On Monday, my dad had a heart attack.
Supposedly, he was at Taco Bell when he started feeling chest pains. He went to his car and someone called an ambulance, but when it got there, they had to fight him to get him out of his car. He, being a typical man, thought he knew whats best and didn’t want to leave. They eventually dragged him to the hospital and kept him overnight to run tests.
My brother found out right after it happened, but I wasn’t supposed to know until today. My step dad walks into my room and says that there’s something wrong with my dad but that it’s his story to tell. After I force it out of him, he says that he wasn’t going to tell me because he didn’t want me to worry. Wait, you’re going to tell me that there’s something wrong with my dad, but your not going to tell me what because you don’t want me to worry? I was honestly more worried when I didn’t know what it was! I don’t get it. People have been doing that to me a lot lately…
Do you know what time I went to bed this morning? I finally went to bed at 3:30. I had to wake up and hour and a half later.