Just called my folks, who are several thousands miles away on holiday. My dad answered the phone sounding groggy, then handed the phone to my mom. They slept in, she said. Dad spent Monday night in the hospital with chest pains.
[Sound of alarms going off in my head.]
But they don't think he had a heart attack. They're not sure but they think maybe he had an anxiety attack [WHAT???? NO!!!]. But he's going back in today to run on the treadmill and have some more tests.
She went on to tell me about the birthday gift they bought my brother, what the weather's like out there right now, and some other stuff I didn't hear because of the alarm bells going off in my head. But she's okay, he's okay they think so far, and they're so glad I'm coming out to visit for Easter.
I called my husband and, BOOM! my stress meter exploded and crashed to the ground all around my desk, fortunately with the accompaniment of his calm reasonable reassuring sympathetic tone telling me they wouldn't have released my dad from hospital if he'd had heart attack. I got off the phone and continued my meltdown here at my desk. A colleague who is also a good friend came by with some work, saw my distresses and in her calm, reassuring way, asked me a bunch of questions about my dad and I calmed down.
Now, ten minutes later, I can be relieved my dad's not had a heart attack, alarmed he's had such a serious anxiety attack, and very very glad that I have such support all around me.
But I can't have anything happen to my dad, eh. Can't.