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The alarm rang for a medical only call, and we tossed the controllers on the couch. The conversation continued as we moved toward the garage.
“I guess that makes sense,” Bryce admitted. “You guys go. I’ll stay here, in case there is another call.”
Matteo followed me out to the garage. “I don’t know, that all sounds pretty much the same to me, dude.”
“That’s because you have the emotional range of a rock,” I replied to Matteo with a laugh.
He laughed as we climbed into the ambulance and headed off. The call was at the QuikStop, only a couple of blocks away. We’d be there less than five minutes after someone made the call, which was practically a miracle in a rural fire district like ours.
There were only a few cars in the parking lot, and I didn’t see anything out by the pumps.
“Must be inside. Pull through right past the door, in case we need a bed.”
I grabbed the first responder bag and marched inside without waiting for Matteo. I knew he’d be behind me in a matter of seconds.
“She’s over here!” I heard the panicked call of a young man from the back of the store as my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the convenience store.
“I’m fine, seriously. Please don’t call anyone.”
Oh boy. I knew that voice.
“Too late,” I said as I rounded the corner, ignoring the bag of chips I knocked from the display. “We’re already here.”
Monica groaned. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the beverage cooler on the edge of the store. “I told him not to call you.”
Of course, she did. Stubborn, independent, wonderful woman.
I checked her pulse while I asked the young man what happened.
She started to talk instead. “It was nothing. I was–”
“Monica.”
I said her name in a firm but gentle tone and she pressed her lips closed. With anyone else, I would have probably shushed them or ignored them. But I needed her to know that I wasn’t ignoring her or dismissing her. I did, however, need to understand why someone had felt the need to call 911 for her.
I turned back to the clerk for a moment. “Tell me,” I said, before turning quickly back to Monica and evaluating her.
“I was watching her in the mirrors, and she just sort of started acting funny. She leaned against the glass and then sort of slumped against it until she was sitting on the floor. I tried getting her attention, but she didn’t answer. I ran over and she didn’t respond right away, so I called 911.”
“How long was she out?”
“I don’t know, man. Not very long. She started talking while I was still on the phone.”
I checked the reading of her oxygen levels. All clear. “Okay, Monica. Tell me what happened.” I started taking her blood pressure.
“I just got a little woozy and lightheaded after I leaned down to get the milk from the bottom shelf, that’s all.”
I saw the gallon of milk laying off to the side, against the front of a cooler.
“Okay, so you started to feel a little woozy. Then what?” I called out her blood pressure to Matteo, who had arrived at my side a few moments earlier. It was a little low, but not concerningly.
“I leaned on the wall and tried to breathe. Everything started to fade out, so I sat down. The next thing I know, Marcus over there is on the phone with 911.”
“And are you feeling dizzy now?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Just a little weak.”
“I’m pretty sure we can assume this is connected to your recent concussion, but I’m going to check your blood sugar, just to be sure, okay?”
