Page 113 of Puck Block

I step out into the hallway, but I quickly move backward when I’m almost run over by an empty rolling bed. I follow the rushing nurses and glance down the hall.

Emory bumps into me, and I grunt.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

It’s chaos.

A doctor follows the commotion, and an alert comes over the intercom.

“Code blue on floor one. Code blue on floor one.”

Anxiety rises to the surface.

There’s a flashback tapping me on the shoulder, but I ignore the debilitating memory and run toward the mayhem.

Emory calls after me, and he probably thinks I’m trying to run out of the hospital to avoid another panic attack, but I’m not. The hallway sways, and a wave of nausea almost takes me down. I’m not sure if it’s fear or the concussion, but either way, neither of those things stops me.

“Taytum!” I shout.

Dr. McCathy turns and is shocked to see me. I dump Taytum’s purse out on the ground and look for her insulin. I scatter everything around. I fiddle with her manual glucose monitor, the strips, and even her glucose tablets, but I can’t find her insulin pen. “Where the fuck is it?”

I shake my head.Never mind that.

I enter her phone’s password and search for her last sugar reading. Doctor McCarthy takes it, and his brow furrows. “When was her last injection?”

“I don’t know. I think she gave herself insulin right before I got hit. So…fuck, I don’t know. An hour ago?”

Dr. McCarthy spouts off a list of instructions to the nurses, but I hear nothing. The blood drains from my face when they lift her lifeless body onto the gurney and rush her down the hallway and behind the swinging doors. I want to follow after them and hover over their shoulders to make sure they’re doing everything they can, but I stay with Dr. McCarthy and tell him everything I can think of that will help.

“Her sugar has been all over the place.” I’m certain he’s already aware, but I add it anyway. “She was messing with her insulin dosing a couple of weeks ago and–”

“Wait, what?” Shock ripples over his face. “What do you mean?”

I try to slow my words. “She’s taking the full doses now, but up until recently, she was spacing them out and not taking as much as she should. Or taking too much.” I shake my head. “She found out how much the pump is, and her parents have been struggling to pay for her insulin, so–”

“Jesus!” Dr. McCarthy starts to walk away. “Okay, that’s helpful. She’s probably in another DKA episode.”

“What? I’m coming with you. I’ll wait outside her room. I don’t care, but I’m not just going to go sit here when you have the love of my life in some room while she’s in a possible diabetic coma!”

Dr. McCarthy spins around and grabs my arms. “You have a concussion. You’re shirtless and frantic. I promise you she’s going to be fine. I will fix her.”

He turns, and I know I’m only going to add to the chaos if I fight it and follow him, so I go the opposite direction and meet Emory.

He’s paralyzed with fear. He’s in the same spot I left him in, even with some of our teammates standing around with worried looks on their faces. They likely saw the entire thing.

I bypass them and snap my fingers in front of Emory’s face. “Emory!”

He meets my eyes slowly, and my bare chest is covered with goosebumps.

“Call your parents. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

Theo speaks up. “They’re already on their way because of your concussion.”

Fuck my concussion.

Claire runs over to me from the nurses’ desk. “She’s on floor se–”

“Floor seven,” I finish for her. “The MICU. I know.” It’s the same floor my mother died on. But regardless, I’m going up there.

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