Dad's stroke

I remember the day my dad suffered a stroke.  My phone rang and I was asked to “come check on Dad.  He thinks he has had a stroke.”  I drove the eight miles to his house; that day, it seemed to take longer than usual. 

I walked into Dad’s house and saw him sitting at the dining room table.  I knelt down beside him and looked him in the eyes.  With a slurred speech and one side of his mouth drooping, he said, ‘Sharon, I think I’ve had a stroke.’  I agreed, ‘I think you have too’ and we both cried.  Then we went to the hospital for stroke treatment.  Dad recovered enough to walk without falling but he never recovered full usage of his affected arm.