"911, Can You Wait an Hour?"- Prompt: "Run, Don't Walk" LJ Idol
I've often heard an ambulance is the quickest way to the hospital. Unfortunately, now I know that isn't always true.
I'd only been married eleven months. At 19 years old, you can elope on a whim but, in no time at all, real life hits. After 11 months, I still wasn't pregnant, an absolute disappointment to my 42 year old husband's dreams of having a big family of his own. But he said he loved me, kids or not, that every moment with me, even when I was upset, was better his forty-one lonely years of being single.
I wasn't pregnant and the bills were piling up faster than he could pay them. Not from shopping, just from groceries and rent but his sales jobs weren't producing quickly. I was in college but I also went out to get a job.
Bob finally found a new job that started the same week mine did. The first three days went well for both of us, so we splurged by eating one of our more expensive meals: frozen pizza rather than macaroni and cheese.
"We're both employed. Soon we'll be paid!" he said, toasting me with a glass of Sprite. He told me all about his new job and how much he liked his co-workers. Maybe our life together was finally going to start working out! I gazed into his eyes, dreaming of the life we would have, the babies that would come. I could not wait to experience the future together!
He stopped talking to eat, ate about two bites ... and crumbled to the floor.
"Bob, Bob, what's wrong?" I shouted, running over, grabbing his arm. In my mind I remembered my mother-in-law's words, "His dad had a heart attack at 37" and I was scared my husband was about to have one too.
"Bob, what's wrong? What hurts, what should I do?" He was shivering though the temperature hadn't changed.
"My ... my chest."
My breaths came faster as I watch him shiver on the floor, clutching his chest. Think, Misty, think!
"Do I need to call ...?"
"Yes. 9-1-1." He gasped out. "Misty, the pain ... never felt like this."
Think. Think. Run, not walk to the other room. Grab, dial.
"911, how may I help you?" The voice sounded bored.
"It's my husband. I don't know what's wrong. His heart? He ... he needs the hospital." My voice was shaking but I tried to stay calm.
"Ma'm, can he walk?" the voice was more interested now.
"No, he's ... he can't get up. Oh God, what can I do, oh God! He's ... he could be dying." I wanted to cry. My heart was beating so fast. I know I can't panic. I have to keep Bob alive.
"Just stay calm now. If he can't get up, I need you to give me your address and the best directions you can, OK?" She sounded calm and secure as my life was falling apart. He was my world, crumbled, dying and this stupid phone wasn't cordless, I couldn't even see him.
"I have to check on him, I can't see him." My God, what if he had died alone while I was talking to this impersonal idiot?
"No, ma'm, stay on the phone, at least, your address?"
"812A Native Stream Road. Now, I have to go ok? I have to see him."
"Miss, stay on the phone, I need..." but her voice fades as I lay the receiver on the desk and run back to the kitchen.
"Bob? Bob? I ... I gave them our address. They should come. Bob?"
He is shivering and silent. I am glad of the shivers, glad he is moving at all.
"Misty? Misty? I ... if I don't make it ... "
"Bob, no. You're going to be fine, ok? I promise. Just fine. They will come." I want to grab him to me but am scared of hurting him. What do I do? What do I do? Will he be OK? Why can't I hear the stupid sirens?
"No, listen. If don't make it ... tell, tell Danny he was extra special to me, ok? Tell him, I loved them all but he was ... he was special." His voice fades away as he mentions his nephew.
"I promise to tell Danny but, Bob, listen to me, you are not going to die. I'll ... I'll get you a blanket and they are coming, they said they were coming. You are going to make it."
"Don't leave me." His words come with effort, as though he is gritting his teeth not to scream.
"Oh, Bob. I ... they said I have to give directions. I promise. I'm just on the phone. I'll be right back."
I run, not walk back to the phone.
"Ma'm? You can't lay the phone down like that. I need to talk to you until the ambulance arrives. Don't put it down again. Now, they are having trouble finding you. You said 812A Native Stream Road?" She sounds very irked that I was away from the phone.
"Yes. I ... are they almost here? I ... I don't know what's wrong. We need them! What is taking so long?" I know I sound mad but I'm either going to get angry or cry. Bob needs help! Why won't they come? What if he's dying? Would I ever feel his strong arms around me again?
Forty-five minutes after my call, the ambulance finally arrives. Bob is still shivering. I'm still annoying the 911 operator by running back and forth between our corded phone and my husband on the ground.
