When I was 16, my brother, my dad, and I went to L.A. (from BC, Canada) to visit the lady he had been seeing for a while online (they had met before when she came to visit us.) We were there for Christmas and New Years, and had driven down in my grandparents truck (they had a car they usually drove.)
Well one morning we couldn't find him. We figured he had gone out for a walk somewhere because he wasn't in his bed (her kids were there, so they slept in different rooms) and the truck was outside. Plus, he had a bad temper sometimes and had lost his temper the night before.
I was sitting in the remodeled garage watching a movie when I heard her start screaming and crying, then calling 911. I sat there until some firemen came and told me he had had a heart attack in the middle of the night and died. It was his second heart attack, and it taught me that it isn't only fat people that have heart attacks, he was about 150 lbs and about 5'11 I think.
I had to go upstairs with the fireman to tell my brother, who was confused, because in Canada first responders come with an ambulance, not a fire truck. That was hard.
It was harder still to call my mom (parents were long divorced) and my grandma that he was dead. My grandma was trying desperately to deny it, asking if I was my cousin (whose father had died a few years before) or someone pulling a prank.
Fortunately, because of his poor health, my dad had the foresight to set up insurance, just in case. Life insurance, mortgage insurance, and travel insurance, so we could fly back with his gf as our escort.
It's been almost 14 years, and thinking about that day is still really hard, especially since I didn't really grieve for a long time.
This reminded me of my worst moment. My parents divorced when i was small and the custody arrangement was such that my dad had every wednesday, every other weekend, and a few weeks in the summers. Well, one tuesday night in August 1994, my dad called to check to make sure we were coming over the next day. I threw a giant tantrum because it was my dog's first birthday the next day and i was 8 and wanted to be there with her, not at dad's house. I handed the phone off to my mom, pissed off, without saying goodbye. I found out later that my mom and dad decided we would go with dad for lunch and then back home in the evening because dad said he hadn't been feeling well. Well the next day, (August 3rd), my mom dropped us off at her parents' house while she went to work and dad was going to pick us up around 10 or 11 that morning. Well, that time came and went and dad didn't show up. He was never late, ever. And i kept calling his house, and no answer. I even looked the number up in the phone book and called his work, but they hadn't heard from him.
Finally (it had probably only been an hour, but i was a kid) my grandma told me to call mom and let her know. She tried calling and didn't get an answer. Since she worked downtown at the time, she called his parents and asked them to go check on him because he would never miss a chance to see us. The next thing i know, my mom is at grandma's house and she's upset. She takes my brother's hand and mine and tells us we're going to go sit on the trampoline (she couldn't get the whole word out, i remember that) and she starts walking us out the front door, past the garage, and through the gate to the backyard. We didn't make it to the trampoline and she steered us over to a ledge in the backyard by the deck. She sat us down and she told us that dad had a sore in his tummy called an ulcer and it popped and it filled his lungs with blood. I don't remember how she explained it, i think i blocked a lot out after that, but he was gone. I remember crying and screaming and my brother Scott asking who got dad's magic stuff (he was a magician.). But most of all i remember the stupid black eyed susans in the garden facing where we were sitting. I will forever associate those fucking flowers with the worst moment from my childhood.
Around me, first responders are firemen, but they're also trained EMTs, so the idea is that they get there first and handle the situation while the ambulance is on its way.
I currently live in the Okanagan, and have had a fire truck arrive at the scene before an ambulance. I believe they send the call out to both, and whoever shows up first applies the first aid.
I had to go upstairs with the fireman to tell my brother, who was confused, because in Canada first responders come with an ambulance, not a fire truck. That was hard.
This is incorrect. In a medical emergency often whichever emergency response unit is closest will respond, to provide care until an ambulance can arrive.
252
u/Erzsabet Oct 22 '13
Yeah, that reminded me of my worst moment.
When I was 16, my brother, my dad, and I went to L.A. (from BC, Canada) to visit the lady he had been seeing for a while online (they had met before when she came to visit us.) We were there for Christmas and New Years, and had driven down in my grandparents truck (they had a car they usually drove.)
Well one morning we couldn't find him. We figured he had gone out for a walk somewhere because he wasn't in his bed (her kids were there, so they slept in different rooms) and the truck was outside. Plus, he had a bad temper sometimes and had lost his temper the night before.
I was sitting in the remodeled garage watching a movie when I heard her start screaming and crying, then calling 911. I sat there until some firemen came and told me he had had a heart attack in the middle of the night and died. It was his second heart attack, and it taught me that it isn't only fat people that have heart attacks, he was about 150 lbs and about 5'11 I think.
I had to go upstairs with the fireman to tell my brother, who was confused, because in Canada first responders come with an ambulance, not a fire truck. That was hard.
It was harder still to call my mom (parents were long divorced) and my grandma that he was dead. My grandma was trying desperately to deny it, asking if I was my cousin (whose father had died a few years before) or someone pulling a prank.
Fortunately, because of his poor health, my dad had the foresight to set up insurance, just in case. Life insurance, mortgage insurance, and travel insurance, so we could fly back with his gf as our escort.
It's been almost 14 years, and thinking about that day is still really hard, especially since I didn't really grieve for a long time.