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“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “Tell me what you need.”
“You’re doing it,” she says quietly.
“Ambulance is on its way!” Brooklyn says urgently, panic evident in her voice and on her face. “Do I need to tell anyone else? Like, does an airport this size have one of those things that have the paddles? Do they have emergency staff? Is it too soon for that? What do I do?”
Ignoring her plethora of questions, I ask her, “How long did they say the ambulance is out?”
She’s still on the phone with emergency response so she asks them.
“Five minutes!” she shouts, even though she’s standing right next to us. “She says they’ll be here soon and I’m supposed to remain calm.”
I smile at her, hoping to project some of that calmness her way. I might not feel it, but I’m a mom and I know how to handle situations better than her at only fifteen. “Did you hear that, Aunt Dorothy? Five minutes. Just hang on and someone will be here to help you.”
She nods, closing her eyes.
Five minutes feels more like thirty and when I hear the sound of sirens blaring it’s like music to my ears.
“They’re here. Help is coming, just hang with me,” I urge Dorothy then turn to Brooklyn who still looks worried out of her mind. “Greet them, will you? Show them back here.”
She nods rapidly and spins on her heel, running to the door.
Dorothy makes a move to get up but I place a hand on her shoulder. “They’ll come to you. Just wait for them.”
“I can walk.”
I give her a stern look. “It’ll make me feel better if you just stay put, okay?”
“Fine,” she concedes, her body far from relaxed as she winces in pain again.
Moments later, EMTs are running into the restroom, armed with bags.
I step away, letting them do their job and giving them space. Brooklyn stands next to me, looking around with tears in her eyes so I wrap my arms around her and we stand vigilantly as the EMTs take vitals and tell Dorothy they’re going to transport her to the hospital and will do an ECG en route.
Before we know what’s happening, the EMTs are placing Dorothy on a gurney and telling Brooklyn and me we can follow them to the hospital.
Though, our Uber has come and gone so I have to find a new one. “Wait! We don’t have a car. Which hospital are you going to?”
I quickly request a new car and am so grateful that one is only a few minutes away. Likely the one that we ignored earlier because it’s the same type of car.
As they’re loading Dorothy into the back of the ambulance, I step to her side. “We’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”
She nods, an oxygen mask now covering her mouth and nose.
“Love you,” I whisper, kissing her cheek before stepping back so the EMTs can finish and get to the hospital quickly.
I jump when their sirens echo around me and the lights start flashing.
Sirens and lights.
They need all the warning they can get.
Two police cars are ahead of the ambulance. I didn’t even notice them earlier.
Having three emergency vehicles for her transport to the hospital does nothing to calm my or Brooklyn’s nerves. We’re huddled close, Brooklyn crying and me doing my best to hold it together when the Uber pulls up.
We hop in, telling him which hospital we need to go to.
Brooklyn’s typing away on her phone and when she notices me watching she tells me, “Dad. I’m telling him what’s going on so he knows.”
