Ask me how the concert was.
Go on, ask. You know you want to.
Okay, I’ll tell you.
The concert was fine. Mostly. Except that shortly before my piece I noticed my father was conspicuously absent, and by the time we were assembling to start, he wasn’t back.
Then as we sang through it, I watched as several other people came in, fetched other people, and went out again.
Everyone who was “fetched” was a nurse.
Have I mentioned that my dad has some heart problems?
I have no idea what I sang or how it went.
When it was done I tried to look as casual as possible as I bolted out of the sanctuary and down the stairs. I arrived about thirty seconds before the EMTs.
He’s fine. Obviously. (Even I wouldn’t blog about it if something was seriously wrong.) Probably a bug. Anyway, while I was getting ready to sing, he felt a little queasy and decided to get some air. And collapsed in the vestibule, I guess. I don’t really know what all happened, other than that I’m really grateful that we have so many nurses in our congregation. They were taking excellent care of him.
And then we got to spend some quality time together in the ambulance while the EMTs checked him out. I sent a friend to tend to the kids so that my stepmom could come join us, and we all had a grand time in the ambulance. Even when—as the pinnacle of sensitivity I am—the best joke I could manage was, “You could’ve just told me if you didn’t want to hear me sing!”
The head EMT pointed out that they come to our church every single December. And then I recognized him; I said, “Oh YEAH, you’re the guy who came when someone collapsed during our dress rehearsal for this concert LAST year!” And we sort of laughed, except good lord, that just isn’t funny.
Anyway. We’re all home now. Everyone’s in bed. I’m thinking I may just pass on the concert next year….