The day started off well enough. Ryan was gone until late afternoon, playing racquetball with his work buddies in Mountain View, but Maddy was content. She welcomed some time alone, catching up on emails, replying to the guy from the Center for Independent Living about their campaign to improve the local transit system’s elevators, and reviewing the agenda for Monday’s board meeting.

The fog burned off early, shooting rays of golden sunlight into the nook where she sat at the computer. She was about to scoot into the backyard when her phone rang. She lifted the orange lanyard on which it dangled and tapped Accept with her knuckle.

“Hi, Jess. What’s up?”

“Wanna come to the farmers’ market with me? The stone fruit is in.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Maddy barely had time to gather up her purse and canvas tote bag and was still hunting for her hat when she heard Jess knock at the door.

“It’s open.”

Jess bounded in and squatted in front of Maddy to give her a hug. She was almost six feet tall, a few years older than Maddy, in her early forties perhaps, but energy radiated from her long agile limbs. Her forehead was moist with sweat.

“It’s warming up out there.” She unwound a purple scarf from her neck. “You ready?”

“Just looking for my hat.”

“This one?”

Jess grabbed a green baseball cap hanging from the upper hook behind the front door. It was decorated with a yellow butterfly and “Life Is Good” across the front.

“Yes.” Maddy puffed out her cheeks. “How am I supposed to reach it up there?”

“The new morning girl?”

“Must be. One more thing I’ll have to go over with her.” Maddy grabbed the hat between her two wrists, flexed her neck forward and pushed the hat into place.

Jess lowered herself to Maddy’s height again and gently swept stray ash-blond hairs off her forehead, tucking them under the brim of the cap. “Don’t be mad at her for not being Brianna.” Brianna was Maddy’s long-term attendant who had just moved to the East Coast for school.

“I’m not. I’m being very patient.”

Jess locked the back door. “Wow, these are gorgeous.” She leaned over a tall vase on the counter displaying six long-stem red roses, elegantly arranged between sprigs of baby’s breath.

“Ryan bought them for me yesterday. ‘Just because’ is what he said.”

Jess beamed. “You’re a lucky girl.”

“Yes, I am.” Maddy smiled. And then felt flushed suddenly.

Jess laughed. “I’ve made you blush.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Maddy was not easily embarrassed. Last month, when Jess had rescued Maddy from the bathroom floor, they laughed it off together. But Maddy could feel her cheeks on fire now. Must be the sudden heat of the morning.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said.

 

---

 

They made fast progress, with Maddy gliding her wheelchair smoothly around the familiar cracks in the sidewalk. But as they waited for the light to change at Rose Street, she felt a stab of pain in her lower belly and inhaled sharply. “Ow.”

She hoped Jess hadn’t noticed, but she had. “What’s up?”

The light changed. “Let’s go.” Maddy zipped across the intersection so fast Jess had to run to catch up.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I must be getting my period,” Maddy said.

But she knew that wasn’t right. She was only halfway through her cycle. The spasm subsided and Maddy pushed it out of her mind. She saw the white awnings of the market stalls up ahead and the thick mid-morning crowds. She would have to concentrate to navigate her passage.

Jess led the way, forging a path for Maddy, turning to offer her slices of apricots and nectarines impaled on toothpicks. They all seemed delicious, but after the third or fourth stall, Maddy lost her appetite. The sun was beating down and the crowds grew thicker, and she wanted to be done. When Jess stopped to question one woman about pesticide-free versus organic, Maddy was hit with a wave of nausea.

“I need to get into the shade,” she said, heading for a large oak tree next to the kettle-corn stand.

Jess followed. “My god, Maddy, you look awful. We’d better get you home. Then I’ll call your doctor.”

“Why does this have to happen on the weekend?” Maddy groaned. “Dr. Nicholls will be off, and I’ll have to deal with some idiot who knows nothing about me.”

They turned into Maddy’s street. She feared she might throw up all over the Groffmans’ perfect lawn, but they reached home just in time. She made a dash for the bathroom and vomited into the sink.

“You need to go the emergency room,” Jess said.

“No, please. I’ll be fine if I lie down.”

But she wasn’t. After Jess transferred her into bed and placed a cool cloth on her forehead, Maddy’s gut continued to twist in waves of intense pain. Jess insisted on calling an ambulance.

The paramedics arrived and were calm and efficient, lifting Maddy onto their gurney in one smooth motion. She was alert enough to notice the deep blue eyes of the one who gently placed oxygen tubing into her nostrils and inserted an IV catheter. He smiled as he secured the line with paper tape, seemingly unfazed by her crooked wrists.

