FWA RPLA Finalist
The following story is true. I entered it into the Florida Writer’s Assoc.’s Royal Palm Literary Awards contest. It is a finalist. I won’t know if it won until the end of the month but I am thrilled it made it that far!
The short story is copyrighted 2010 Mandee Sears
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Something Was Wrong – A Daughter’s Story
Something was wrong, I could feel it. I ran down the short hallway and checked the doorknob to the bathroom. It was locked. I knocked and listened. The shower was in that half on, half off mode, emitting a high pitched hum.
I knocked again; short, frantic raps. “Mom, are you okay?”
No answer. I was pounding on the door now, demanding, “Mom, open the door”.
Nothing. My heart is in my throat; my eyes are darting around for an answer to the locked door. I looked up at the ceiling while silently praying that everything was okay. I saw something resting on the door frame. It was a long pin shaped lock pick. I grabbed it and unlocked the door.
Mom was sitting on the toilet naked. I was relieved that I hadn’t found her lying in the shower having slipped, but something was wrong, she hadn’t turned towards me when I ripped open the door. She was staring straight ahead at the wall.
I moved into her line of vision and yelled “Mom” in her face. She finally turned and looked at me.
“Are you okay?” I said.
She stared at me for a few seconds and then said “Yup” while nodding her head.
I looked into her eyes as she stared at me. Her normally animated eyes were empty. I grabbed her bathrobe from the hook and got her to stand so I could put it on her. I continued to ask her short questions. She always answered, “Yup”, and nodded her head.
I helped her walk to my bedroom and sat her on the queen size bed. She kept looking me in the face but there was no reaction on her part. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing. Her face was scrunched. It looked like her chin could swallow her nose. It was obvious she hadn’t put in her dentures yet.
“Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Do you know who I am?” My barraged of questions continued as did her one word answer, regardless of the question, she would say “Yup”. My son, Brendan, was in the next room sleeping. I decided I should wake him. We were going to have to take her to the ER. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but her lack of reaction made me think of a stroke victim.
God, this was a mess. Brendan, Mom and I were supposed to leave this afternoon. The house was sold, the furnishings donated, given to friends or sold at one of our moving sales. In fact, the only furniture left was my bedroom suite. The lady that bought our house loved it; made me an offer and I sold it along with the house.
It was time to leave this town and the last few months’ pain of losing our business behind and start over. Mom had volunteered to ride, alternately, with Brendan and me as we drove to Florida. It would take 18 hours straight through. She insisted on accompanying us as we each drove our own vehicle. She said talking would keep us alert.
I was staring in the dresser mirror, contemplating what to do first. I knew we probably wouldn’t be leaving today. I couldn’t leave Mom like this. She, Dad and my sisters live two hours from here. I needed to call them but didn’t see any point until I had her to the hospital. I leaned down to tell her I was planning to take her to the Doctor.
Before I got one syllable out, her mouth contorted and released a guttural moan. Her arms shot out in front of her twisting and turning rigidly of their own volition. Her eyes rolled back into their sockets as she threw her head aft. All the muscles in her body had stiffened, almost simultaneously and she was slipping from the bed. I grabbed for her, afraid she would topple and break bones. I put myself between mom and the floor. We slowly sunk to the carpet, mom’s limbs still flailing manically. I need to call 911. My phone was on the other side of the bedroom. I couldn’t get to it with moms weight on top of me. Even if I could free myself, I was afraid to leave her for even a second. I heard my son’s name being screamed. Somewhere in my conscience mind, I realized it was coming from me.
Brendan bolted into the room. I shrieked at him to call 911. His phone was in his hand. While checking to make sure mom was still breathing and had a pulse, I heard him rattle off the details as he knew them.
He hung up and asked “What do I do?” I told him to unlock the front door and watch for the ambulance. Our house was only a mile from the hospital as the crow flies. It would take mere minutes for them to arrive. He bent down next to us, tears cascading from his eyes.
“What’s wrong with her?” he said.
“I don’t know, hand me my phone and then wait for the medics at the front door.”
I wanted to shield him from this. If the worst happened, I didn’t want his last memories of his loving grandma to be marred. It was as if a demon had inhabited her body. She was its’ puppet, had no control of how it manipulated her body. As her tongue made the trip in and out of her mouth she was spewing saliva. Her lips had gone blue. I rammed my fingers in her mouth to ensure she wasn’t choking on her tongue or some foreign object. She continued to emit throaty wails but her mouth was becoming bluer.
I dialed my Uncle’s number. My Aunt was an R.N. and I needed some reassurance. Then I called my friend, Abby. I said “I need you. Something’s happened to mom. The ambulance is on its way.”
She told me she would be there in a minute and hung up.
I heard activity from the hallway and was relieved to see the medics jog into the room. They asked me if she had fallen or if I thought she had broken any bones. I said no. I relinquished my protective hold hesitantly and they lifted her onto my bed. I felt empty in that moment; like a new mothers’ body grieving the loss of the pregnancy. I stood and watched until a third medic came in with a stretcher and banished me from the room.
