#52snapshots 2022 | Week 31–Lost & Found

This week prompts what we’ve lost and what we’ve found. I sort of ignored the first part and decided to focus on a time around 1967 when I saw my father start to drown in the pool of Boston’s Midtown Motor Inn. I ran to him and because of the water’s buoyant quality, was able to get him up. I was ten.

My twin and I (I’m on the right) with our inflatable swans and our father in the outdoor pool at The Granit, Kerhonkson, NY

There were two other incidents where I helped my father. First, my son and I were in his car with my mother, and we were coming back from a vacation in the Catskills. We were driving along Rt. 17 South on a dreary, rainy Sunday. Both my son and my mother fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of the rain and the windshield wipers. I was sitting behind my father and in the rearview mirror I could see his eyes closing. I yelled, “Daddy!” to wake him up and I stayed on him like white on rice until we arrived safely at his house.

The other incident took place on a Tuesday, I think, and a wave of intuition maybe came over me. I had a sitter that night and decided instead of what I was going to do, I went to my parents’ house. Good thing I did. My father was incoherent, and my mother was hysterical (normally, she was quite stoic). My father, a diabetic, couldn’t even hold a tissue. I forced my mother to call 911. I knew one of the EMTs from high school and was able to rattle off a list of my father’s meds. I don’t know now why or how I would know that, but I did. Apparently, my father’s blood sugar had dropped too low.

All this made me realize that I mobilize in a crisis when it’s not about me. I also had to question how did I happen to be there at the precise moment when my father needed someone.

What is your lost and found story?