I had my bi-annual dentist appointment on Thursday. My family have had the same dentist for more than 20 years. I knew all the people who worked there fairly well and often spend time chatting about their personal lives when I went to the office. Normally the dental hygienist would call my name, so I sat waiting to hear her voice. Instead, a medical assistant I’d never seen called me to the front desk. She asked me to fill out a current medical records card. I wasn’t familiar with this person and became suspicious because this was out of the norm for how things were done here. I asked myself at the time, why is she here, why is she giving me the documents to update when the hygienist usually takes my information? I filled out the form, as asked, and was surprised when the medical assistant practically ripped it out of my hands, saying, “I’ll take that!” My appointment with the hygienist was otherwise normal, and I went home, turning my thoughts to the work that I needed to finish before I called it a day.

I worked steadily for ninety minutes, but felt worse as the afternoon wore on.  My left hand felt achy and stiff, which I attributed to my “arthritis” (self-diagnosed) and tried to work through the discomfort.  However, by 4pm I could add a migraine and nausea to my list of complaints.  Feeling too unwell for work, I logged off early for the day and decided to lay down so I could recover well enough to attend the evening event.  It would take some time to control the physical pain I was feeling as well as the exhaustion.

Our daughter Alex was a high school senior that year, and had been looking forward to a lot of fun activities, as had we.  It was Homecoming week at school and there was a performance for friends and families.  Each grade level would be performing skits.  Our little social butterfly was of course excited to have a lead role in the senior performance.  Our daughter would drive herself to the performance while my husband and I planned to bring my parents, who attended all their grandchildren’s events.  However, at the last minute, my husband called to tell me he was running late at work and would meet us at the performance.  So I picked up my parents and went to the school gym where the performances were to be held, to grab good seats and hold one for my husband.

Arriving early I was able to get front row seats, ensuring that we would have unobstructed views of the performances. I was still feeling unwell. Besides the exhaustion that stayed with me relentlessly, I was feeling heart palpitations.  I attributed these to the anxiety that I’d been diagnosed with earlier this year.  A result of the stress and uncertainty related to my work for sure.  But this night, I felt in a fog. I felt a little fuzzy and more in my head than normal.

The room filled up with friends and families as we neared the time for the show to start.  Having raised our family in the same town we grew up in, I recognized many faces in the crowd, some close friends even.  My husband was still not in his seat. As I looked around, I spotted him in the back of the gym.  He looked absorbed in his phone, texting.  He didn’t like to carry a cell phone, only having one for emergencies, and to see him texting was odd.  He much preferred to call people directly. We all knew not to expect a reply if we texted him.

I looked around the room at the faces that I recognized and noticed a High School administrator sitting in a chair next to our row.  She was looking at me, at us. Was she staring at me?  And as I thought that, she started talking on her walkie-talkie. What’s up with the walkie?

I continued to check on Wayne over the next 10 minutes, not wanting to leave my parents alone, assuming he was on his way.  Each time I looked back, he was still very engaged in his phone and texting.  I couldn’t imagine what he would be spending so much time on.  I finally got up and went to the back of the gym to remind him the show was about to start and he needed to take his seat.  He just waved me off and scoffed at my request to come sit down.  I returned to my seat and he joined us shortly. Once seated, the texting continued.  I tried to remind him not to miss Alex’s performance and to put aside his phone, but he was just dismissive of me.  He waved off my arm and gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. I got the message and left him alone.

I looked around to see if anyone was bothered by his texting and saw the High School administrator looking directly at me again. Why was she there? Why was she watching me? Us? And again, talking on the walkie-talkie?

The show started with the freshmen class skits, working through the grades to the seniors, who performed last.  We were enjoying the performances, which were going well, until the seniors section of the program.  In the middle of the senior finale, and right at the start of Alex’s dance, a commotion started.  There was some loud talking in the room, the lights came on, and it appeared someone in the audience was having a heart attack or had passed out.  School administrators were yelling “Stop” to the performers, and “Dial 911”.  In what seemed to be less than a minute, police and firefighters arrived and performed CPR.  This all seemed like it was something “planned”, like I was watching something made up that was intended to create confusion and suspicion for me.

The show restarted and was uneventful for the rest of the program.  By the end of the performances I was tired and couldn’t shake the odd feeling I had from the emergency. I just wanted to go home. I didn’t feel social and didn’t want to see anyone, which is really unlike me. Yet how could I escape unseen with so many friends present?  I tried to dodge them by looking for an exit that didn’t go by any of them, but it just wasn’t possible.  As I saw friends converging on me it was like somebody was orchestrating everyone I knew to come over to chat.  So I braced myself to spend some time chit-chatting with our friends.  I did appreciate the comments about our respective children’s performances and how successful the event was, except for the odd incident in the middle.  It was nice to see my friends but I escaped as quickly as possible given my tiredness.  I don’t think any of my friends noticed that I was in a hurry to get myself home.  I think I hid it well.

I left Wayne and Alex at the gym, telling them I needed to get my parents’ home, and that I’d see them later at home.  When I got home, I went straight to bed after setting my alarm to wake up at 4am the next day for a 5am business call with the UK. I didn’t notice Wayne or Alex coming home.   I thought a good night sleep would put everything right again. Little did I know the chaos that would ensue.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

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