“I’ve sent Ryan a text and I have your wallet, cell phone. What else do you need?” Jess stood at the front door.

“I need to bring Louise with me,” Maddy said. “Back in the bedroom.”

Jess returned with Maddy’s breathing machine, stuffing it into its carrying case. The paramedic took one look and said, “Oh no, ma’am. You won’t need that. They have their own machines in the hospital.”

Maddy, gripped by another powerful cramp, managed to say, “I never leave home without it.”

 

---

 

The paramedics whisked Maddy into the treatment area, separating her from Jess the minute they arrived. She didn’t feel good. Her heart fluttered with irregular beats under her breastbone; her upper lip was moist with sweat. Three staff members bustled around her gurney.

“Can you put this under your tongue?” A thermometer was waved in front of her face.

“This IV has blown already,” one of them complained, pulling at Maddy’s arm. Maddy was in a lot of pain, but she squinted at the name badge: Sandra. “God damn it,” this woman said. “Can you please hold still?”

A spasm jerked Maddy’s arm. Nothing she could do to stop it, but Sandra cursed as if Maddy were deliberately trying to give her a hard time. She couldn’t explain with the thermometer in her mouth.

“We’ll get you more comfortable as soon as we can.” A kinder voice came from a very young-looking woman with huge black eyes on the other side of the gurney.

“Terrible veins,” Sandra complained again. “Okay, got it. Now please hold still.” She said, yanking on Maddy’s left wrist then tying her arm to the side rails with cotton strapping.

“One hundred point nine,” the other nurse said, removing the thermometer and taping an oximeter device to the pointer finger on Maddy’s right hand.

“My arm is still likely to spasm in that position,” Maddy said. “If you ask my friend to come in, she could hold it in place. That would work much better.” Right on cue, a wave of pain sent her body arching again, her arm straining against its harness.

Another face appeared at the entrance to the cubicle. “Sandra, Charlie needs you in Twelve.” Sandra disappeared without responding to Maddy’s request.

It was chaotic out there. Maddy was right next to the nurses’ station, where she could hear everything. “Fifteen needs to go to CT stat…Code Three on the way…”

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise and take slow, deep breaths. She should use her BiPap machine when lying down. But the thought of explaining that to Sandra filled her with dread. She wiggled her shoulders a tad and pursed her lips, breathing in and out, trying to visualize her lungs filling with good, clean mountain air. Not easy. All she could smell was plastic and disinfectant.

When she opened her eyes again, she was still alone. And cold. She felt kind of woozy but couldn’t remember if they’d given her anything for the pain. She didn’t think so. Maybe it had eased up a bit. She really wanted to see Jess. And Ryan—but she knew it would take him an hour to cross the Bay. A call light was attached to the railing but out of reach. Perhaps she should shout for help. She didn’t want to be a troublemaker, but she felt a rising panic in her chest.

A face appeared at the entrance to her cubicle, then quickly disappeared again.

“Hello?” Her voice came out in a pathetic squeak.

“Just a minute, hon.”

More voices just outside. Close, really close.

“You’ve got an order for urine.”

“Oh, my god. She’s totally crippled, can’t walk at all. I’ll have to cath her, I guess.”

Maddy realized they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there, when she was clearly within earshot. Maybe they thought she was deaf.

“Jeez. Does it make sense to give her aggressive treatment?”

“I know, right? Dreadful case. If ever I’m in that state, remind me to check out, okay? She doesn’t even have a do-not-resuscitate order. That’s crazy.”

Maddy then became aware of a new kind of commotion.

“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am. Can I help you?”

And then a voice that brought a smile to her face, in spite of another spasm of pain.

“I’m Maddy Lohman’s best friend. Her husband is on his way. I need to see her. And I need to speak to the doctor.”

“Dr. Ross hasn’t had a chance to review the lab results.” That sounded like Sandra again, but in an obviously fake nice tone, as if she were trying to convince herself she could be pleasant. “Miss Lohman is comfortable now. She’s very sedated.”

How would she know? Maddy thought. She hasn’t been in here, has she?

“I need to see her. Where is she?”

“She’s in Nine. But you can’t…”

Sandra appeared at the foot of the gurney, followed by the delightful sight of Jess towering above her, the large black bag slung over her shoulder. Sandra rubbed Maddy’s chest and shouted, “How you doing?” She studied the monitor above Maddy’s head. “Whoa…those sats don’t look too good.”

“I’m cold,” Maddy said. “Can I please have a blanket?”

