Checking the Vital Signs

When I was about 10 years old, I came down with a case of the flu. I was out of school for several days, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, my dad is a chronic worrier, so every time I got sick with anything was a time to panic.

I'll never forget what happened one of the nights I was sick during this spell. I was laying on the couch sleeping when suddenly the feeling of someone else being present woke me up. As my eyes opened, I saw Dad leaning over my chest checking to see if I was breathing. I whispered, "Dad, what are you doing?", and he jumped about a mile high. He had been so busy concentrating on my vital signs, he was more than I little shocked to find me awake.

Over the years, this story has provided a lot of laughs for my family. It is the perfect example of the neurosis so pervasive on my dad's side of the family, a neurosis I've inherited in fine form. But Monday, the story became a little more than a joke to me. Monday was our first ultra sound, and for the first time, I saw our baby's heart beating. It was pounding away at an astonishing 173 beats a minute. The pictures we brought home are fairly unimpressive. He or she is currently a blob with other smaller blods connected to it that will one day be arms and legs. But the image of the heart beating, now that was impressive.

As an added not of interest, when I told my dad that the heart is beating at 173 beats a minute, he immediately panicked and asked if that is normal and okay. He still hasn't lost his touch.