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“Don’t worry, Mrs. Marchiano,” soothed the doctor. “Based on the symptoms you described, I called for a private ambulance to meet me here, just as a precaution.”
“Too much stress lately,” gasped Lorenzo. “Too much talk…about Rita. Too much worry about…kids…”
My heart plummeted as I heard Lorenzo’s words. “Is he having a heart attack, doctor?” I felt so helpless as I stood there.
“The ambulance has pulled up outside,” declared Adelina, standing at the doorway and wringing her hands.
“We need to ease your breathing first, Lorenzo,” the doctor instructed in a calm voice. “He used his cell to call the paramedics in the ambulance. “Bring in your portable nebulizer please.”
A minute later, two paramedics hurried in with some equipment, and they and the doctor quickly hooked up Lorenzo to it, fixing a face mask over his mouth and nose.
“Just take slow, deep breaths,” advised the doctor. “This should hopefully allow you to get your breath back.”
“What’s happening to him, doctor? He seemed fine yesterday and when he got up this morning.” I was used to seeing Lorenzo strong and full of energy, not weak and struggling to breathe.
“We’ll take him to the private clinic. That’s where I usually treat more serious cases.”
“Doesn’t he need the hospital?” I protested.
Lorenzo grabbed at his face mask and pulled it away from his nose and mouth. “No hospital!”
“You need to keep that on, Lorenzo.” The doctor turned to me. “Mrs. Marchiano, the clinic has just about everything we could potentially need. The paramedics will take him straight there, and I will stay with him in the ambulance. You should follow in another vehicle. Lorenzo’s men will know where to take you.”
“I can walk,” Lorenzo gritted out when the paramedics wheeled in a gurney. He argued with the doctor until they compromised on Lorenzo being taken to the ambulance in a wheelchair. And he’d only given into that suggestion because his breathing was still labored, although it seemed a bit better than before.
I kissed Lorenzo on the mouth before the paramedics closed the rear doors to the ambulance.
After the ambulance had left, I grabbed my purse. Giuseppe was already behind the wheel of a vehicle, waiting to drive me to the clinic.
“Do you know where to go?” My words came out in a rush.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As he sped down the road, I willed my racing pulse to slow down.
Lorenzo had seemed to be breathing better when he’d got up to leave, and he’d taken the couple of steps from the couch to the wheelchair by himself. That had to be a good sign, right?
LORENZO
On the way to the clinic, the doctor asked me a whole raft of questions, instructing me not to speak and instead to nod or shake my head in response. I still had the mask over my nose and mouth, and he told me not to remove it.
Once we got to the clinic, the doctor immediately did an ECG on me.
“Good news, Lorenzo,” he said afterward. “There are no signs that you have suffered a heart attack.”
“Are you sure?” I was incredulous. “It sure felt like I could be having one.”
The doctor asked me more questions, asking where I’d visited lately, who had come to my mansion, if I’d met any new people, and if I’d changed any brand of medication.
He got the nurse to prepare for more tests and asked me to lie on my stomach. He disinfected a section of skin on my back and proceeded to prick me with needles.
“You may have had a reaction to something,” he explained. “We need to rule that out.”
“I’m not allergic to anything, so you won’t find anything there. What will you check once you’ve ruled that out? What do you think is causing this?” Now that I was breathing easier, I was feeling a sense of frustration and impatience. I didn’t like my men seeing me weak, and that’s exactly what I’d looked like when I’d been taken out to the ambulance in a wheelchair.
“Let’s just take one step at a time, Lorenzo.”
After a few minutes, the doctor said I could sit up. “I’ve solved the mystery. It was an allergic reaction.”
