Brain, Heal Thyself
Chaper One
EXCERPT
Copyrighted material
Chapter I
It is another astounding Indian summer afternoon in Door County, the northeast Wisconsin peninsula that juts out into the sky-blue waters of Green Bay and Lake Michigan. The misty atmosphere virtually vibrates with the jewel tones of nature—garnet, sapphire, topaz, and ruby—all set in shimmering gold. No wonder Door County is the Midwest’s artists’ Mecca.The patio door of my harbor-side home is wide open to an unusually balmy breeze off Lake Michigan. I’ve been lured to my easel by the siren call of lapping waves, seagulls and whistling back yard birds. Puffs of clouds are racing seagulls across the cobalt sky. Truly, this is paradise. Nothing can ruin my ecstatic mood as I paint the spectacular landscape I can see from my studio.Earlier in the partly cloudy day, I had been moping around, still trying to recover from a week-long bout with bronchitis. My housemate and best friend, Eve, had not too subtly suggested I get some fresh air by mowing the lawn before she gave the yard a final trim for the season.Despite my initial reluctance, mowing turned out to be no chore at all. It was invigorating. As the sun claimed more and more of the sky, the temperature responded accordingly, eventually creating a perfect fall day. I even thanked Eve for getting me moving again. Now I feel good enough to return to my painting, while Eve zips around the yard with her weed-whip. As the birch shadows lengthen in the late afternoon, I am totally lost in the mesmerizing process of creativity. Certainly it takes me several minutes before I realize that the weed whip is silent, replaced by anguished cries of distress mixed in with the background noise of nature.“Help me! Help me!” The words finally register in my mind.Oh, Lord, I wonder if Eve has chopped off a hand or foot. Dropping the paint brush, I race out of my art studio into the dining room.I hear the cry again, but I don’t know where it’s coming from. Sound plays tricks in a lakefront house. I run out on the deck. She’s not in the yard. Back inside, I fly through the kitchen to the front door. Nope, not there. Maybe the laundry room? Bathroom? Where is she? I hurry into the living room and peer down the dark hallway to our side door. There she is! Eve crawls out of the hallway shadows and collapses at my feet, moaning. “Help me.”At first, I’m frozen, then panicked. “What happened?” I shriek. “Did you cut off a foot?” Quickly checking, I’m relieved. No blood. Her legs and hands are intact. Thank God, I don’t have to retrieve a body part from a bush.Eve is crawling again to the middle of the living room. Now she’s rolling around on the rug, legs thrashing, clutching her head in her hands. She’s berserk with pain.“What’s the matter? Please tell me.” I’m begging for an answer.“Don’t know. Felt like I was shot between my eyes. Fell to my knees…passing out… crawled in…God, the pain!” The words come tumbling out in one breathless rush.I lean over and check her head. Maybe a stone hit her? Maybe a wayward bullet? It’s deer hunting season, isn’t it? Nope, no holes. Suddenly, she’s quiet. I’m grateful for the silence. Then I notice that her eyes are rolling back. It appears she’s losing consciousness.“Eve, are you fainting?”“Going to be sick.”“No, wait,” I squeak, “Not on the living room rug.” Like a raving lunatic, I run into the kitchen and fling open the cabinets, looking for a plastic bowl. An old one. What’s the matter with me? Just go help her, stupid. Then a thought occurs. Hey, wait a second. This is probably just a migraine. Eve gets one every other month. Sometimes she vomits. Yep, that’s what it is, a dumb headache.I hurry to the living room and thrust the old bowl at her face in the nick of time. I close my eyes until she’s finished gagging. Nervously, I check in the bowl. Uh-oh. It doesn’t look like lunch, nor does it look normal. “Please,” I beseech her, “tell me, do you think this is a migraine?”No answer. She’s losing consciousness again. She’s never done that before.I jump up and run to the phone. “Eve, is this migraine or should I call 9-1-1?” I wave the receiver in the air threateningly. Precious moments pass.“Call,” she says weakly.As Eve passes out, I punch the buttons.“Emergency operator.”“I’m not sure. I think we need help. An ambulance. My roommate hurt her head somehow. She’s losing consciousness. I don’t know if it’s a migraine.” I vaguely hope the operator will shed some light on my dilemma. “I think she’s unconscious now.”“Where are you?” the calming voice asks.“In Baileys Harbor.” I recite the street directions. It feels like I’m talking in slow motion. “Yes, the driveway is on the right coming from Sturgeon Bay.” This is going to take forever, I think. Sturgeon Bay is 40 minutes away. But no sooner do I hang up than there is a pounding at the back door. Who needs visitors now?I run to see who’s there. It’s the owner of a restaurant down the street. She’s holding a duffel bag. Really, I don’t have time to chat now.“I just got the emergency call,” she says breathlessly. “I’m a medical first responder. I know CPR. What’s wrong? Is it your roommate?”“Oh, sure, yes, she’s in the living room. Thank you. Please hurry.” As I open the door, I see two more first responders running up the driveway. I wave them inside and direct them to the living room. Amazing. Where are these people coming from?“Does Eve have a heart attack history?” a responder asks. “How about stroke?”“No,” I answer. “No!”Now the three first responders are kneeling next to Eve. “Well, it might be a migraine,” one says. “We need some ice.” I run to the refrigerator. Another knock at the door. Another first responder.“Get some blankets,” someone shouts. “She might be in shock.”I know I am in shock. I’m racing around like the proverbial headless chicken. I retrieve the ice from the refrigerator and run to the linen closet to find a blanket. Where are the damn blankets? Oh yeah, way up on the top shelf. I pull one and they all come tumbling down.I hear the distant wail of a siren. Wow, that ambulance got here fast. Soon there’s another knock at the door. “Paramedics,” they shout in unison.Armed with oxygen and a stretcher, they quickly take over. I’m crowded out of the living room trauma scene. Standing in the doorway, I feel so helpless as they call out more of the same questions. They’re all shouting at Eve to stay awake. I overhear one of them talking to the hospital on his cell phone. “Might be a migraine,” one paramedic says. “I don’t think so,” counters the other.In the blink of an eye, they’ve strapped petite Eve onto the stretcher. The first responders rise in unison as they watch the medics cart Eve down the hallway and out the door. The first responders parade out behind them. As if it’s an afterthought, one paramedic runs back into the house to talk to me.“We’re transporting Eve to the Door County hospital in Sturgeon Bay. You’ll have to drive yourself.” She turns and heads back to the ambulance.Copyright © 2006 Madonna Siles