It was the first time I rode in an ambulance. They wouldn't let me in the back with Bob, only in the front. I was worried, unable to see Bob's face but, at least someone medical was finally there, finally helping him.
The paramedics seem to think we'd overreacted. They still took us to the hospital but said his heart and other systems seemed just fine.
That night I called and left messages on the machine of both of our new jobs. I was worried: my 4th day of work and I was already taking an unplanned absence. I sure hoped they would both keep us, no doubt we would have some medical bills now.
It wasn't until after some tests the next day that a doctor finally showed some concern. Bob was still sedated but Dr. Smith came to talk to me.
"Mrs. Cobb? Is that right, are you Mrs. Cobb?" He seemed to trying to reconcile my age with that of my husband.
"Yes. Is he ok? Did you learn anything? What's wrong with him, Doctor? Did you finally find something?"
"Mrs. Cobb, I just want you to know ... I'm just glad he's alive. Did you know about his esophageal ulcers?" He looks at me seriously.
"Well, I mean, we knew he had some swallowing problems. Not everyday, but sometimes," I answer.
"Mrs. Cobb, your husband has several ulcers in his esophagus. One of them ... it almost ruptured last night. Do you realize, if it had ruptured ... that can kill a man, kill him very quickly. You're very lucky that didn't happen. He came very, very close last night."
He continues to talk but my mind is on what he already said. Bob ... Bob almost died. Right there on our kitchen floor. I knew Bob was older, I knew that he'd probably go before me but I thought I was decades away from words like these. I didn't realize, even though I knew he might be first to die, how deeply scared I would be in those moments, how desperate to keep him, and how much I would regret it if I never held our child in my arms. I always thought we had decades to build our family. This incident showed me, yet again, that no one truly has tomorrow.
My life changed a lot that week. I learned that, even though Bob preferred it, we do not sleep well smooshed together in a single-sized hospital bed. I learned that my husband's health was more precarious than I had thought and realized how deeply it would hurt to lose him. And I learned that, sometimes, an ambulance doesn't come as quickly as you think you need them. Some moments, there is no one there to help you, no one there to know what the best choice is or the best way to help. Some paths each of us must walk alone.
*All names and addresses, mine included, changed. All details true to life though conversations based on memories*
I'd only been married eleven months. At 19 years old, you can elope on a whim but, in no time at all, real life hits. After 11 months, I still wasn't pregnant, an absolute disappointment to my 42 year old husband's dreams of having a big family of his own. But he said he loved me, kids or not, that every moment with me, even when I was upset, was better his forty-one lonely years of being single.
I wasn't pregnant and the bills were piling up faster than he could pay them. Not from shopping, just from groceries and rent but his sales jobs weren't producing quickly. I was in college but I also went out to get a job.
Bob finally found a new job that started the same week mine did. The first three days went well for both of us, so we splurged by eating one of our more expensive meals: frozen pizza rather than macaroni and cheese.
"We're both employed. Soon we'll be paid!" he said, toasting me with a glass of Sprite. He told me all about his new job and how much he liked his co-workers. Maybe our life together was finally going to start working out! I gazed into his eyes, dreaming of the life we would have, the babies that would come. I could not wait to experience the future together!
He stopped talking to eat, ate about two bites ... and crumbled to the floor.
"Bob, Bob, what's wrong?" I shouted, running over, grabbing his arm. In my mind I remembered my mother-in-law's words, "His dad had a heart attack at 37" and I was scared my husband was about to have one too.
"Bob, what's wrong? What hurts, what should I do?" He was shivering though the temperature hadn't changed.
"My ... my chest."
My breaths came faster as I watch him shiver on the floor, clutching his chest. Think, Misty, think!
"Do I need to call ...?"
"Yes. 9-1-1." He gasped out. "Misty, the pain ... never felt like this."
Think. Think. Run, not walk to the other room. Grab, dial.
"911, how may I help you?" The voice sounded bored.
"It's my husband. I don't know what's wrong. His heart? He ... he needs the hospital." My voice was shaking but I tried to stay calm.
"Ma'm, can he walk?" the voice was more interested now.
"No, he's ... he can't get up. Oh God, what can I do, oh God! He's ... he could be dying." I wanted to cry. My heart was beating so fast. I know I can't panic. I have to keep Bob alive.
