My dad collapsed at dinner. At the hospital, the doctor said: “You aren't His Blood You Can't Donate скачать в хорошем качестве

My dad collapsed at dinner. At the hospital, the doctor said: “You aren't His Blood You Can't Donate

I (26,F) remember the exact sound the fork made when it fell from my dad’s hand. It was a loud clatter against the polished wood of our dining table. The noise cut through our conversation about my recent promotion at work. My mom, Helen, and I both stopped talking at the same time. We turned to look at him. My dad, Frank, was a man who never dropped things. He was steady. He was the rock of our family. But in that moment, his face was pale, and his eyes were wide with a confusion that terrified me. He tried to speak. His mouth opened, but only a small, choked sound came out. His hand, the one that had held the fork, went to his chest. He clutched at the fabric of his shirt. I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor. My mom let out a little gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, yet it was all happening too quickly. “Frank?” my mom said, her voice trembling. “Frank, what is it?” He did not answer. His eyes rolled back slightly, and he started to slump forward in his chair. I rushed to his side, catching him before he could fall completely. His body was heavy, a dead weight against me. I felt a surge of panic, cold and sharp. “Call 911,” I yelled at my mom. My voice sounded strange in my own ears, high and tight. She was frozen for a second, just staring at my dad’s slack face. Then she seemed to snap out of it. She fumbled for her phone on the table, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it. I held my dad, trying to keep him upright, my mind racing. What was happening? A heart attack? A stroke? He had always been so healthy. He went for walks every morning. He ate salads for lunch. This could not be h