I drop to my knees beside her mom, checking she’s breathing.It’s there, but labored.
Her left arm lies slack against the floor, and her face droops on one side.“This isn’t just her AFib.I think she’s having a stroke.”
Hazel appears in the doorway holding Felix, the other kids behind her, their faces pale with worry.“Stay back,” she tells them gently, keeping them away from the scene.“Give them space.”
“Can you squeeze my hand?”I ask her mother.Her right hand grips mine weakly, but her left hand doesn’t move at all.Her speech is slurred when she tries to speak.The minutes stretch, and every second counts with a stroke.I keep checking her pupils and trying to keep her alert.
Finally, a siren sounds, and then heavy footsteps enter as paramedics rush in.I force myself to step back as they take over, my breath coming fast and shallow.Her mother remains conscious but confused, her left side clearly affected.They check her vital signs, do an ECG, and begin a stroke assessment, checking her face, arms, and speech while noting her irregular AFib rhythm.The kids still huddle in the hallway crying, while Hazel tries to keep them calm.
Amelia clutches my arm, fingers trembling.I squeeze her hand.
She looks up at me, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper.“Is she going to be okay?”
I swallow hard.“I think so.She’s in good hands now.”
Amelia nods, but she doesn’t let go of me.And I don’t let go of her.
Not this time.
“You go with your mom.I’ll stay here and take care of everyone.”My voice is steady, even though my insides are anything but.
Amelia hesitates, her grip tightening around her phone.“Are you sure?”
“Yes.Go.Keep me updated.”
She nods, then grabs her purse and hurries after the paramedics, following her mother as they wheel her out on a stretcher.The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows is deafening.
Beside me, Hazel lets out a choked sob.Her small shoulders tremble, her face streaked with tears.I open my arms, and she falls into me, burying her face in my chest.I hold her tight, rubbing slow circles on her back.“It’s going to be alright,” I whisper, even though I don’t know if it’s true.Fuck, I hope it is.
Her breathing evens out after a moment, though I can still feel the occasional shudder.I pull back slightly and rest my hand on top of Hazel’s shoulder.“How about we play a board game with everyone?It’ll keep our minds busy.”
Hazel sniffles and wipes her eyes, and when she looks up at me, I see myself in her gaze.The same worry, the same helplessness.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Amelia:They’re taking her to another town.Stroke center.
That’s good.It means specialized care and interventions.But it also means the damage could be significant.I quickly type back.
Me:Kids are fine.Felix is calm, and the rest are about to play Uno.
I look around the living room, where Hazel has gathered everyone.
“Is Mom going to be okay?Sofia asks.
Hazel shuffles toward her.“The doctors are taking really good care of her.She’s in the best place right now.”She glances at me, and I nod, needing to keep it simple until we know more.
A moment later, she replies.
Amelia:Thank you.
I let out a deep breath, but the tension in my chest doesn’t ease.My phone vibrates in my hand: Keith.
Fuck!I completely forgot to update him.
“Hey, Keith,” I answer.
“Are you still at work?”His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity.
