Before The Phone Rang

There is nothing I can do.
Now that he is in a hospital bed with tubes and needles sticking in him.
He is pale and sweaty and vomited.
They are trying to force fluids into him, trying to bring him back. 
I am hundreds of miles away
thirty-two floors up,
watching the waves lap at the shore,
and worrying.
This afternoon,
I lay on the table with needles in me,
trying to relax. Everything bothered me.
The wind blowing in through the open window.
The music in the distance.
The needle in my leg kept aching while the ones in my ears kept itching.
I felt pinned down, panicked,
the opposite
of what was supposed to be happening.
When it was over,
I didn’t get the “relaxed-high” I usually get.
I sat on the dark wooden bench
outside my room and put on my tennis shoes.
A few moments later,
my cell phone rang.
A nurse from my father’s assisted living facility
was calling to tell me the paramedics had just arrived
and were taking him to the hospital.
I don’t know if that’s why I couldn’t relax,
or not, but I think
some part of me
knew something was wrong
even before the phone rang.