“I’m dispatching now. Is she conscious?”
“Yes.” I describe what she looks like—gray and sweaty, with shortness of breath. My heart is in my throat as I end the call with 911 and immediately dial Maeve’s number.
“Hey,” she says in greeting.
“Get Da and meet us at the hospital. My guess is we’ll go to Seattle, but I don’t know yet.”
“What? What’s happening?”
“Ma’s having a heart attack.” I guide her to a chair and help her down. “Ambulance is on the way. I can hear the sirens now.”
“I hear them, too. Should we come to the pub?”
“I don’t think you’ll make it here in time.”
I hear Maeve running through her house. “I can’t find Da. Are you sure he’s not at the pub?”
“I’m fucking sure, Maeve. I have to go.”
I hang up as four EMTs hurry into the kitchen with a gurney and a whole host of equipment I know nothing about.
They nudge me out of the way as they immediately hook Ma up to machines that start to beep and flash.
“Definite heart attack,” one of them says. “Let’s load her up. We’re flying her to Seattle General. We’ll have her there in twenty minutes.”
“I’m going with you.”
Ma’s eyes are closed, and she’s wheezing as she struggles to breathe. We’re loaded into the ambulance and rushed to a helipad where a helicopter is already running and ready for us. After we’re transferred into the aircraft and strapped in, I put my headphones on to talk to the staff and then shoot off a group text to all of my siblings.
Me: Ma and I are in a helicopter on our way to Seattle General. Heart attack. Please come right away.
I hit send and reach out for her hand. I can’t hear what she’s saying because she’s not wearing a headset, but I can read her lips.
Where’s Tommy?
I lean down so I can talk into her ear.
“We’re going to the hospital in Seattle, Mama. Da and the others are on their way. You’re going to be okay.”
Please, God, let her be okay.
I’ve never been so scared in my life as the helicopter touches down on the roof of the hospital, and we’re rushed inside and down to the emergency department.
“Fiona O’Callaghan,” someone yells. “Female, sixty-two. Chest pain, left arm pain, and jaw pain.”
“Got it,” someone else yells as Ma is wheeled back to a room. I stand back and watch as a flurry of people surround her and immediately hook her up to an IV and all kinds of monitors.
“Pulse is one eighty-one.”
“We need to get that down.”
I approach her from the side, hoping to help calm her. “Ma. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I take her hand once more, and she looks over at me with wide eyes. “I want Tommy.”
“I know, and he’s coming.” I want him, too. “For now, these people are going to help you. And I’m right beside you. I won’t budge. You know how stubborn I am.”
She licks her lips with nervousness.
They whisk her away for an x-ray, making me out to be a liar because I can’t be with her, but then she’s brought back.
Her coloring is worse. She looks scared out of her mind.
Jesus, I don’t know what to do for her. I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.
After what feels like hours, I hear my father behind me.
“I’m here,” he says and hurries over to us. Thank Christ. “I’m here, darlin’. Oh, my love, I’m so sorry. There now, it’s going to be just fine.”
“Tommy.” Ma clings to my father and finally lets the tears fall. “I’m so scared.”
“Shh. There now.” He kisses her forehead and looks up at the doctor. “What’s happening?”
“She’s having a massive heart attack,” he says. “We’re about to wheel her in for an angiogram so we can see where the heart is failing. If need be, we’ll perform surgery. I need permission to do so.”
“I’m her husband, and you have permission.” He kisses Ma’s cheek. “He’s going to fix you up right as rain, me love.”
When they wheel her off for surgery, Da and I walk out to the waiting room where everyone sits, waiting.
Izzy, with eyes full of tears, immediately jumps up and wraps her arms around my stomach, her cheek pressed to my chest, and I’ve never felt so relieved in all my life to see another human being.
The lump that was in my throat eases a bit.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I hate that you had to go through that by yourself.”
“She’s going to be okay.” I kiss the top of her head and look over at the others. “She’s going in for an angiogram so they can see what’s going on. She’s definitely having a heart attack.”
“Oh, Da.” Maggie hugs our father, and Maeve joins them, rubbing his back supportively.
“She’s going to be better than ever,” Da says as he pastes a cheerful smile on his weathered face. I’ve never seen him more worried or look so old. But he’s trying to be optimistic for us.
“Jace is the surgeon,” Anastasia says. She holds the baby against her shoulder. “He’s going to keep her completely safe. I’d trust no one more than Jace. He saved my father’s life just a couple of years ago.”
“See?” Maggie says. “She’s going to be just fine.”
Jace is Anastasia’s brother-in-law. We’ve met him several times at family gatherings. I’ve never taken the time to sit down to talk with him, but if Stasia trusts him, so do I.
“We should sit.” I urge Da toward a chair. We’re gathered as a family in the corner of a big waiting room.
“Actually,” a nurse says as she approaches, “if you’d like a more private place for your family to wait, there’s a waiting room over here that might be better.”
She leads us just around a corner and opens a door. The light comes on to reveal a private waiting area, just the right size for our group.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let the staff know you’re in here so you won’t miss any news.”
“Thank you,” I say to her.
I sit, and Izzy sits next to me. Shawn and Lexi are across from us with Kane and Anastasia. Maeve, Maggie, and Da take up the rest of the seats.
“Did they say how long it would take?” Maeve asks.
“No.”
“This is the worst part,” Shawn says and rubs his face with agitation. “The waiting.”
“I’ll go get coffees,” Maggie says. “Does everyone want coffee from the cafeteria?”
“They have an espresso cart not too far from here,” Stasia says. “I drank a lot of coffee from it. I would come help, but—”
“No, you sit,” Maggie says. She takes orders for three other coffees and then sets off in search of caffeine.
“Maggie needs to have a task,” Da says. “She’s a doer. If there’s ever a crisis, she’s the one bustling about.”
“I knew something wasn’t right,” Maeve says softly. “I had a hunch that it wasn’t just a tweaked shoulder, but she kept insisting that she was fine. That stubborn woman.”