Viral

Part1: Asking for Help

I wake to the sound of a wracking cough reverberating around the room. Rolling over, I attempt to descend back into the quiet warmth of sleep but another cough dissuades me. What I wouldn't give for two more minutes. I crack my eyes open to the soft rays of light entering from behind the window curtains and drag myself out of my warm cocoon. I wade across the cold wood floor to pick up the half empty glass of water sitting beside her bed. It's obvious mother's condition has worsened during the night. Her eyes are blood shot from lack of sleep, her skin a pale sickly yellow. I hand the glass to her only for the water to splash across the sheets, her grip too weak to even clasp the glass. Grabbing the glass, I place it back on the table, and stripping her of the wet blanket. All the while, the dry hacks, breathe beating the air with concussive bursts, fill the silent room. Wet blanket draped over the chair to dry, I refill the glass from the sink in the bathroom.

The glass weighs heavy in my hand as I walk the path to my mother, the creaking floor adding a duet to the coughs. I tilt the glass and watch as drops trickle out the sides of her mouth as her dry cracked lips clasp the rim. A droplet of water runs down her chin and she catch it with her sandpapery tongue, desperately searching for moisture. Her tongue is swollen, with dark patches running down its length that I'd swear weren't there the day before.

Her coughs quiet into a moment of silence. I take one of the blankets off my bed and carefully pack it around her small frame, her body barely visible beneath the layers upon layers of fabric. Once done I walk to the phone on the kitchen wall and pick it up. The dial tone sounds loud in the quiet, and I hesitate for a second before dialing an all too familiar number.

The phone rings once, then a man's voice answers. "Hello?" the deep base of the voice is a reassuring balm to my nerves.

"Hi, it's Lena, I-." He cuts me off.

"You must be looking for Andy," his voice quiets as he shifts away from the phone. "Let me just go get him for you."

"Wait!" I call out. "I called to talk to you Dr. Mang," I say as quickly as I can in the hopes he can still hear me.

"Oh?" His voice returns loud and clear into my ear. "What can I do for you?" I must sound a little desperate because his tone is calming, careful, as though approaching a frightened animal too scared to run. "I was just about to leave for work."

I close my eyes, force myself to take a breath before continuing. "My mother's been ill for the past four days. We thought it was the flu, but then she couldn't hold down anything. Last night her fever wouldn't break when I gave her the max dosage of ibuprofen." My voice starts to quiver but I hold the sobs back. "This morning she can't even raise her arm, and she has spots on her tongue and..." My throat closes with held back tears.

"You're sure?" Dr. Mang's voice is cool and controlled. It was as though he was asking about the weather.

"I'm sure. What do I do?" My hands are shaking, but my eyes stay dry as I look towards the front yard.

"I'll come over momentarily, just wait for me. Alright?" I can practically see him nodding his head as he says, "everything is going to be fine." His voice is reassuring and I nod my head along with his as I try to calm my nerves.

"Yes. Thank you Dr. Mang."

"I'll see you soon." And the line cuts off before I can thank him.

I stand there holding the phone to my ear for a moment before placing the receiver back on the base with a resounding click of finality. Get dressed. The thought is murky in my quickly numbing mind. Don't meet him in your pajamas. Getting up I robotically get dressed, throw the pajamas onto my disheveled bedspread, and sit down to wait. Minutes pass, other than an occasional crackling cough sounding from the other room, and the tick of the clock on the wall, I am shrouded in the dark stillness of the early morning. I sit alone with my thoughts and fears, for an eternity of 10 minutes before the bell finally rings.