I walked slowly thru the hallway to the barren living room. Brendan was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. He looked up when he heard me. His face was streaked with tears and I could see the fear in his eyes. I knelt down and we embraced. It was fierce, full of love but apprehension as well.
I heard the screen door open and my Aunt, Uncle and Abby spilled into the house. I released Brendan, straightened up and was ready to address the unasked questions. After my quick explanation of the situation, my Aunt hurried down the hall to the bedroom to see if she could find out anything more.
I took this opportunity to really look at Abby. She was dressed in her baggy pajama pants, t-shirt, her hair in a pony tail, sleep in her eyes and was holding a travel mug undoubtedly filled with General Foods International Coffee, French Vanilla Café. In that moment I knew why she was my best friend. She dropped everything and came running to help me. She didn’t even stop to get a coat and it was about 25 degrees outside.
My aunt came back up the hallway and had the stretcher at her heels. My Uncle held the storm door as they wheeled mom out. She had an IV hooked up to her right arm, an oxygen mask and her eyes were closed. I was frantic at the sight of her pathetic form. My Aunt stopped me from chasing the medics. She said they needed to get her to the hospital in order to determine what had happened. We were to follow in our own vehicles. I grabbed Mom’s purse and then Brendan, Abby and I ran out and jumped in my Blazer parked in the driveway. The ambulance had the drive blocked; I had to wait for it to move before I could back out.
We watched them load her into the back of the ambulance and shut the door. I put the car in reverse and held my foot on the brake while I waited for it to take off. It just sat there. I jammed the heel of my hand into the steering wheel and screamed, “Go”. Nothing happened. It just sat there.
I was watching in my rearview mirror as the back door opened. An EMT I knew crawled out and headed for my driver’s side window. He told me in a professional, emotionless voice that they would not be moving until mom was stable.
I stared at him and repeated “Stable?”
He looked me in the eye and said “Your mother went into cardiac arrest. They are trying to stabilize her before transport.”
I was numb. I threw the gear shift into park. This couldn’t be happening. Last night we were talking about my problems; losing my business, bankruptcy, moving my family a thousand miles away with no jobs on the line. She was helping me accept my situation and move on with a positive outlook. She was my rock. I needed her. These were purely selfish thoughts. How could I be thinking like this while she lay there fighting for her life. I think it was my minds way of not dealing with the possibility hanging in the air: I could lose my Mom.
There was an eerie silence in the Blazer. Brendan and Abby were barely breathing. We all had our sights on the ambulance, willing it to move; meaning they were able to stabilize her. It seemed an eternity but was actually less than 5 minutes, when we all heard the sirens start and watched the ambulance speed away.
I threw the Blazer into reverse and recklessly followed on its tail. We arrived at the hospital in minutes. I watched them unload her and rush her to the awaiting ER staff. Brendan, Abby, my Uncle and Aunt were instructed to go to the waiting room. The Nurse then turned to me and told me to see the admissions staff to fill out some paperwork. I had Mom’s insurance and Medicare cards and her pink, 7 day pill box in her purse. I wasn’t sure what medications she was on but thought the staff could figure it out by looking at the pills. I shoved the pill box at the nurse and went on to admitting. I called my Dad and told him to get his butt over here as soon as he could; mom was in the ER at the local hospital.
I filled the next 2 hours alternately pacing, sitting, and sneaking out to the parking lot for a smoke with Abby. The time passed interminably. I would have lost my mind without Abby, Brendan and my Aunt and Uncle. Finally, my dad, and sisters, Debbie and Heather, pulled into the parking lot in Heather’s white Suburban during one of my smoke breaks. They exploded from the vehicle at the same time. I was bombarded with questions; most for which I had no answers.
We entered the emergency room just as the doctor was coming out of mom’s cubicle. He motioned for us to follow. Like a pack of dogs, we followed the alpha and waited for the news of mom’s condition. I made the cast introductions and then turned the floor over to the doctor.
He told us the CT scan verified mom had not had a stroke. They had determined she suffered an Epileptic seizure. She didn’t have epilepsy, did she? He explained they would treat her with a drug to control seizures and make an appointment with a Neurologist for further testing.
They let us in ER compartment one to see her. She was very pale and I could see the beginnings of bruises on her exposed upper chest area. I leaned over her and whispered “Mom” and she opened her eyes. She stared at me and then smiled. She smiled at me.
I burst out bawling like a child and laid my head on her shoulder. She reached up and stroked my hair.
“I’m alright sweetheart. Don’t cry. I’m here” she said in a weary, exhausted voice.
I was 44 years old and my mother, having just suffered a seizure and cardiac arrest, is comforting me. I was a grown woman with a family but reverted to childhood as I relished her touch and her words; once a mother, always a mother. She was going to be okay. I still had my Mommy. I thanked God.
