It begins at 11:14 in the morning on Thursday, December 18, 2008. I am sitting outside the dentist’s office, ten minutes early for my appointment. My dad calls. I am on the “other line” with someone else, so I let it go to voice mail. I can’t remember now who I was talking to.
I almost don’t listen to the message.
“Beth, it’s Dad. Call me as soon as you can. Mom has had some kind of medical problem, an emergency. The paramedics were here and she’s on her way to Kaiser.”
I imagine that she had probably slipped and hurt her foot, which had recently been diagnosed with arthritis. She had been in considerable pain. Probably nothing serious, I think.
I almost don’t call him back right away.
He is frantic. They had done CPR he tells me. My entire body freezes. CPR? That means her heart had stopped. This can’t be happening.
“She couldn’t breathe,” he says.
“She called 411 instead of 911,” he says.
‘She was confused. She had a stroke’ I think.
“Drive slowly,” he tells me. “The police said lots of people get in to accidents on their way to the hospital. Take it slow.”
I call Beth. I don’t know how to get there.
I call April.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask her.
“I’m on my way,” she says.
My hands are shaking. My mind is racing. All I can think is, “She stopped breathing.”
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