Annie Fisher sat in Dr. Fitzgerald’s waiting room, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her apron. The curious glances at her from other waiting patients only added to her nerves. She kept checking the clock, wishing for a bit speedier passage of time.
When her name was finally called, she was led into a fancy exam room and questioned by the nurse. Then came more waiting, until the ENT finally knocked on the door and came in. He looked as young as Charlie, though he carried himself entirely differently. A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard and glasses that magnified his gaze. “Hello, Annie. I’m Dr. Fitzgerald. I hear you’re having a little trouble with car sickness?”
Annie’s gaze stayed on the top of her shoes. “More than a little.”
The doctor nodded sympathetically. “Let’s do some tests and see what’s going on.”
First up was the hearing test. He handed her a pair of bulky headphones. “Just raise your hand when you hear a sound.”
The beeps from the headphones seemed to come from all directions, and Annie tried her best to stay focused. She raised her hand with each beep, feeling like she was participating in an odd exercise routine—each beep a cue to respond.
Next came the VNG system, whatever that meant. The doctor handed her a pair of large goggles and said, “These are to track your eye movements. Follow the lights with your eyes.”
The lights moved in a pattern that reminded her of the flickering lanterns used for evening gatherings. Following them felt less like a test and more like an exercise in patience.
Then came the caloric stimulation test. The doctor carefully placed a small device in her ear. “We’re going to use warm and cool water to check how your balance system responds.”
The warm water trickled in first, followed by the cool. The sensation made her head feel like it was being gently rocked, though not in a pleasant way. She focused on her breathing, determined to stay steady even as she felt wobbly.
When the tests were finished, the doctor removed the equipment. “I’ll review the results and send them over to Dr. Stoltzfus. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
The problem, Annie thought as she guided the horse and buggy onto the road, merging with cars, was that getting to the bottom of this might signal the end of her dream.
Dok hung up the phone, having just received the ENT’s report on Annie’s tests. She exhaled deeply, a hint of worry slipping through. After a moment, she called Annie in.
“Have a seat,” Dok said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk, her voice steady but serious.
Annie sat down, hands clasped tightly in her lap, as if she already had an idea of what was coming.
“So, Dr. Fitzgerald called. He is convinced you’ve got something called vestibular dysfunction. It’s a condition with the inner ear, and when there’s a mismatch between what your inner ear senses and what your eyes see, it can cause this kind of severe motion sickness.”
Annie’s shoulders slumped, her disappointment palpable. “I’ve read about it. It’s not something that can be fixed quickly—maybe not at all.”
Dok leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk top. “I realize what this means to your plan to become an EMT.”
“Kills it,” Annie said, her eyes shiny with tears.
“Maybe ... postpones it indefinitely. But until then, I’ve been thinking of an alternative path for you. Similar, but different.” She paused, waiting for Annie to meet her eyes. “What wouldyou think about becoming a public safety telecommunicator? You know, a 911 dispatcher?”
Annie blinked back tears, clearly taken aback. “A dispatcher?”
Dok nodded. “You’d still be involved in emergency response work but from a different angle. I looked into it, and you’d make an excellent candidate. You’re over eighteen, you have a GED, you’re CPR certified, and you have no criminal record, no felonies—”
Annie’s eyebrows shot up.
Dok smiled. “I mean, you meet the basic requirements.”
“Is it like becoming an EMT? I would think I’d need to take classes.”
“Yes and no.” Dok felt encouraged that Annie hadn’t automatically dismissed the idea. “Once you’re hired, there’s a state-approved training program. It lasts about six to twelve months, but it’s on the job.”
“Would it be difficult for me to get hired?” Annie’s tone was skeptical but curious.
“Not at all,” Dok said firmly. “Your EMT training would give you an edge, and you’re exactly the kind of person who’s needed in emergencies—calm under pressure, quick on your feet. You don’t panic, and you think clearly. Plus, it’s less dangerous work, which might sit better with your mother.”
“Dok, do you think my mother would agree to this?”
“I’m confident she’d be in favor of this over EMT work.”Fairly confident.Sally Fisher had a remarkable capacity for catastrophic thinking.
