Sun glittered off the light fixtures in the hotel lobby that buzzed with activity, as Deborah Bryan and her daughter-in-law pulled the luggage cart toward the elevators. Chatting about the upcoming conference, Deborah paused, feeling faint.
Moments later, she opened her eyes and found herself on the floor, surrounded by concerned faces.
“I’m OK,” she said, struggling to get up.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I felt faint. That’s the last thing I remember.”
A while later, Deborah rested in her hotel room as her family hovered, fluffing the pillows behind her back.
“I think I’m just tired,” she said. “I haven’t been getting enough rest.”
That was true. Deborah, a registered nurse, owned her own home health care business, taking care of hospice patients and those with Alzheimer’s. Busy with her career, her children and her grandchildren, she didn’t spend a lot of time taking care of herself. Still, she was only 56, and she’d never been sick. She wondered if her blood pressure or blood sugar had risen.
What she couldn’t handle was the look in her children’s eyes as they watched her with wary concern. They’d lost so much already. In 1999, their father, Ron, had complained of a sore throat. When it didn’t heal, he’d gone to the doctor and had been diagnosed with throat cancer. Although Ron had never smoked, he’d developed cancer due to secondhand smoke from the workplace. Six months after being diagnosed, he died in Deborah’s arms.
Deborah looked around the hotel room with a sigh. So much for memories. She had to get out of bed and dispel the gloom.
“Look,” she said, walking across the room, “I’m fine. Let’s get going.”
BVOV : 13
