Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,3
a medical emergency.
“She’s bad,” Abby said quickly. “I’m taking her to the Emergency Room.”
“I’ll get her into the car while you get dressed,” Justin said, sitting down next to Kathy on the bed.
Abby pulled on a pair of old gray sweats and a dark t-shirt, not bothering to see which shirt it was. She slipped into flip flops and a jacket and grabbed her purse on her way out the kitchen door. It was good that Sara and Audrey hadn’t woken up, she thought. They would have been scared to see their mother in such distress.
She had practiced driving to Benedict Hospital to prepare herself for the first trip, but Abby’s eyes strained to find the right route in the darkness. The rasp of her mother’s labored breathing unnerved Abby as she drove.
“We’ll be there soon, Mom,” she said soothingly. “Just hang in there.”
Abby sighed with relief when she saw the glow of the red lights outlining the name of the hospital’s emergency room. She pulled up near the front door and ran around to help Kathy out.
The clusters of people in the waiting room were quiet, most of them focused on a late-night talk show on a television suspended from the ceiling.
“She has a chronic breathing disorder and needs help right away,” Abby said to the woman at the front desk.
“Have you been here before?”
“No.”
“You’ll need to fill this out, front and back of all pages…”
“She can’t breathe! I’ll fill out the paperwork, but she needs to see someone now!”
The woman looked skeptical as she eyed Kathy.
“I’ll bring a wheelchair for her,” a young nurse said, sticking her head around the corner.
“Thank you,” Abby said, relieved.
She started the paperwork as the nurse examined her mother in a curtained room. Abby’s eyes were drawn to the measurement from the pulse oximeter. She knew what the numbers meant after dozens of trips to doctors and hospitals with her mother.
“That’s low,” she said to herself.
“I’ll start her on some oxygen, that should help,” the nurse said, giving Abby a reassuring smile.
Abby glanced at her mother, distracted, and the pen she was using clattered to the linoleum floor. She went down to retrieve it from beneath the bed and saw a pair of gray tennis shoes come through the doorway.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Reneau,” a deep voice said. Abby stood and stifled a gasp as she found herself face to face with the blond man who had declined a dance from her Friday night.
Her mother tried to greet him, but could only manage a choked exhale.
“Kathy,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t try to talk right now. Let’s see what’s going on with you.”
He pressed a stethoscope to her back and listened. Abby popped up from her spot near the floor, slinking into a chair and wishing she could be invisible.
“Hi,” Dr. Reneau said in her direction. “Are you Kathy’s daughter?”
“Yes,” Abby said, her voice high. She could feel the warmth in her face as she flushed with embarrassment. If he recognized her, he showed no sign of it.
He pulled the stethoscope away, letting it drop absently to his chest. As he eyed her mother’s chart, Abby prayed silently that he wouldn’t recognize her.
“Your lung function is impaired,” he said, meeting Kathy’s eyes. “I’m going to have someone from Respiratory give you some tests and treatment, okay?”
Kathy nodded, but Abby saw fear in her mother’s eyes, and she jumped from the chair to stand next to her.
“They’re going to help you, Mom. It’s okay,” she said soothingly, rubbing her mother’s back. Kathy dragged in a breath and looked at her daughter, tears shining in her eyes.
“Would you like something to help you relax?” Dr. Reneau asked gently. Kathy nodded as she reached a finger up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. It pained Abby to see her mother scared. She knew the situation was bad, because normally Kathy was not quiet and compliant.
Chris ducked out of the way as a crew of paramedics hustled a rolling bed down the hallway.
“Dr. Reneau!” a nurse called from her station. “Your x-rays and labs are back on seven.”
“Thanks,” he said, typing into the tablet he carried. “I need meds administered in three, here’s the order.”
“Hey, Chris,” a low voice called conspiratorially. Chris turned to see Reed Stern, his friend and fellow doctor, peeking at him from around the corner. He looked rushed, his dark hair askew. “Crazy Kelly’s looking for you.”
“Christ,” Chris muttered, shaking his head. He was beginning to