hello??!!!! Don't spill coffee grounds on the unconscious.