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CHAPTER ONE
Luca
Tap,tap, tap, tap…
My head pops up from where I’ve been mindlessly scrolling through social media to find a middle-aged woman drumming her acrylic nails on the registration countertop in a staccato rhythm. Wearing an expensive suit jacket and matching pants with a Coach bag slung over her shoulder, she looks as if she’s about to head into a business meeting.
“This is ridiculous. How much longer do I have to sit here waiting to be seen?”
“I’m sorry for your wait. It’s been an even busier day than normal due to the number of ambulances we’ve received,” the pretty redhead behind the desk answers. “There are some really sick patients here today.”
“Well, that’s not my problem. You people need to manage this ER better. It’s always like this when I come here.” She huffs.
How often does she come to this ER to know that?
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We never know what the volume will be from one day to the next in an emergency room. We try to dothe very best we can. But as I explained earlier, I can’t promise the provider on duty will refill your medication. Only that they’ll evaluate you. You might want to contact your primary care physician and see if they can refill your prescription while you wait.” As she finishes her statement, the fair-skinned beauty leans back in her chair wearing an apprehensive expression, as if she’s bracing for a fight.
“Whatever. I guess next time I’ll have to call 911 instead of driving here if I want to get better service than this.”
The words have barely left her mouth before the triage room door swings open and a patient is escorted out to the waiting area. An EMS stretcher is visible on the other side of the small space.
“Why am I coming out here and not going to a bed?” the woman barks.
I observe the slightest shake of the triage nurse’s head as she replies, “Because we have to bring back the sickest patients first. Some of these nice people out here have been waiting a long time. We’ll call you back as soon as we can.”
“But my tooth hurts, and my dentist can’t see me until tomorrow.”
For real?
“I’m sorry. We have a lot of really sick folks here today, Bertha. You don’t have any of the numbing medicine left we provided when you were here the other day?”
“Oh. I forgot about that stuff.”
Good grief.This place is a circus. I scan the room to see the place fully occupied by ill or injured, young and old. At least it’s reassuring to hear they’re trying to bring people back from the waiting area and not just seeing patients who arrive by ambulance. I have to admit I was starting to wonder if they forgot about the wall-to-wall patients out here after the first hour went by and hardly anyone moved.
The triage nurse has barely deposited Bertha into a seat before she’s sprinting over to grab a wheelchair. I track her movements as she steers the chair to the entryway doors like Danica Patrick in an IndyCar race. As I shift in this hard, uncomfortable chair, looking over my shoulder, my eyes land on a very pregnant young woman who’s bent forward, clutching her belly. From this angle, her skin seems pale and clammy. But by the looks of it, the man standing next to her may be sweating harder than she is.
“We just need to get your vital signs and call upstairs to labor and delivery,” the triage nurse reassures as she assists her into the wheelchair.
“Please, hurry,” the mom-to-be begs. “She’s coming quickly.”
“Does your Ob know you’re here?”
“He’s in Maryland.” She groans. “We thought we had a few more days.”
Slumping back in my seat, I contemplate whether I should… “Fuck!” I bite down on my lip and press the heel of my hand into my lower abdomen as the sharp stabbing pain from earlier returns.
“Awwww.” Looking to my right, I find a rambunctious little boy two chairs down grinning as his mother covers his ears.
“Sorry.” I wince.
She shakes her head at me, likely as annoyed at my outburst as she is at having to sit here for so long with a squirmy young child.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Peering down at my phone, Antonia’s face smiles back at me. I’m suddenly transported to days gone by, feeling a bit forlorn remembering how long ago this picture was taken. She was still a glowing, fresh-faced teenager dreaming about her future. The continued vibration against my palm jolts me back to the present. I hurriedly swipe, worried something could be wrong.
“Sorellina, you okay?”
