Jane was unable to be still, or give enough attention to what Jason was doing to understand what he was saying. Scared,
she paced back and forth. “She can’t die. I didn’t know. How could I have known? Oh God! It was an accident.” “The ambulance is on the way.”
Jane ran to the bathroom again. Her throat felt tight and the skin around her eyes did too. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she gasped.
She looked like someone had pumped up her head with air. Her skin looked stretched to the point of splitting. “It’s getting worse. Oh my God!”
Jason grabbed her shoulders, practically dragged her away from the mirror, and steered her toward the couch. “Sit down before you run into something and give yourself a concussion.”
“But I can’t swallow. And it sounds funny when I talk. Anaphylaxis.” That wasn’t easy to say with lips like over-inflated bicycle inner tubes.
He nodded and answered calmly, “Yes.”
Feeling like she wasn’t getting her point across, she fisted his shirt in her hands and gave him a little shake. “People die from it.”
“You’re not going to die. I promise.” He turned his head to glance out the front window. “The ambulance will be here any second.
She felt drool dripping from the corner of her misshapen mouth and had to force herself not to begin crying. He found a tissue in his pocket and dabbed her face, wiping away the wetness. “Embarrassing,” she mumbled.
“No. Don’t be embarrassed. You can’t help it. I should have checked the flowers for bees. Who would’ve thought? It’s a little late in the season for bees.” He glanced out the window again. “They’re here,” he said on a sigh, the sound in his voice revealing exactly how nervous and worried he had actually been. He stood to open the front door and let the paramedics in. They entered, hands full of equipment, took one look at Jane and said, “Sir, we’re just going to get her loaded and head for the hospital. Can you follow us?” “Sure.”
One of the paramedics quickly led Jane to the ambulance and helped her up onto the gurney inside. Jason followed, and the last thing Jane saw before the paramedic closed the ambulance’s rear doors was his worried expression.
“Okay, I need you to lie down,” the paramedic said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and inflated it. Jane shook her head and wrapped her hand around her throat. “Can’t swallow. Choke.”
“We’ll take care of that right now.” He released the pressure from the cuff, took the measurement and pulled it off her arm then checked her pulse. “What’s your name?” “Jane…I mean Monica. Monica Starke.”
“Okay, Monica. I’m going to give you some medicine.” He quickly gathered a syringe and a vial of clear fluid, filled the syringe and stabbed her upper arm, injecting the medication into her muscle. She winced as the medicine burned her flesh. “What’s that?”
“Something to stop the reaction, I hope. It should work fairly quickly.” Hoping he was right, Jane counted heartbeats as she waited to see if the medicine would help. She got to two hundred—her heart rate was mighty quick at the moment—before he asked, “Feeling better yet?”
“I’m not sure.” She noticed her speech sounded a little less garbled. “It looks like it’s working. Can you lie down now?”
Jane took a trial swallow and was relieved when the little bit of spit she’d forced down made it past the knot in her throat. “I think so.”
“Good.” He helped her position herself on the gurney and strapped her in.
She tested the tightness of the belts by trying to lift her hips. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Are the restraints really necessary? I promise I won’t go berserk or anything and I’m not an escaped convict.”
“I believe you, but we want you to be safe.” He adjusted the tension on the one across her chest. “How’s that?”
“Nice and cozy,” she joked, finally starting to feel a little less panic-stricken and more like herself. The heat on her face was cooling to a light simmer versus a raging boil.
He grinned and it was only then that she realized how young he looked. Not that she was old or anything, but he was a child--couldn’t have graduated junior high. Since when did they hire children to be paramedics?
“I realize this might sound a little disrespectful, but are you sure you’re qualified to do this job?” she asked as she watched him record her vitals on a piece of paper. “I’ve had all the necessary training.”
“But, no offense, you look like you’re twelve.”
