Fragility of Life

This past weekend was quite the roller coaster ride.  I went to visit my family (solo; Mr. Wonderful stayed behind this time due to massive amounts of work) and ultimately to visit my grandma who has been doing poorly.  It was such a fun weekend.  After growing up part of a very large family, it was terrific to have my parents and my baby sister to myself.  We cooked great meals, went on some hikes, I got a sexy new haircut (10 inches cut off!), did my last long run for my marathon last weekend and generally had a fantastic time.  Until the last night I was there...we had cooked dinner as usual and my dad tried this recipe he had got to make wings from a friend which involved a lot of very potent spices.  After my dad tried the first one, he just started sweating profusely and felt it burning all the way down his esophagus.  We had a lot of fun teasing him until he kept getting clammier and whiter and then started slumping over in his seat.  At that point (obviously) we decided it was time to go to the ER.  My mom got the car and my sister grabbed all necessities while I sat with my dad.  My father, a very proud, very forceful man could not rise from his chair to make it to the car.  Did I mention I am a paramedic (though currently non-practicing since I started my program)? So here I am watching my dad who is now deathly white (literally), completely soaked through with sweat, complaining about burning in his chest, nausea, dizziness, and syncope get worse before my eyes so I called 911.  He got worse and worse while I was on the line with the dispatcher, losing consciousness briefly but lo and behold, by the time the squad arrived, he was starting to feel much better! So much better in fact that his HR was normal, his color was better, he denied chest pain, though his BP was super elevated.  They did not do an EKG and my dad just kept joking that he'd had a reaction to the spices.  So we told the EMT's we'd take him to the ER now that he was more mobile.  At the ER, my dad continued to make a big joke out of it, and as the EKG came back with only benign variants and his first cardiac enzymes were normal they let him go.  So now I am kicking myself, did I over-react?  But this guys family history is ridiculous (his father had first MI at 49 followed by a debilitating stroke, followed by a fatal stroke.  his mother had a fatal stroke.  and my dad had pulmonary embolism at 50).  He's overweight, never exercises, has a very high-stress job, travels internationally frequently, and eats crappy.  So then, who's the fool? Me for calling an ambulance or the doctor for sending him home so quickly?  All I know is I will never forget the way he looked that night.  Or how helpless I felt.  Or how much that strengthened my resolve to pursue medicine.  Or how terrible it is to watch the strongest man you know fall in front of you.  And realize how quick it can happen.  And how fragile life is.  And how you never are ready.  And how alone and depressed and cold it makes you feel to have no control or ability to help someone you love so much in their greatest time of need.