“I—"
“Jane. Jane, what’s the matter?” A man’s shrill, scared voice blasted me out of whatever story I was about to make up.
I glanced around and found a couple standing not too far from us. The Airmen wore the same uniform as Ace, while the woman with him wore a black ball gown.
He called her name again, his voice cracking that time.
I looked over at Ace. “Call 9-11.” I gave him the order before heading over to the couple.
“Jane, talk to me,” the older Airman called again as I reached them.
“Sir, what’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked at me with worried eyes. “My wife. She’s babbling, and I can’t understand what she’s saying.”
I looked toward the woman who appeared to be in her early to mid-fifties. “Ma’am, my name is Savannah. I’m a physician assistant. Can you do me a favor and recite the ABCs?”
She opened her mouth and a slur of incoherent babblings poured out. Before I could ask her my next question, she stumbled. Her husband and I both took either side of her and guided her over to an empty chair.
Once she sat, I kneeled in front of her.
“Jane, can you smile for me?” I asked.
She attempted a smile, and my stomach dropped when I saw only half of her mouth move upward. I looked up to my right and saw Ace on the phone standing over me.
“Is that 9-11?”
He nodded.
“Sir,” I turned to the woman’s husband. “How old is your wife?”
“She just celebrated her fifty-third birthday last week.”
I nodded. “Can you tell me how Jane was feeling today? How was she when you arrived?” I asked him, looking between the couple.
“She said she was feeling a little lightheaded when we arrived. I thought that was because she forgot to eat.” He paced a little. “You’re always forgetting to eat, honey.”
“And how long ago was that?” I asked, bringing his attention back to me.
“How long ago was what?”
“When you arrived, how long ago?”
“Uh, around eight, I think.”
I looked at the time on my watch. “Okay, that was thirty minutes ago.” I patted Jane’s hand, getting her to look at me. “You’re going to be all right, okay?” I encouraged. “Help is on the way.”
I stood and took the phone from Ace. “Hello?”
“Ma’am,” the operator said.
“Yes, we have an emergency. Jane…” I glanced over at the lapel on the man’s breast pocket. “Caldwell.” I assumed her last name was the same as his. “Jane Caldwell, age fifty-three. She’s unable to recite her ABCs. Only half of her face is mobile. Husband says she began experiencing symptoms about thirty minutes ago.”
I relayed all the information to the operator, knowing she would feed whatever I gave her to the paramedics that were on the way.
“Is she breathing?”
“Yes, but it’s shallow. How far out are the ’medics?”
