She never made it that far. Halfway through her bus ride, her phone rang. The caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize. Normally, she would have ignored it. Something made her answer. Hello. The voice on the other end was urgent. Is this Hannah Brooks? Yes. This is sent Vincent Medical Center. Her heart immediately tightened.
What’s wrong? Your grandmother collapsed about 20 minutes ago. The world seemed to stop moving. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. What happened? We need you to come immediately. The call ended. Everything after that became a blur. The bus, the traffic, the hospital entrance, the bright lights, the fear. By the time Hannah reached the emergency department, tears were already running down her face. She rushed to the reception desk.
My grandmother, Rose Brooks. The nurse checked a computer. They’re still evaluating her condition. Still evaluating. Those two words felt terrifying because they meant nobody knew how serious the situation really was. Hours passed. Doctors came and went. Tests were performed. Questions were asked. Yet no one could give Hannah a clear answer.
