Racing Against Time

Whenever my parents or siblings call me late at night, I am always scared. I don’t pick up their calls immediately as I try to process everything that could have gone wrong with them or the rest of my family members.

Picking up the phone and bombarding them with questions before they get the chance to talk has always been my MO. Hearing them laugh after hearing how anxious I am makes me relieved. Phewww, we survived another night, I usually tell myself.

As days and months rolled by, I warned my family not to call me after 10 pm, this is to reduce the number of panic attacks I get just from seeing their calls in the middle of the night. Did this family of mine listen? Hell no! To them, the gist and gossip just couldn’t wait till the next day.

The calls kept coming in regardless of my constant warnings. Surprisingly, it did help me get over my fear as the calls became frequent. It got to a point where I started anticipating their calls.

Things were going smoothly. I had my family, distance, and communication had nothing on us, or so I thought.

It happened, the one thing I had dreaded and prayed against happened and in a split second, it felt like my heart was about to explode.

“Hello sis,” my little sister Julie said over the phone.

“What do you want this time?” I sounded irritated.

“Lucy, it’s Mum,” she yelled.

What happened to Mum?” Not recognizing my voice.

“We rushed her to the hospital, she had a heart attack.” Julie cried out.

“How? Why? Since when? What hospital?” At this point, my heart was racing and I was losing my mind.

I could hear my sister talking but I couldn’t hear a word that she was saying. Fear gripped me, making me zone out.
I was later brought back to reality by my sister calling my name.

“Lucy, are you there? Are you okay?” she asked.

Not answering her questions, I asked for the hospital address and she sent it.

The moment I hung up, I immediately searched for my keys and stormed out. Not watching the staircase in front of me I ran, taking two steps to three steps at a time, I didn’t care.

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I made way straight to the garage to get my car.

As tears rushed down my face and blurred my vision, I opened the door of my car and I didn’t care about driving myself late at night despite being a beginner.

I drove as fast as I could, beating traffic and road signs. I cried and prayed all through the ride. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for healing, peace, hope, just anything that could still the storm in my family’s life at the moment.

Arriving at the hospital I ran like my life depended on it and made my way to my mum’s room.
Opening the door I was greeted by some friendly faces, some faces I recognized, some I didn’t.

“Lucy how did you get here?” my mother asked.

“Did you fly down here? Wait, you drove yourself by this time?” I was too tired and terrified to answer their questions.

“Mum, how are you?” I let out a light whisper.

“She is fine, she had a little heart attack, but her heart is fine. She needs to be placed on medication.” The doctor replied with a smile.

Hugging my mum tight I cried, not wanting to let go of her, I stayed locked in with the woman who mattered the most to me.

“Calm down Lucy, I am not dying anytime soon, you are stuck with me and my problems for life.”

I smiled and said a little prayer to God. He did it, the miracle happened.

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XOXO