Chapter 2 — The Question No One Expected
Chapter 2 — The Question No One Expected
The emergency room doors flew open before I could process the noise around me.
Bright white lights passed above my head in a blur.
Nurses surrounded the stretcher.
Someone cut the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
Someone else placed cold adhesive pads across my chest.
A doctor leaned over me with a serious expression.
“Emma, can you hear me?”
I blinked once.
That was all I could manage.
My chest rose in short, uneven movements.
The oxygen mask pressed tightly against my face.
Every breath made a faint plastic hiss.
“Her saturation is seventy-nine,” a nurse said.
“Still dropping,” another answered.
The doctor looked toward the respiratory therapist.
“High-flow nasal cannula.”
The female paramedic quickly gave her report.
“She became unresponsive for several seconds in transit.”
“Pulse was weak.”
“No known medical history reported by family.”
My mother stood just outside the treatment area.
A nurse held one arm across the doorway to keep her back.
“What are you doing to her?” Mom asked.
“We’re trying to stabilize her,” the nurse replied.
“I need to be with my daughter.”
“You can come in when the doctor says it’s safe.”
Mom’s face twisted with panic.
“She’s afraid of hospitals.”
The nurse glanced toward me.
“She may not be fully aware of where she is right now.”
My mother stopped talking.
The doctor lifted my chin slightly.
“Emma, I need you to take a slow breath.”
I tried.
A sharp pain spread beneath my ribs.
My body jerked.
The monitor beside me began beeping faster.
“She’s tiring out,” the respiratory therapist said.
The doctor nodded.
“Prepare for possible intubation.”
My mother heard that.
“What does that mean?”
No one answered her immediately.
She pushed toward the doorway.
“What does that mean?”
The nurse turned to her.
“It means they may need to place a breathing tube.”
Mom’s face went completely still.
“No.”
Her voice came out weak.
“No, she doesn’t need that.”
The doctor looked over his shoulder.
“Ma’am, we need room.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“And we are trying to keep her breathing.”
The firmness in his voice stopped her.
Daniel appeared behind her.
He had arrived so quickly that he was still wearing the same worried expression from the kitchen.
He placed both hands on Mom’s shoulders.
“Let them work.”
She turned toward him.
“They said they might put a tube in her throat.”
Daniel looked at me through the open doorway.
His jaw tightened.
“If that’s what keeps her alive, let them do it.”
My mother flinched.
The word alive hung in the air.
No one tried to soften it.
Inside the room, another nurse drew blood from my arm.
A technician connected a portable machine near the bed.
The doctor looked down at me again.
“Emma, do you have asthma?”
I shook my head slightly.
“Any allergies?”
I tried to answer.
The only sound that came out was a rough whisper.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you taken any medication today?”
I closed my eyes.
My thoughts moved slowly.
Medication.
Food.
Something I drank.
Something I touched.
I tried to remember dinner.
Mashed potatoes.
Gravy.
Chicken.
The pie Uncle Ray brought.
Then another memory surfaced.
A small white bottle in the bathroom cabinet.
I opened my eyes.
The doctor noticed.
“What is it?”
I tried to speak again.
“My vitamins.”
He leaned closer.
“What about them?”
I swallowed with difficulty.
“They looked different.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed.
“Different how?”
I coughed beneath the mask.
A nurse steadied my shoulder.
“They were... bigger.”
My mother heard me from the doorway.
“What vitamins?”
The doctor turned toward her.
“You said she takes no medication.”
“She doesn’t.”
“I take iron,” I whispered.
Mom stared at me.
“Since when?”
“For months.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You didn’t know?”
“She never told me.”
I wanted to laugh.
The sound never came.
I had told her.
Twice.
Once after I nearly fainted at school.
Once after the clinic called to say my blood work showed I was severely anemic.
She had been busy both times.
Or maybe she had simply decided it wasn’t important.
The doctor looked at the nurse.
“Order toxicology.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Toxicology?”
“We need to rule out an accidental ingestion.”
Her face changed.
“You think she took something?”
“I think we need answers.”
“She would never take drugs.”
“No one said she did.”
The doctor’s tone remained controlled.
“But something is causing severe respiratory failure.”
A nurse approached my mother with a clipboard.
“Does Emma have any history of panic attacks?”
My mother hesitated.
“Yes.”
Daniel immediately looked at her.
“She had one last year.”
“She’s dramatic,” Mom said.
The nurse did not react.
“How was it diagnosed?”
Mom looked confused.
“What?”
“Was she evaluated by a doctor?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it was a panic attack?”
The question silenced her.
Daniel stared at the floor.
The doctor returned his attention to the monitor.
“Her heart rate is one-forty-two.”
“Blood pressure is dropping,” the nurse said.
