A trip to the ER

“What’s wrong, babe?” Vince asked me.

“I believe I’m having a miscarriage,” I said. “I can’t wait for the EMTs to get up here. I’m going down to meet them.”
I made an attempt to grab my wallet, jacket and phones but I was rather shaky. Vince helped me with putting my jacket on. As soon as we opened the door, the EMTs were right there and had a stretcher.

“I’m walking out,” I said as I stumbled and grabbed Vince’s elbow.

“No way, Lieu! You’re not gonna collapse on the floor. We’re gonna take you out on this stretcher!” Phil, one of the EMTs, said.

“Over my dead body, Phil,” I replied.

“You’re gonna be dead after taking the first stair down, Lieu. We’re taking you in the stretcher. If you misbehave, we WILL strap you all the way in,” Phil replied.

I grumbled with dissatisfaction as Vince helped me up on the stretcher. Once safely on, the lap belt was fastened and a blanked was spread across my lap.

“Vince, take the bike and go ahead to the ER,” I said. “You know who my doctor is there. Please get him to meet us at the door.”

Vince nodded and grabbed the keys to my motorcycle and booked it to the valets. The EMTs and I were out the door about a minute later. The stomach pains were worse; at times like this I was grateful that I had an apartment on the first floor.