Lightbulb (h.s.)

1- Dispatch

I was sitting in the basement, reading a book.

Suddenly, I heard a few thumps.

'Just Mum walking around,' I dismissed.

A few minutes later, I realized I could hear groaning sounds. I paused my reading, opening the door to the stairwell.

"Mum? You okay?" I called. Nothing. "Mum!" I yelled more frantically, shutting the door behind me and bolting up the stairs.

The agonizing groaning became louder as I ascended the stairs, panic taking over me. I rounded the corner of the landing and launching myself up the last three steps.

I gasped as I saw Mum laying on the floor, moving spastically.

"Mumma," I shrieked, tears spilling from my ducts. I tried to get myself to calm down, but I couldn't. She was obviously in pain, and she started hitting her head on the cupboards and kicking.

Our kitchen was cluttered, and Mum had set up a foldout table so she could dry dishes.

Of course, she'd also decided to put a 50lbs. KitchenAid mixer on it, too.

I picked up the home phone that was laid on the counter, dialling in the emergency number in as fast as possible.

"It's okay, Momma. You're gonna be okay," I sobbed, mostly trying to calm myself down.

"Hello, 911 Emergency Dispatch. Do you need an ambulance, fire-team, or police squad?" A feminine voice asked through the phone.

"An a-ambulance, please." I couldn't believe this was happening. My Mum was all I had left, my dad passed away of an alcoholic heart attack when I was eight.

"Okay, now what's your adress?"

It took me a moment to remember, the sight of Mum thrashing thoughtlessly on the floor, constantly bashing her head, disorienting me.

"Uh, f-fifty, f-fifty-fo-ur Glenrose W-way," I shook.

"Okay. Who's hurt?"

"It's my Mum." I explained the situation to the Dispatch woman.

"Okay, the ambulance is on it's way. What's she doing right now?"

"L-like I said, she's on the f-floor, and s-she keeps h-hitting her head."

"Spastically?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Stay calm."

"Oka-" I cried harder when I heard the foldout table, KitchenAid mixer and all, topple, covering Mum with tupperware and spilling a bowl of tomatoes across her. One got underneath her during Mum's writhing and was squished.

"What happened?" the young, not-so-calming voice on the other line queried.

"S-she knocked a m-mixer onto herself. It hit her in the head." I was in hysterics. I mean, who wouldn't be? I loved her, she'd saved me from my alcoholic father and made sure I wouldn't have to move from my friends or adopt out my cats.

Plus, if I lost her, all of her work would be for nothing, because I'd be shipped to Switzerland to live with my uncle, aunt, and cousins.

The sound of sirens in the distance grew louder.

"Okay, sweetie, is your door unlocked?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay. Leave it like that, they'll come in. They're on their way now," she told me calmly.

"Yeah," I felt as if her statement needed an answer, even though it probably didn't.

Mum was trying to get up. Every time I tried to hold her down she'd bat me away, so I deemed it hopeless. I helped her up and led her slowly out of the kitchen and to the couch, the operator talking to me the entire time.