Friday before skydiving

Friday afternoon, after I got home from school, my computer rang.  Patrick was video calling and it had been a long time since we'd caught each other online.  I was glad to see his name pop up.

Then he said, "Mom told me I needed to call and tell you this."  He said it with a strange smile so I immediately got excited that I was going to be an aunt again!  I guess the smile was more of an "I'm not sure how to say this," not, "We're pregnant."

Oh, well.

So he goes on to tell me that he's in the hospital but that things are fine.  That his heart rate was out of control (as usual) at volleyball the night before, but that this time it didn't get back under control, so he admitted himself to the hospital.  Friday he was going to go in for a test and it was no big deal and not to worry.  But that he had to tell me because if I had done the same thing and not told him he'd have killed me.  He was right.

Then he told me to get that look off my face.  I wasn't tearing up, and I wasn't yet worried.  I do a good job of believing everything I hear.  Especially from my family.  I tucked it away and really didn't worry about it.  Even later, when I was told that it wasn't what they thought and he'd have to stay in the hospital through the weekend until they could run other tests on Monday.  I just put it on the back burner and jumped out of a plane!