When I was 6 years old I was in the hospital for a week or so due to scarlet fever.
I woke up one morning and my legs just did not work.
My mom thinks it was caused by the antibiotics I was on, but to this day we don't really know why or how it happened.
I don't remember much from the experience, except for a conversation I had with my dad.
He promised me that if I got better, he would quit smoking.
I got better.
He never quit.
To this day I bring that conversation up with him because it is one I will never forget. Even though I was only a child, I knew how bad smoking was and wanted my dad to quit so he could be around forever.
This past weekend my dad had a heart attack.
Thankfully it was mild, but he is in the hospital and undergoing a series of tests and procedures.
I wish he took his health more seriously. I worry about him everyday and now one of my worst fears has come true.
I know he is going to be okay, but I hope he realizes how lucky he is.
He gets a second chance.
Not many people are that lucky after something as serious as a heart attack.
Dad if you're reading this, I love you and can't wait until you're home again.
Thank you to everyone for your continued thought and prayers.