This was an emergency. My mind raced. It could be nothing. It could be something. It could be congenital or genetic. Or then again, it could be nothing
“Thanks!” I waved back. “It’s cold out here, George, stay safe, and happy New Year.” I neatly maneuvered the car and retrieved my liaison badge from the dashboard so I’d be allowed entry into the hospital.
Even the few seconds of spotty reception in the garage were a few seconds too many. Predictably, my phone buzzed as soon as I stepped outside.
I skirted a sign in front of a CVS pharmacy reading No Mask, No Entry and blinked in the sunlight. I pulled on my mask and resigned myself to a couple of hours of oxygen deprivation.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Waller?” It was Sima Hoffer calling from the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota.
Create a free account to keep reading.
