Christmas Angst

First writing assignment for my fiction class! Trust me, I did not completely come up with the topic...

It was Christmas Day and warm, because this was Charleston; we were driving downtown to meet up with the ambulance that transported my father. My mind continued to replay all the times that I told him to eat better, to go to the gym with me, to just try and be healthier. I was so lost in thought that I did not notice the abundant amount of red lights that my mother was running through. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as bones, tears streaming down her face. My brother had begged her to let him drive, claiming that she was not in the state to do so, but a wife’s determination is never to be tested.

Pulling into the oddly-shaped horseshoe of Roper, my mother threw the van in park before bolting out and towards the electric doors. Luckily my brother had enough sense to get the keys and hand them to the valet, but I, like my mother, was also in complete focus of getting to my dad as soon as possible.

I thought about the look on his face when it hit him. His eyes dilated and looked dead into mine as he grasped his chest. I barely heard him gasp before my own heart rate accelerated from adrenaline. For some odd, morbid reason, I expected this to happen at some point. But that didn’t change the fear in my stomach or the angst in my heart at seeing him in pain. At that moment, the Christmas turkey in the oven and the unopened presents under the fake, green tree suddenly seemed so frivolous in comparison to him and his condition.

I let my brother, a third-year medical student, perform the needed treatment on my father before the ambulance arrived. As I backed up to give him room, I finally heard myself sob. I reached up to my face and realized that I was crying. I could not bear to lose him.