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I’d missed lunch.
I grabbed my phone, wincing at the sight of all the missed alarms. I hadn’t realized I’d put my phone on vibrate.
I pushed myself off the bed and then quickly pressed my hand to the wall. I just had to make it to the kitchen. I could grab a juice and make myself something to eat when I got in there. Everything would be okay.
I maneuvered myself out into the hall and then slumped against the wall, too weak to go any further. My vision was blurring, and my hands were shaking too badly, my legs threatening to give out on me.
I allowed myself to slide down the wall and managed to unlock my phone, pressing Tripp’s name in my emergency contacts. I needed help, and I wouldn’t waste the last bit of energy I had trying to get to the kitchen. I shut my eyes, darkness threatening to pull me under.
“Ever?” Tripp asked in surprise. My heart skipped a beat at the nickname. A small smile curved my lips. At least I had that to cling to before I passed out–something happy to ward off the terror I was feeling. Because passing out was really bad.
“Help,” I slurred right before my world went dark.
Tripp
“Help.”
Her words were slurred. I cursed. “Ever!” I shouted, but there was nothing. I heard her phone clatter to the floor. “Ever!” I called again as I rushed toward Brewer. I was a good mile from the house, working on a fence line. I was too damn far from her, but I was closer than my brothers, who were even further down the field.
I quickly got on Brewer’s back and spurred him toward the house. We crossed the distance in record time. I didn’t even bother giving Brewer the command to stay before I dismounted him. My boots thumped across the back porch as I rushed into the house, the door slamming against the wall.
Everlee was slumped on the floor in the hallway, her eyes shut. Her body was shaking badly, and she was drooling all over herself, her face extremely pale.
“Oh, no. No, Ever!” I shouted, rushing toward her. I quickly sat her up a little so she wouldn’t choke on her saliva, panicking as I dialed 9-1-1. I was terrified to move her any more than I already had while she was seizing.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“My wife is having a seizure. She’s passed out. She’s a type one diabetic,” I rushed out. My hands shook as I cradled her damp face, my heart knocking hard against my breastbone.
“Your address, sir?”
I quickly rattled it off to the operator, my chest tightening. Her shaking was easing some, but she was still jerking a little in my arms. Drool had soaked into the collar of her shirt, and she was so pale. Too pale.
“Help is on the way, sir. They’re not far from you. What’s the patient’s age?”
“Twenty-three,” I told her, basically on autopilot at this point.
“Medications?”
“Just the insulin pump.”
“Can you test her blood sugar and tell me what her blood sugar level is?” she asked next.
I reluctantly let my wife go, gently easing her onto the hardwood floor, and rushed into the living room, grabbing her sugar monitor. I managed to work quickly, and within a minute, I was shakily rattling off a number so low, even the operator paused for a moment.
Do not vomit, Tripp, I scolded myself. I didn’t have time for that.
Her sugar level was a fifteen. It was way too low. She could very well be on the verge of a diabetic coma. I should’ve called her. Made sure she ate lunch. Checked on her. There was so much I should have done, could have done, to prevent this.
“Sir, do you have a glucagon shot?” the operator asked me next.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember if one had been prescribed to her. “Yes,” I finally recalled out loud. It was in her room in the top nightstand drawer. Dr. Turner had prescribed it for her during her first appointment due to her history of passing out.
“Sir, I need you to administer that shot into her thigh immediately. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I rushed to her room and grabbed the shot from her nightstand drawer, not even bothering to close it back. As soon as I was kneeling beside her again, I administered the shot. “It’s done,” I told the operator.
I answered a few more questions she had for me before she told me the ambulance was nearly here. A moment later, I heard the sirens as the ambulance made its way up to the ranch. I gently eased Everlee’s unconscious form back down to the floor before rushing to the front door, swinging it open, letting the operator know that help was here and ending the call.
