Fright Night

Glancing to my right I saw the medic begin the decent down the narrow stairway of the eighty-plus year old house holding on to the head end of the stretcher that bore my wife. The chief medical officer of the team was giving me directions to the hospital where they were taking her. I was only half-listening to him, my attention split by the sounds of the other team members in the stairway. By the time he got to the fourth turn in the directions I knew I would not remember them. I grabbed a small notepad and pen we kept by the bed for my wife to write her “wish list” grocery items on. I tried to write as legibly as possible and started to read them back to him. When I got to the freeway exit number, he interrupted and said there large signs marking the hospital route from there. Confident I could find it we headed to the stairs. Before I could reach the top step another rescue team member tapped my shoulder from behind and held out his open palm displaying my wife’s wedding band. Remembering an earlier exchange I had with them about her Life Alert Bracelet and them suggesting I hang on to it for safe keeping, I took the ring and placed it in my pocket and thanked him.
As I watched the ambulance pull out of the driveway, I walked the to the other side our circular drive where the firetruck was and let the driver know there was room to turn around in the field at the far end of the straight part of the drive so he wouldn’t have to risk backing out onto our narrow country road. Sensing his hesitation, I re-assured him that the ground was solid since a few years earlier the timber harvesters had used it as a “staging area” and if the logging trucks didn’t get stuck neither would he. He thanked me as I headed back to the house.
I had put the dogs in the fenced back yard before the rescue team arrived and propped the porch door and front door open to make quick, easy access for the team while I waited upstairs with my wife. I closed the doors and turned out the porch light as I made my way to the back door to let the dogs back in. Once we were in the kitchen I began trying calm them down. Letting them know that despite the sudden flurry of human activity (by strangers, no less) and all of the bright, flashing lights that everything was going to be all right. My mind was racing through a checklist of things I needed to do before heading to the hospital as I filled their water bowl.
Not knowing how long I would be gone, they would need access to the outside. Being a chilly night, I lowered the thermostat settings to save fuel and yet keep water-pipes (and dogs) from freezing. Upstairs, I ditched my slippers and put my shoes on. I grabbed a duffle bag for my wife’s pajamas, robe and slippers she would need for the (hopeful) ride home. Back downstairs I went about the tasks of turning thing off that needed to be off (lights, coffee maker, computer, etc.) and turning thing on that needed to be on (ceiling fans, outside lights, etc.). I tried to do this as calmly and methodically as possibly so as not to get the dogs anxious again, even though inside my brain and emotions were running at breakneck speed. After securing the house, grabbing the directions note, the dufflebag, my cell phone, the file with my wife’s medical history and letting the dogs know I would be back, I was relieved when I started the car to see it had enough gas to make the 45 minute drive to the hospital.
While still on our old country road headed toward the main highway, the review of the checklist kept spinning in my head. Once on the main road I forced myself to focus only on the main objective… to arrive at the hospital as quickly and safely as possible. Still after going through the small local town and navigating the twisting road to the freeway, my brain insisted on replaying the events that to this point. Earlier in the evening when I took her dinner up to her and tried to wake her. She very groggily said (with slurred speech) that she had already eaten and her stomach was too full. She lost consciousness again and I tried reviving her while on the phone with Emergency Services. She was semi-conscious when they arrived, but had trouble concentrating and responding to simple questions. This meant a hospital trip.
By the time I got to the hospital, they had already started the admissions process because ER Doctor had diagnosed her with pneumonia and a UTI. They needed to monitor her for “a few days” and run more tests to make sure Sepsis did not set in. On the way home alone at 2:00 a.m. listening to the radio’s hourly news report, they mentioned it was the first day of November and the election was only eight days away. I tried to cheer myself up by cynically thinking,”How appropriate… Happy Halloween.”