An Ambulance Took My Mother to the Hospital—When I Returned for Her Medical Folder, I Found My Mother-in-Law Moving Into Her Apartment

“Your mother is going to be in the hospital for days, and you’re really going to let that beautiful apartment sit there empty?”

That was the first thing my husband said while paramedics were carrying my mother down the stairs.

Not:

“Is Lucia going to be okay?”

Not:

“Should I come with you?”

Not even:

“Do you have everything she needs?”

Raul stood inside the doorway with one hand braced against the frame, watching as my mother was taken toward the ambulance.

“What a waste,” he added.

I stared at him.

My mother, Lucia, had spent almost an hour doubled over beneath her ribs before finally agreeing to let me call emergency services.

She was pale enough to frighten me.

Sweat had soaked through the collar of her blouse even though the apartment was cool.

One minute she would tell me the pain was easing, and the next she would curl forward and whisper:

“Mariana, something is wrong.”

The paramedics agreed.

I was carrying her handbag and a blue medical folder when one of them said they wanted her evaluated immediately.