Shoo Fly, Part I

"I NEED A WHEELCHAIR." Everyone looked at me dumbfounded. "I NEED A WHEELCHAIR." Dumbfounded and non-responsive.

My eyes raced around the emergency room. Within seconds I had memorized every face, every expression. They would pay if something happened to her. Still no wheelchair. Then, in the corner of my eyes, I spotted the spokes. Near the door where I entered, a folded wheelchair rested on the wall. I darted for the chair. They darted after me.

Through the automatic doors and down the ramp, I was at the SUV. Carefully, I lowered her from the seat into the wheelchair. Her breaths were labored. Each more precious than the one before. Quickly, I spun the chair around and dashed toward the emergency room door.

"SHIT!"

The only way into the ER was up a ramp which meant that I would need to lean her back in the chair. How can you lean her back in the chair? She can’t breathe. She already nearly blacked out trying to get out the car.

"Grab the front of the wheelchair," I snapped at the face from the lobby, "We’re going to have to carry this thing up the ramp."

My uncle and I proceeded to lift the chair up the ramp and just as suddenly, the first face I memorized in the ER knocked me to the side. Instantly, he leaned the chair back and started up the ramp. As I gathered myself there at the base of the ramp, her eyes rolled back in her head. I was helpless to help her. She was out.

By the time I got to the top of the ramp and through the doors the hospital intercom blared, "CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"

What the hell does that mean? Did you hear that? What is a code blue?

I can’t remember if I knew what Code Blue was or not. I don’t recall if I figured it out right there in the ER but soon it all hit me. The look I saw on her face, as her head fell limp and her eyes retreated in her skull, might be the last look I would see on her face alive.

We waited in the lobby of the ER. My mother...in tears. My uncle, an innocent bystander, lapped the room in disbelief. She was the only one of us who had seen anything remotely like this. Times before when it got this bad, I was always left at home to man the phone and keep the rest of the family updated but, tonight I was here out of necessity. Tonight, home was a twelve hour car ride away and there was no phone to man.

It had been about an hour since my sister coded and very little word had come from behind the double doors of the ER. I sat on the far wall of the waiting room in direct site of the double doors...anxious. The television mounted in the corner of the open space was of minimal distraction. Distractions? This room had none. The walls, the chairs, the ceiling, the floor...white. Barren. No paintings. No posters. No brochures. No magazines. Just wait.

We knew she was alive but that was all we knew. My father had been allowed behind the double doors some time ago but had yet to return with any news. The double doors were hinged to swing in and out so they did not come in direct contact with the ground. The shadows at their base intrigued me. I assumed the shadows were doctors and nurses scrambling back and forth among the patients. I hadn’t seen anyone else come into the emergency so I assumed my sister was one of maybe two or three patients being treated.

Finally, the doors opened in my direction and my father appeared in the lobby. He spotted me immediately. Mother hadn’t noticed me notice him and my uncle still circled the room in a daze. My dad motioned for me to come over.

"Son, your sister is Ok," he managed, "but it’s bad". I stared intently into his eyes. "I really don’t think that your mother should see her like this." I was still silent. "But if you want to see her, I think it’ll be ok."

It can’t be that bad. How bad could it really be? What the hell happened in there? It must be pretty bad if Daddy doesn’t want Mama to see it at all.

"Son, there’s nothing I can say that will prepare you for what you are about to see," he cautioned. "I’m gonna need you to be strong and hold it together. We can’t break down or else your mother’s gonna break down."

Now I was looking into his chest. My Daddy put his hand under my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his, "I’ll understand if you don’t want to go in."

"No. No, I wanna go in," strong in voice, weak in spirit,. "I can do it."

"Ok, son. I’m gonna go and talk to your mother. You can go in whenever you are ready."
He rested his hand briefly on my shoulder before he made his way toward the waiting area.
The amount of time I stood at those double doors I may never be able to determine. I had no clue what condition my sister would be in on the other side. Prayed? Maybe, can’t remember. Cried? No, I know that for certain. Talked to myself? Not aloud but all the voices in my head certainly had a lot to say already this evening. Finally, all of them agreed that it was time for me to go in.

to be continued...