One of the very first blogs I have read on this site.. and I am glad that it was this one! So beautiful.. this story may seem tragic at first glance but think of the strength each character exudes. This gives me hope.
Anne wasn’t hit by a bus. She was standing still, staring at a painting she didn’t give a shit about, when her eyes glazed and she dropped her purse. It took Don five minutes to realize that something was wrong, to remember that Anne didn’t care about paintings or museums. Anne only really cared about the baby growing inside her.
That evening, Don had been in the hospital with Uncle Charlie, the sole member of Anne’s family that had medical training.
“It’s probably nothing,” he said, sipping a coffee.
Paramedics wheeled in a stretcher with an old lady on it. Don tried to spy her face, and wondered why they weren’t moving faster. “Shouldn’t they be moving faster?”
“It’s probably nothing,” said Uncle Charlie. Another sip.
An hour later, the doctor came. Hypovolemia – a sudden loss of blood. He said something about salt…
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