"Ugh," she muttered, rinsing her mouth with water to clear the conflicting flavors. "That is not a taste combination anyone needs."
Mandy crawled back into bed, her body already aching more than before. Mozart and Bach settled against her, their warmth usually comforting but now adding to her growing discomfort. She tossed and turned, pushing off blankets only to grab them again as chills wracked her body.
By morning, her head pounded and her skin burned. The thermometer confirmed what she already knew - her temperature was well over a hundred. She fumbled with the aspirin bottle, managing to swallow two more tablets with shaking hands.
The morning dragged into afternoon, each hour bringing worse symptoms. A deep, wracking cough tore through her chest, leaving her gasping. Her fever climbed despite the medication, and familiar dread settled in her stomach. She recognized these signs all too well.
Memories of her bout with pneumonia when Sabrina was small flashed through her mind. Ever since then, even minor colds had a nasty habit of settling in her lungs, usually developing into bronchitis. This felt very much like that - worse, pneumonia was always a legitimate worry.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. The room spun slightly, and she knew she was in no condition to drive herself to the ER. Pride warred briefly with common sense before another coughing fit made the decision for her.
With unsteady fingers, she dialed 911, hating the necessity but knowing she had no choice.
This trip to the emergency room was nothing like last time. No endless waiting, no lying forgotten on a gurney in a hallway. Instead, nurses whisked her directly into a private treatment area, their movements quick and purposeful.
"We're going to start an IV," a nurse in blue scrubs explained, efficiently wrapping a tourniquet around Mandy's arm. The needle stick barely registered through her fever haze.
Cool fluid flowed into her veins as another nurse attached monitors. Numbers flashed on screens, accompanied by steady beeping. The tightness in her chest made each breath a struggle.
"Oxygen saturation's low," someone announced. Clear tubing settled against her nose, delivering blessed oxygen that made breathing slightly easier.
A doctor in a white coat appeared, ordering chest x-rays and blood work. Everything moved in a blur of activity - being wheeled to radiology, more blood draws, vital sign checks. Her oxygen tubing had been replaced with a face mask, but they'd had to go back to the tubing, because of the violent fits of coughing that racked her.
Through the fever fog, Mandy noticed the increasing layers of protective equipment the staff donned.The doctor returned, now wearing not just a face mask, but one of those plastic face shields.
"Mrs. Dupont," he said, his voice muffled behind his mask, "I'm afraid you've tested positive for COVID-19."
The words hit like a physical blow. After all these years of careful precautions, masks, social distancing, and vaccine boosters, the virus had finally found her. And it was an almost guaranteed death sentence, given her history with pneumonia, and her age. She'd always known that, always been careful.
Through the fever haze, Mandy fumbled with her phone, squinting at the too-bright screen. She had to call Mrs. Rodriguez about the cats. The thought of Bach and Mozart alonein her apartment made her chest tighten even more than the COVID already had. Her neighbor had cared for her cats last Christmas when she'd gone to see Sabrina in Washington. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts.
"Mrs. Rodriguez? I'm in the hospital," Mandy croaked, her voice barely recognizable. "Could you...the cats..."
"Oh, mi cielo! Of course, I'll take care of your babies," Mrs. Rodriguez's warm voice came through clearly. "I still have the key from last Christmas. Don't worry about anything."
Relief flooded through Mandy as she let the phone fall from her hand. At least Bach and Mozart would be cared for. The room spun lazily around her as a nurse adjusted something on her IV.
Through the fever haze, a crucial thought penetrated Mandy's clouded mind. Kieran! And Jacinth! Her hand flew to her throat, fingers searching for the familiar warmth of the pendant.
Nothing.
Pure panic shot through her, temporarily overwhelming even the burning in her lungs. The pendant - where was it? She couldn't lose it, couldn't lose her connection to...
"My necklace," she gasped, grabbing at the nearest nurse's sleeve. "Please, where...?"
The nurse - Sara, according to her name tag - patted Mandy's hand reassuringly. "We had to remove it for the chest x-ray, remember? Don't worry, it's safe in your purse in the bedside drawer."
Mandy's eyes darted to the small drawer built into the hospital nightstand. The panic receded slightly, but her heart still raced. She needed that pendant. Needed to let them know...
"Can I..." she wheezed, gesturing weakly at the drawer.
Sarah opened it, revealing Mandy's familiar purple purse. "Your necklace is right in here. We'll keep it safe until you're feeling better, okay?"
Mandy nodded, though her fingers itched to reach for the pendant. Just knowing it was close helped calm her racing thoughts somewhat. At least she hadn't lost her connection to Kieran and Jacinth. Though right now, she wasn't sure she had the strength to summon either of them, even if she'd been wearing it.
"We're increasing your oxygen," someone said from behind layers of PPE. "And adding some medication to help with the fever and cough."
Mandy nodded, or tried to. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Cool liquid rushed through her veins, but the fire burning through her body didn't diminish. She couldn't remember ever feeling this exhausted, this drained.
