Chapter 2 - THE CALLI called 911.
Not Maya’s doctor.
Not my sister.
Not Mom’s best friend.
The dispatcher answered.
I described Maya’s condition.
Six days postpartum.
Recent hemorrhage.
Known anemia.
Unconscious when found.
Now barely responsive.
Cold and sweaty.
Breathing.
No seizure.
No obvious heavy bleeding that I could see.
The dispatcher instructed me to lay Maya flat if safe, monitor breathing, keep Noah secure, and not give Maya food or drink until paramedics evaluated her.
Mom stood in the dining room.
“This is ridiculous.”
The dispatcher heard her.
“Sir, is anyone interfering with you?”
“No.”
Not yet.
Mom said:
“Maya needs sleep, not an ambulance.”
I looked at her.
“Stop talking.”
Her face changed.
My mother was not used to hearing that from me.
I had spent thirty-eight years translating her.
Explaining her.
Softening her.
Not that day.
Paramedics arrived within nine minutes.
My neighbor, Mr. Calhoun, came over after seeing the ambulance and took Noah only after I asked him.
Mom tried to object.
“He’s a newborn.”
Mr. Calhoun looked at her.
“Yes.”
Then took the baby carefully and stood ten feet away.
Paramedics assessed Maya.
Blood pressure high.
Pulse fast.
Pale.
Very weak.
When they sat her slightly upright, she became dizzy again.
One paramedic asked:
“Any severe headache?”
Maya whispered:
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“Since when?”
“Morning.”
“Vision changes?”
“Sparkles.”
Mom interrupted.
“She always gets migraines.”
The paramedic turned.
“Ma’am, please let the patient answer.”
Mom’s mouth closed.
Good.
Then:
“Any upper abdominal pain?”
Maya touched below her ribs.
“A little.”
They exchanged a glance.
One said:
“We’re transporting.”
I asked:
“Is this the anemia?”
“Could be several things. Postpartum fainting with elevated blood pressure and neurologic symptoms needs evaluation.”
No diagnosis on the carpet.
No guessing.
They loaded Maya onto a stretcher.
Noah started crying again.
Maya heard him.
Her eyes opened.
“My baby.”
“I have him.”
“No bottles.”
“What?”
Her fingers found my sleeve.
“Your mom… changed…”
She lost the sentence.
I leaned closer.
“Changed what?”
Maya’s eyes closed again.
The paramedic said:
“Sir, we need to go.”
May you like
I looked toward Mom.
For the first time, she looked afraid for a reason that had nothing to do with an ambulance bill.
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