“Just a minute.” Sandra turned to Jess and said, “I need a urine specimen. Do you think she could use a bedpan?”

Jess said, “Why don’t you ask her? She’s perfectly capable of speaking for herself.” She pulled Maddy’s machine out of the bag and looked around for an outlet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sandra said.

“We need to set up her BiPap machine. You saw her numbers.” Jess nodded at the monitor. “She needs it whenever she sleeps.” She plugged the device into the outlet above Maddy’s head, and the displays lit up in neon green.

“No, ma’am. You can’t do that. We need to wait for the doctor…”

“You go wait for your doctor, have him come in here. I want to speak with him. In the meantime, I want Maddy to keep breathing, if that’s okay with you. Excuse me,” Jess said, reaching across Maddy, pushing Sandra’s hands away, and attaching the nasal mask.

“You can’t use non-hospital machinery in here, ma’am.”

“Well, until you guys get it together to hook her up to one of yours, she’s going to use her home BiPap machine, affectionately known as Louise.” She peered at Sandra’s name tag. “Sandra: meet Louise. Louise: this is Sandra.”

 

---

 

By Monday morning, Maddy was feeling much better. She’d hardly slept with all the noise in the ICU, but she could tell her temperature was down, and the spasms in her belly had subsided. She was hoping to get home.

Dr. Nicholls had promised to pop in on her way to the office. She’d come in yesterday, even though she wasn’t on call, and talked the ICU docs into letting Maddy use her own BiPap; their machines didn’t feel right, the masks uncomfortable and bulky. Dr. Nicholls had also advocated for a PIC line and a home infusion service for Maddy to complete her IV antibiotics at home.

The nurse came in to hang this morning’s dose. Maddy was glad to see she had Gloria again. It was Gloria’s suggestion yesterday to contact Dr. Nicholls’ answering service.

“Good morning.” Gloria had a bright smile and golden-brown skin. “You look perky this morning. Can I get you breakfast?”

“Maybe some toast and juice.”

“Okay.” Gloria spiked the IV bag and popped a thermometer under Maddy’s tongue. “Your sweetie called again. I told him I thought you might get released today. Normally, they’d want you on Med-Surg for a day or two, but BiPap’s not allowed on the regular floors. They won’t want you tying up an ICU bed, so I’d say your chances look good.” She winked at Maddy and removed the thermometer. “Perfect. Ninety-eight.”

“I’ve just realized I have a board meeting tonight,” Maddy said.

“Not so fast, young lady. You’ll have to take it easy for a few days. You’ve had a very nasty kidney infection.”

“I know, but…”

“There’ll be no ifs, ands, or buts.” Gloria scrutinized the monitor above Maddy’s head. “Your board will have to carry on without you.” She nodded in approval at the numbers on the display. “Looking good. We’re just checking your white count.” She smiled. “What board meeting is it?”

“Disabled Sports and Recreation. We have to vote on our funding priorities for next year.”

“You’ll have to figure out how to vote remotely. I’m going to hunt down toast.”

She turned to leave but spun around when she reached the glass partition. “I’ve just had an idea, a favor to ask you.” She returned to the bedside. “When you’re completely better.” She hesitated a moment. “I’ve been nominated to sit on the hospital’s diversity committee.” She made air quotes with her fingers, still encased in blue medical gloves. “Kind of got roped into it by my manager, to tell you the truth. But…I would love for you to come talk about disability awareness issues.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Maddy rolled her eyes. “Like come in and be super crip?”

Gloria winced. “Sorry. Is that not okay to ask? I was just thinking you have a lot to offer. We were talking about educational presentations for the staff. Some people are pretty clueless.”

“I know, but—I’m not some kind of superhero. I’m just living my life.”

Gloria’s mouth twisted in disappointment. “Got it.”

“But hey,” Maddy smiled. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Awesome.”

“Can I nominate a nurse in the emergency room for mandatory attendance?” Maddy said. “A dreadful case.”

Barbara Ridley was born in England but has lived in California for most of her adult life. After a successful career as a nurse practitioner, she is now focused on creative writing. This story is inspired by her many years caring for patients with neurological disabilities. Her debut novel, When It’s Over (She Writes Press, 2017), set in Europe during WWII, won the IBPA Benjamin Franklin Silver Medal in historical fiction. Her work has also appeared in The Forge Literary Magazine, Ars Medica, The Copperfield Review, Blood and Thunder, and Stoneboat, among other places. See www.barbararidley.com; Facebook: www.facebook.com/BarbaraRidleyAuthor; Twitter: @barbara_ridley; and Instagram: @barbara.ridley.author.