and he dialed 911 without looking away from my mom’s pale, still face. “We need an ambulance at—shit, what’s the address here?”
I glanced at the listing sheet crumpled on the ground. “818 Larchmont.”
“46-year-old unconscious woman. She just fainted here. Has had a recent history of vomiting, dizziness, fatigue. Stated she’s lactose-intolerant. Off-duty Lieutenant Ryan Ashford, Pittston Police Department, on scene.”
He listened for a minute. “No, I don’t know about any other preexisting medical conditions. Do you?” he asked me.
I shook my head. Mom’s eyelids fluttered and she moaned a bit, then opened her eyes and squinted at the bright sun. Ryan bent down and shaded her eyes with his hand and frowned down at her. She shifted and made as if to rise, so he helped her up into a sitting position and sat down behind her so she could lean into him.
She looked around at us with a sheepish smile. ”I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“Grammy, what’s the matter? You scared me,” Benjie said, his little face all scrunched up with childish worry.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Benjie. There’s nothing you need to worry about, my darling. I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather. Come here.” She opened her arms and gathered him close, petting his little back and brushing a gentle kiss on his head.
“Ok. I’m gonna go over there and look in that hole,” he said, scampering away, relieved now that his grandmother seemed to be ok. I, however, was not convinced. She looked awful.
“Mom, what is going on? Are you sick?” I asked, accusation ringing in my voice. Ryan shot me a warning glance, but I ignored him. Now that she was upright and conscious, I had to find out what the hell was going on. I had a feeling she was holding back on me. The trepidation inside me felt as though it was ready to burst through my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up.
“Catie, honey, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you. Ryan, help me stand up, would you?”
“Nope. Not until the ambulance gets here,” he said in his firm cop voice.
As if on cue, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer.
“An ambulance? Oh, dear. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine now, really,” Mom said reassuringly. “I’m actually a little embarrassed. You didn’t have to call an ambulance for me. It’s nothing.”
“Mom, you passed out. You’ve been sick and weak lately. Don’t tell me you haven’t, because I’ve seen it and so has Benjie. You’re going to go get checked out,” I insisted.
Two paramedics lugging a stretcher appeared in the back yard. Chad Barnes, one of the EMTs and Ryan’s friend, said, “Hey, Ashford, who’s our patient?”
“Right here, Chad. This is my mother-in-law, Maria DiCarlo. She fainted in the back yard.”
“History?”
“Nausea and dizziness. Fatigue. Lactose-intolerant,” Ryan said, glancing at me. I looked away, staring at my mother, whose cheeks were now flushed with what I presumed to be embarrassment. I preferred it to the wan pallor she had displayed so often lately. But embarrassed or not, she was going with Chad.
“I’m fine, really. I don’t need to be seen.”
“Yes, she does,” Ryan said evenly. “Maria, you’re going. Don’t make me force you. Do this for Catie, ok?”
She glanced at Ryan and nodded slightly.
“Ma’am, fainting is not something ‘fine’ people do. Let’s get you checked out.” Chad held out a hand and pulled Mom up. He escorted her to the stretcher and started an IV drip. The other paramedic checked her vitals. They spoke together in clipped, professional medical jargon, and as I listened, I grew even more worried. The numbers they murmured weren’t encouraging.
“Where’s Grammy going?” Benjie asked, bounding over to the stretcher and looking up at Ryan worriedly.
“She’s gonna go to the doctor’s, pal. We just want to make sure she’s
I glanced at the listing sheet crumpled on the ground. “818 Larchmont.”
“46-year-old unconscious woman. She just fainted here. Has had a recent history of vomiting, dizziness, fatigue. Stated she’s lactose-intolerant. Off-duty Lieutenant Ryan Ashford, Pittston Police Department, on scene.”
He listened for a minute. “No, I don’t know about any other preexisting medical conditions. Do you?” he asked me.
I shook my head. Mom’s eyelids fluttered and she moaned a bit, then opened her eyes and squinted at the bright sun. Ryan bent down and shaded her eyes with his hand and frowned down at her. She shifted and made as if to rise, so he helped her up into a sitting position and sat down behind her so she could lean into him.
She looked around at us with a sheepish smile. ”I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“Grammy, what’s the matter? You scared me,” Benjie said, his little face all scrunched up with childish worry.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Benjie. There’s nothing you need to worry about, my darling. I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather. Come here.” She opened her arms and gathered him close, petting his little back and brushing a gentle kiss on his head.
“Ok. I’m gonna go over there and look in that hole,” he said, scampering away, relieved now that his grandmother seemed to be ok. I, however, was not convinced. She looked awful.
“Mom, what is going on? Are you sick?” I asked, accusation ringing in my voice. Ryan shot me a warning glance, but I ignored him. Now that she was upright and conscious, I had to find out what the hell was going on. I had a feeling she was holding back on me. The trepidation inside me felt as though it was ready to burst through my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up.
“Catie, honey, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you. Ryan, help me stand up, would you?”
“Nope. Not until the ambulance gets here,” he said in his firm cop voice.
As if on cue, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer.
“An ambulance? Oh, dear. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine now, really,” Mom said reassuringly. “I’m actually a little embarrassed. You didn’t have to call an ambulance for me. It’s nothing.”
“Mom, you passed out. You’ve been sick and weak lately. Don’t tell me you haven’t, because I’ve seen it and so has Benjie. You’re going to go get checked out,” I insisted.
Two paramedics lugging a stretcher appeared in the back yard. Chad Barnes, one of the EMTs and Ryan’s friend, said, “Hey, Ashford, who’s our patient?”
“Right here, Chad. This is my mother-in-law, Maria DiCarlo. She fainted in the back yard.”
“History?”
“Nausea and dizziness. Fatigue. Lactose-intolerant,” Ryan said, glancing at me. I looked away, staring at my mother, whose cheeks were now flushed with what I presumed to be embarrassment. I preferred it to the wan pallor she had displayed so often lately. But embarrassed or not, she was going with Chad.
“I’m fine, really. I don’t need to be seen.”
“Yes, she does,” Ryan said evenly. “Maria, you’re going. Don’t make me force you. Do this for Catie, ok?”
She glanced at Ryan and nodded slightly.
“Ma’am, fainting is not something ‘fine’ people do. Let’s get you checked out.” Chad held out a hand and pulled Mom up. He escorted her to the stretcher and started an IV drip. The other paramedic checked her vitals. They spoke together in clipped, professional medical jargon, and as I listened, I grew even more worried. The numbers they murmured weren’t encouraging.
“Where’s Grammy going?” Benjie asked, bounding over to the stretcher and looking up at Ryan worriedly.
“She’s gonna go to the doctor’s, pal. We just want to make sure she’s
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