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Captain Shou's Log
This is where I'll be posting my life. Well, just bits and pieces of it. My life, stories, poems and other 'inspirated' things I write, just whatever I feel like sharing. I like comments :D
Dairy Queen Collapse
I haven't written one of these in a very long time. WOW.

Anyway, yesterday (or technically the day before, on the 9th), Dad decided to treat everyone to IHOP.
Me, my mom, my brother, my brother's girlfriend, and even some leftovers for three big dogs (his dog and my two).

We took two cars because five of us is tough to squeeze into either vehicle, and in case Mom's car battery died again, but that didn't happen.
It took a while for us to find specifically an IHOP, but we did find one, and three of us at burgers. Only Dad had a breakfast meal. The luxeries of a restaurant, you can order whatever you want!
Everyone resisted to urge to talk about gross stuff at the table, which was nice, and also rare at least for the parents.

When we finished eating, and just before paying, Dad started acting weird.
He seemed confused and like he couldn't focus. No one really paid any attention to it, and Mom said it was increasingly normal for the past two years. Nothing I'd have noticed since we don't live in the same building anymore (but our apartments are just a sidewalk apart, one 'sidewalk' slab), so I took her word for it that it was fine.

Out in the IHOP parking lot, Dad suggested ice cream, but I really didn't want any. Turns out nobody did. I mean, we did package a bunch of leftovers for later, we were all too full.
The plan was to just go home, but Dad seemed particularly focused on ice cream, so he swerved his way to Dairy Queen, with us following. He swerved into the wrong side of the row three or so times, I think?
So when he parked and got out of his car, while everyone was still getting out of Mom's car, I caught up to Dad and asked if he was okay, he was swerving, and he just sort of ignored me and talked about ice cream.
A few steps later, going into the building, he started sounding really loopy. He caught his finger on the bar that opens the door, claimed he was stuck, and giggled. He used his other hand to get his one hand off, but he wasn't ACTUALLY stuck. There wasn't anything to catch him ON. Now I was REALLY concerned.
I glanced worriedly at Mom, but she just shrugged it off, and flew off to the nearest toilet.
I guess that was a good thing, because she procrastinated long enough for Dad's true nature to come out before he crashed into something or something.
Since no one wanted ice cream, Dad just looked at us confused like "why're we even here, then?" not indignant or annoyed, just confused.
So he shrugged, made his way out the door, and off the sidewalk, into the nearest handicapped space, his knees give out and he falls over, still concious. Mom freaked out and ran toward him, and I ran back into the DQ and coherently but frantically asked someone to call 911 "my Dad collapsed just collapsed!". An employee was quick to start calling, but a customer who didn't seem to hear me asked if I needed a bathroom since I was dancing around a little...Plus I had my hoody on which covers my chest pretty well; I look like a 12-year-old girl still.
An employee wandered out to where Dad was with a wireless phone and handed it to Mom, who started telling whoever it is behind a 911 call that Dad has terminal cancer, we need an ambulance right away, he collapsed, etc, 'do you need the address?' they have the address, blah.
Mom at least got Dad into a sitting position and he was shifting around with giggling, being confused, and panicking.

The first one to come was a police woman, she wasn't much help, but she was nice at least.
The second one was a fire truck. I silently groaned because it had already been ten or so minutes and mumbled frustratedly under my breath 'that's not any help! Where's the ambulance?!'
I kept shifting between checking on Dad (Mom stayed by him all throughout) and staring into the street for the ambulance.
When it finally came, about 15 minutes after the call, the EMTs talked to Dad and brought him into the ambulance, and then started questioning Mom.
I just kept asking if Dad could breath. He had pancake syrup at the restaurant, and if they're lousy cheapskates it probably has high fructose corn syrup in it, which now makes Dad puff up. But he could breathe, so he was fine on that at least.

After what felt like an eternity, and probably only one blood test (I couldn't see inside the ambulance, I didn't want to either), I guess they determined Dad was just dehydrated, and he could go home.
He still kept repeating things like 'why didn't we get ice cream?' and 'Where's Tigger?' his dog and 'Where are we?' and 'What's going on?'
Especially because we all had to cramp into Mom's car, which made Dad extra confused. I had to answer a few times while Mom got gas so she didn't run out. Ron, my brother, ran into the gas station and got Dad a drink. He said he started to feel better, but he still repeated things.

When we got home, I told Ron to help Mom help Dad just in case, and Minjee unlocked the door for us. I... rushed to the nearest bathroom. I had a lot of tea at the restaurant.
Unexpectedly, Dad was lead into my apartment so he could see his dog. He had a nice coherent conversation, and I gave him what I thought was the last of the cinnamon tea. That way he'd have something "that wasn't yucky water" to drink (his words), but was still water. It doesn't have caffeine, so it wasn't going to sap out the water he placed in himself.

When he had a rest and seemed coherent, Mom lead him back to his apartment, and I followed to be a "panic button" in case Dad fell down the stairs or something.
Dad got up all the stairs okay, but his knees buckled at the first door of the top floor hallway. he lives three doors in, the middle. He had to take a few minutes to catch his breath, and we were on our way again. I'm not even sure if he noticed I was around, but that's okay, it wasn't about me.
Mom got him to his apartment, and I think he collapsed again inside. I was waiting at the top of the stairs, ready to call 911 or what have you, and Mom even called for me to do so, but dad was "fine".

Today, or yesterday technically, after Dad had a lot of rest and rehydration, he is completely coherent, a lot less freaked out now that he knows what's going on and can remember things for more than two minutes, and just overall better.
The worst he has is a small fever, probably from stress.

So, that was a pretty eventful day, huh?
Worse for him than for me, but it was bad for all of us.
And now it's better.

He's terminal, so he's definitely probably going to die in the next few years, but for his sake, I hope it's without his notice so he doesn't have to panic about the unknown scariness of it all.

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