The respiratory therapist adjusted the oxygen flow again.
“It’s not enough.”
The doctor made the decision.
“We’re intubating.”
Everything moved faster.
A tray appeared.
Medication was prepared.
The bed was repositioned.
My mother began crying.
“Emma, look at me.”
I turned my head toward her.
She was standing beyond the doorway with Daniel holding her back.
“I’m here,” she said.
For the first time that night, she sounded like my mother.
Not irritated.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Just scared.
“I’m right here.”
The doctor spoke close to my ear.
“We’re going to give you medicine to help you sleep.”
“You won’t feel the breathing tube.”
“Do you understand?”
I blinked once.
My eyes stayed on Mom.
She pressed her hand against her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The medication entered my IV.
Warmth spread through my arm.
The ceiling lights softened.
The noise faded.
My mother’s face became blurry.
Then everything disappeared.
When I woke again, I could not move.
Something hard filled my throat.
My chest rose without my permission.
A machine breathed for me.
For one terrifying second, I believed I was trapped inside my own body.
Then I heard voices.
Daniel’s voice.
Low and angry.
“You should have called me sooner.”
My mother answered quietly.
“I thought she was acting.”
“You always think that.”
“That’s not fair.”
“She collapsed in front of you.”
“I know what happened.”
“Do you?”
Silence followed.
I forced my eyes open.
The room was darker now.
A glass wall separated my bed from the hallway.
Machines surrounded me.
An IV pump clicked beside my head.
Daniel stood near the window.
Mom sat in a chair with both hands wrapped around a paper cup.
Neither of them noticed I was awake.
A doctor entered carrying a tablet.
He looked tired.
Serious.
Not relieved.
Daniel immediately stood.
“What did you find?”
The doctor glanced toward me.
He noticed my eyes were open.
“Emma, don’t try to talk.”
“You’re on a ventilator.”
“We’re keeping you sedated, but you may wake up from time to time.”
I stared at him.
My heart monitor sped up.
“You’re safe,” he said.
Then he turned to my mother and Daniel.
“We have preliminary results.”
Mom stood.
“What is it?”
“We still don’t know the full cause.”
Her shoulders fell.
“But we found something that concerns us.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“What?”
The doctor tapped the screen.
“Emma has evidence of severe anemia.”
“She also has an abnormal chemical marker in her blood.”
Mom frowned.
“What kind of marker?”
“One that can interfere with the body’s ability to use oxygen.”
Daniel looked toward me.
“So her lungs aren’t the only problem?”
“Correct.”
The doctor lowered the tablet.
“Her blood may not be carrying oxygen properly.”
Mom gripped the back of the chair.
“How does that happen?”
“It can be caused by certain medications.”
“Household chemicals.”
“Contaminated supplements.”
“Or deliberate exposure.”
The room became completely still.
Daniel spoke first.
“Deliberate?”
The doctor nodded carefully.
“We’re not making accusations.”
“But we need to know exactly what Emma consumed today.”
Mom shook her head.
“She ate dinner with us.”
“Did everyone eat the same food?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at her.
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
“Emma had the gravy from the small saucepan.”
Uncle Ray had made that gravy separately.
He said it was because Emma did not like mushrooms.
The memory sharpened inside my mind.
Uncle Ray standing near the stove.
The white bottle beside the cutting board.
His hand moving quickly when Caleb entered the kitchen.
At the time, I thought it was seasoning.
Now I was no longer sure.
The doctor watched their faces.
“Is there something we should know?”
Daniel slowly looked toward the hallway.
Uncle Ray was not there.
He had been following the ambulance.
He should have arrived by now.
But he had not entered the hospital.
Mom looked at Daniel.
“Where is Ray?”
Daniel pulled out his phone.
He checked the screen.
No missed calls.
No messages.
Then he looked through the glass toward the hospital entrance.
His expression changed.
“He was right behind me.”
The doctor’s voice became sharper.
“Who is Ray?”
“My brother,” Mom said.
“Was he involved in preparing dinner?”
Mom opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Daniel stared at her.
“Tell him.”
Her eyes filled with fear.
“He made the gravy.”
The doctor immediately turned toward the nurse.
“Call security.”
Mom stepped back.
“Why?”
The doctor looked directly at her.
“Because if this was an exposure, someone else may still be at risk.”
My monitor began beeping faster.
The doctor noticed.
“Emma, stay calm.”
But I could not.
Because one memory had returned with perfect clarity.
Uncle Ray had not just made the gravy.
Before dinner, I had seen him holding my vitamin bottle.
And when I asked what he was doing, he smiled.
Then he said something I had completely forgotten until that moment.
May you like
“Just making sure you take what you deserve.”
End of Chapter 2