"Just stay calm now. If he can't get up, I need you to give me your address and the best directions you can, OK?" She sounded calm and secure as my life was falling apart. He was my world, crumbled, dying and this stupid phone wasn't cordless, I couldn't even see him.
"I have to check on him, I can't see him." My God, what if he had died alone while I was talking to this impersonal idiot?
"No, ma'm, stay on the phone, at least, your address?"
"812A Native Stream Road. Now, I have to go ok? I have to see him."
"Miss, stay on the phone, I need..." but her voice fades as I lay the receiver on the desk and run back to the kitchen.
"Bob? Bob? I ... I gave them our address. They should come. Bob?"
He is shivering and silent. I am glad of the shivers, glad he is moving at all.
"Misty? Misty? I ... if I don't make it ... "
"Bob, no. You're going to be fine, ok? I promise. Just fine. They will come." I want to grab him to me but am scared of hurting him. What do I do? What do I do? Will he be OK? Why can't I hear the stupid sirens?
"No, listen. If don't make it ... tell, tell Danny he was extra special to me, ok? Tell him, I loved them all but he was ... he was special." His voice fades away as he mentions his nephew.
"I promise to tell Danny but, Bob, listen to me, you are not going to die. I'll ... I'll get you a blanket and they are coming, they said they were coming. You are going to make it."
"Don't leave me." His words come with effort, as though he is gritting his teeth not to scream.
"Oh, Bob. I ... they said I have to give directions. I promise. I'm just on the phone. I'll be right back."
I run, not walk back to the phone.
"Ma'm? You can't lay the phone down like that. I need to talk to you until the ambulance arrives. Don't put it down again. Now, they are having trouble finding you. You said 812A Native Stream Road?" She sounds very irked that I was away from the phone.
"Yes. I ... are they almost here? I ... I don't know what's wrong. We need them! What is taking so long?" I know I sound mad but I'm either going to get angry or cry. Bob needs help! Why won't they come? What if he's dying? Would I ever feel his strong arms around me again?
Forty-five minutes after my call, the ambulance finally arrives. Bob is still shivering. I'm still annoying the 911 operator by running back and forth between our corded phone and my husband on the ground.
It was the first time I rode in an ambulance. They wouldn't let me in the back with Bob, only in the front. I was worried, unable to see Bob's face but, at least someone medical was finally there, finally helping him.
The paramedics seem to think we'd overreacted. They still took us to the hospital but said his heart and other systems seemed just fine.
That night I called and left messages on the machine of both of our new jobs. I was worried: my 4th day of work and I was already taking an unplanned absence. I sure hoped they would both keep us, no doubt we would have some medical bills now.
It wasn't until after some tests the next day that a doctor finally showed some concern. Bob was still sedated but Dr. Smith came to talk to me.
"Mrs. Cobb? Is that right, are you Mrs. Cobb?" He seemed to trying to reconcile my age with that of my husband.
"Yes. Is he ok? Did you learn anything? What's wrong with him, Doctor? Did you finally find something?"
"Mrs. Cobb, I just want you to know ... I'm just glad he's alive. Did you know about his esophageal ulcers?" He looks at me seriously.
"Well, I mean, we knew he had some swallowing problems. Not everyday, but sometimes," I answer.
"Mrs. Cobb, your husband has several ulcers in his esophagus. One of them ... it almost ruptured last night. Do you realize, if it had ruptured ... that can kill a man, kill him very quickly. You're very lucky that didn't happen. He came very, very close last night."
He continues to talk but my mind is on what he already said. Bob ... Bob almost died. Right there on our kitchen floor. I knew Bob was older, I knew that he'd probably go before me but I thought I was decades away from words like these. I didn't realize, even though I knew he might be first to die, how deeply scared I would be in those moments, how desperate to keep him, and how much I would regret it if I never held our child in my arms. I always thought we had decades to build our family. This incident showed me, yet again, that no one truly has tomorrow.
My life changed a lot that week. I learned that, even though Bob preferred it, we do not sleep well smooshed together in a single-sized hospital bed. I learned that my husband's health was more precarious than I had thought and realized how deeply it would hurt to lose him. And I learned that, sometimes, an ambulance doesn't come as quickly as you think you need them. Some moments, there is no one there to help you, no one there to know what the best choice is or the best way to help. Some paths each of us must walk alone.
*All names and addresses, mine included, changed. All details true to life though conversations based on memories*