“True. This time it’s different, though. We did exceptional work. I can’t wait to see the commercial we walked through airing during next year’s Super Bowl.” Jeremy has a dreamy look on his face; we’ve already lost him to thinking about how he’sgoing to spend their millions and how to finagle more budget from me.
“There’s still a lot to do,” I go on. “Let’s run through the next steps and ensure we’ve dotted every i and crossed every t to get their business.”
As I wait for our project manager to pull up our plan, I grab my phone and realize I haven’t turned off Do Not Disturb. Usually, I do it immediately after we’re done with a pitch. Totally forgot with all the excitement. My stomach drops when my screen floods with missed calls, voicemails, and texts.
Shit.
I rarely have this many notifications unless there’s an emergency for a major client. I glance around the room, noticing no one else seems to have the same sense of dread while looking at their phone or laptop.
Double shit.
This means it must be amajorproblem. Otherwise, the client would’ve reached out to someone else on my team when they didn’t hear from me.
“I need to step out for a few minutes to return some calls. Vanessa, can you continue the meeting?”
She nods and starts discussing action items with the team as I gather my things and leave the room.
Once I’m in my office, I close my door and sit at my desk, hoping this isn’t a client issue that occupies the rest of the day.
The first voicemail is from a number I don’t recognize. It’s not super odd, considering I don’t have the numbers for every client saved in my phone. Probably should figure out a way to make that happen. Maybe we can create a form for clients to fill out…
“Kate Carpenter, this is Southmount Regional Hospital. We’re calling about your mother. Please give us a call back ASAP,” an unfamiliar female voice explains.
Fuck.
My mom?
What’s going on?
That’s when I notice multiple voicemails from the same number.
“Kate Carpenter, this is Southmount Regional Hospital. Your mom was in a car accident. She’s in serious condition. Please give us a call immediately,” the voicemail continues.
Tears immediately well up in my eyes as I begin to panic. My mom and I don’t have the best relationship, but I can’t lose her. She’s the only family I have left.
Hands shaking, I call the hospital, nearly dropping the phone as I answer a litany of questions to get through to the right person. I don’t think the nurse is speed talking, but the words come at me in a jumble, and I only register snippets of what she says.
Multiple internal injuries and broken bones.
Patient became critical.
Needed emergency surgery.
Surgery will take at least a few more hours.
Oh my God.
Does this mean it’s a life-and-death scenario? Tears begin to stream down my face as I attempt to remember everything the nurse tells me.
“I highly recommend you come to the hospital as quickly as possible. I know you live a few hours away,” the nurse says calmly, a hint of sadness in her tone, meaning she likely worked with my mom before she retired from the hospital. “We’ll look after her until you get here.”
Full panic mode commences as I throw everything into my bag and briskly walk out of my office. The all-glass setup makes it impossible to leave without everyone noticing. I’m sure mybeet-red, puffy face and near run will create some questions, but I’ll deal with them later. I don’t have time to explain.
I need to go to my condo and pack.
I need to go home.
I need my mom to survive.
