At noon on Saturday, after Dok finished with patients and was ready to close the office, she told Annie she wanted to give her a ride home. “I want to see for myself how motion affects you.”
Annie blanched.
“How about if I promise to not go over the speed limit?”
Annie winced. “How about even slower?”
“We need to go a little faster than a buggy, Annie. Conditioning could be the answer.”
Clearly, Annie didn’t share her optimism, but Dok had a theory that Annie was suffering from panic attacks, probably brought on from her childhood bus trip. If so, she was confident that slow and steady conditioning was the best way to overcome run-of-the-mill motion sickness.
A few minutes later, in the car, Dok glanced over at Annie, who was buckled in the passenger seat, looking a bit pale but determined. “All right, Annie, today we’re going to start the process to get a handle on this.”
Annie nodded nervously.
Dok’s eyes flicked to Annie’s hands—trembling. If this was a panic attack, the anticipation was the worst part. The symptoms might feel all too real, but they could be managed. She felt a glimmer of hope. “Concentrate on something else, Annie. Anything that makes you happy. Like, how good it’s going to feel when you pass that EMT exam.”
Annie gave her a weak smile.
Dok started off slowly. For the first few minutes, as she eased down the lane and stopped at a sign, Annie seemed to be holding it together. Left at the stop sign, right at the old gray barn—so far, so good. But as soon as Dok turned onto a road that stretched out in front of them, she picked up speed and saw the color drain right out of Annie’s face. With every sideways glance, Dok noticed something new—sweat beading on her forehead, her hands shaking even more. The change was as swift as the road opening up before them. That brief acceleration had triggered Annie’s discomfort.
Dok slowed the car way, way down. “Annie, you okay?”
Annie moaned softly, clutching her stomach. “It’s really bad.”
“Let’s try some breathing exercises. Deep breaths, in and out.” She took a loud breath in and blew it out. “In, out.”
“Please, Dok, I’ve tried breathing.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Don’t close your eyes, Annie. Focus on a spot on the horizon.”
“Dok, please, I’ve tried that too. I can’t ... I can’t do this,” Annie pleaded, her voice trembling. “Stop the car. Please!”
Dok swerved to the side of the road and slammed to a stop. Annie barely waited for the car to halt before she bolted out, rushing to the grass, her head dropping between her knees as she retched everything in her stomach.
Dok quickly followed, coming around to where Annie was hunched over, gulping in deep breaths of fresh air. She placed a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder, offering feeble silent support. It took a very long time before Annie’s breathing calmed, the blood finally returning to her face, bringing a hint of color with it. An unsettlingly long time.
At last, Annie managed to sit up. Dok handed her some tissues, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, then covered her face with her hands. “How can I ever be an EMT,” she whispered, her voice filled with frustration, “when I can’t even stay upright in a moving car?”
Dok put an arm around her shoulders. “I know it seems hopeless right now, but we’ll keep looking for a solution. Don’t give up yet. I’ll do more research on this and see if there are other treatments we can try.”
Annie managed a weak smile. “I’ll just get my scooter from your car and head home.”
Dok helped get the scooter out of the back of the car and watched Annie head down the road. The sight made her sad. Annie’s chin was tucked and she scootered slowly, as if defeated.
After this brief car ride, Dok’s optimism was fading. Over the years, she’d seen a few cases of severe motion sickness and they were always linked to an inner ear imbalance. Tough to treat, often persistent.
Her heart sank. This was no ordinary run-of-the-mill motion sickness.
It was kind of Dok to say “we” when, in reality, Annie was the one who had just been throwing up on the side of the road. As she scootered along toward home, keeping her pace slow—mostly because she still felt queasy—she tried to stave off a creeping sense of despair. She was convinced God had called her to be an EMT. That belief had carried her this far, and she had to trust he wouldn’t let her down now. Not when she was so close.
As she passed the Jacob Zook farm, she thought of Clara. If she weren’t still feeling so woozy, she might’ve popped in to check on her. Hopefully, Dok had remembered to call and see if Clara’s mastitis had cleared up. Annie had seen the Post-it note Dok left on her desk to remind herself, but that didn’t always mean she got to it. It would’ve been best if Dok had asked Annie to make the call—at least then it would’ve gotten done. Annie handled most of the patient reminder calls. A lot of patients skipped their rechecks, trying to dodge a second doctor’s fee.
She slowed as she neared the Zook driveway, feeling a pinch of guilt about Clara—who seemed to ask so little of anyone—and debated whether she should stop in. But then she heard the ear-piercing wails of Clara’s babies—loud enough to reach her down on the road—and quickly decided against it.
Nope, she just couldn’t handle those babies today. In fact, she could barely manage keeping the scooter in a straight line as she wobbled her way down the road.
Evie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smudging away tears as she bent down to try and reach a hand into a nestto collect eggs for Fern. An ornery hen kept eyeing her, feathers fluffed like she was gearing up for a fight.
