I was clearing up the breakfast dishes when the phone rang. “Something’s happened to your mom,” my dad said. He was trying to keep calm, but I could hear panic in his voice. “The ambulance should be here any minute.”
A rush of cold swept through my body, as if I could feel the blood draining to my feet. “Ambulance?”
“I found her collapsed on the floor. Hurry over! I’m alone here.”
I stumbled upstairs, jerked on my shoes and ran out to the car. Luckily my family all lived close together. My parents were only a few minutes away. I pulled out of my driveway and sped down the two-lane highway.
Mom hasn’t been well since the accident, I thought as I drove. She’d been hit by lightning and hadn’t truly recovered. God, be with her!
The front door to the house was thrown open when I arrived. I found my dad performing CPR in the hallway. Mom was stretched out on the floor in front of him. He looked up at me as I entered, his eyes full of anguish, his face white to the lips, sweaty with fear. I knew I’d carry the picture of it in my mind forever.
“Hang on, Mom,” I said, dropping to my knees to help Dad with the compressions. One, two, three… I counted them as I’d been taught in a life-saving course I’d taken at school. But would CPR be enough to help Mom? I touched my fingers to her wrist. No pulse. “Dear God, help us!” I said. “Help her, God!”
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