Both Leah and I look to the epicenter of the chaos, as a crowd closes in tightly and swiftly on someone or something on the ground in the center. It isn’t until I spot my mom and get a look at her face, terrified and drawn, that I realize something really isn’t right.
Leah and I both jump up and take off at a run, me being as careful as I can not to put too much undue pressure on my leg, and fight our way through the crowd of spectators. When we finally get to the center, we find my dad on the ground, sweat beaded all over his brow, his hat on the ground beside him, and he’s clutching his chest.
“Dad!” I yell, dropping to the ground next to him and lifting his head into my hands.
He groans, and Leah takes that as her cue to get rough with the people gathered on the other side of him. “Move!” she yells. “Get out of the way! I’m a doctor!”
People finally clear a path, and Leah drops to her knees in the dirt next to Tex and puts her fingers to the inside of his wrist to feel his pulse.
Calm and assured, she looks to my mom and starts issuing orders. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them we need a medevac chopper, and we need it now.” Mom nods, but she’s shaking, so Rodney grabs her radio from her belt and starts calling in to dispatch.
“Tex,” Leah says with a steadiness I don’t even remotely feel. “I think you’re having a heart attack right now, but I don’t want you to worry, okay? I’m here, and I’m going to make damn sure you make it out of this alive.”
He groans, and she hardens her jaw infinitesimally before barking orders again. It figures that the ambulance that had been here for the rodeo exhibition left half an hour ago, thinking the dangerous part of the event was well-past over. “Go get the medical bag from my truck. Now!” she yells.
Tiny takes off running, and I’m left to see Joey standing there, looking down at us with shock and dismay. Chase is the first face I recognize in the crowd, and I yell orders at him immediately. “Chase, get Joey out of here! Please!”
He jumps into action, spinning Joey around and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders as he drags her away, practically kicking and screaming.
When Tiny comes back, Leah takes the bag from his hands and riffles through it quickly, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and popping the lid off crudely. She dumps a couple pills into her hand and then forms a funnel with her palm to dump them into my dad’s mouth.
His color doesn’t look good, but Leah’s voice is still a soothing melody. “Chew those for me, Tex, okay? And then swallow. I know it’s hard and that it hurts, but concentrate on chewing those up. They’re going to help.”
Next, she turns back to the bag and comes out again with a tablet of something, ripping open the packaging and again directing it to his mouth.
“Hold this under your tongue, Tex,” she commands, rubbing his arm with her free hand in a soothing stroke. “I know this is hard, but you’re doing great.”
My throat feels so clogged it’s sealed right off, and the overwhelming panic at the sensation of suffocation is painful. Still, I don’t want to take anything away from the actual emergency, from my dad getting the care that he needs, so I reach out and take one of his big hands in mine and squeeze tight. Rodney pulls the radio away from his ear to update us. “Helicopter is five minutes out. They were already on a run back from Kanab.”
“You’re okay, Dad,” I say, looking into his normally strong eyes as he tries to blink through the pain. “Leah’s taking good care of you, and a life flight is almost here. You just relax.”
Moments feel like hours as we sit there, doing nothing and waiting for the helicopter to arrive. Leah monitors my dad’s vitals diligently, and a number of fellas from the crowd set up a landing zone so it’s ready, and I live so many years in that short eternity that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to turn them back.
When the helicopter finally lands, and the emergency personnel rush to my dad’s side, stepping away from him and letting go of his hand becomes one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.
Leah, though, she dives right in with her professional hat, asking them a million questions and making just as many remarks a minute.
“Where are they taking him?”
“No, not there. Salt Lake City.”
“Yes, on my authority.”
“He’s had aspirin and a nitroglycerin tablet, and his pulse is tachycardic, though I’ve managed to bring that down some.”