she could hear what they were saying.
“Tory?” the dark-haired girl said in a voice that was tinged with fear. “What’s the matter?”
Tory shook her head. She seemed to be clutching her throat. Immediately, Erica thought the girl was choking. But then Tory turned around, and Erica knew that the situation was much worse.
Tory’s face was bright red, and her lips, cheeks, and neck were grossly swollen. Her eyes were beginning to shut because of the swelling. The hissing sound was Tory gasping for breath through her constricting throat. It was a textbook case of a severe allergic reaction. If nothing was done in the next few minutes to halt the reaction, Tory would go into shock and die.
When the dark-haired girl saw Tory’s face, she screamed. A dozen eyes turned in the teenagers’ direction, and without thinking, Erica ran over to them, as did a man who looked like a student.
“What’s wrong with her?” the student asked.
“I don’t know,” said the dark-haired teenager. “She was fine just a minute ago.”
“She’s having an allergic reaction,” Erica said, coming to a stop in front of the girls and dropping her hand basket to the ground.
“You,” she said, pointing at the student, “go call 911 and tell them it’s an emergency.”
She turned back to the teenagers. “Is she allergic to something in that cake you just ate?” she said to the dark-haired girl.
“Tory asked about nuts, but the woman said there weren’t any.”
Erica put one hand on Tory’s shoulder and lifted her head. The swelling was spreading rapidly. Tory’s face was now the color of one of the ripe tomatoes in Erica’s basket.
Severe allergies to nuts were fairly common; 100 people in the U.S. die from them every year. And sometimes the allergic person didn’t even have to eat nuts. The cake without walnuts might have had a nut oil, which would produce the same effect.
Tory lunged forward, panicking because she couldn’t breathe. She stumbled over Erica’s basket, scattering the fruit and the contents of her purse across the linoleum floor.
Erica clasped Tory’s shoulders hard, knowing the only way to save her was to give her the dose of epinephrine people with severe allergies like hers were supposed to carry.
“Tory, I know what the problem is and I’m going to help you. But you need to calm down.” Tory shook her head, but didn’t resist.
“What’s your name?” Erica said to the dark-haired girl as she held on to Tory.
“Maggie.”
“Maggie, I’m Erica. I need you to help me get Tory lying down. If she passes out and collapses, she might injure herself.”
“Are you a doctor?” Maggie said.
“Yes,” Erica said, knowing that telling Maggie she was a med student would only cause problems. On the other hand, if you told people you were a doctor, they immediately trusted your abilities. “Now, grab her other side.”
Gently, they moved Tory to the floor. Her breath was now coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
“Where’s her epi pin?” Erica said, beginning to search Tory’s pockets.
Maggie looked at her, puzzled. “Her what?”
“Her epinephrine. With her allergy, she should always be carrying it.”
“I don’t…”
“Damn!” Erica said. All she found were Tory’s driver’s license and seven dollars in cash. She wasn’t surprised; both of the severe allergic reactions she’d seen in the ER resulted from the patients not carrying their epi kits.
“Damn!” Erica yelled. “Did they call the paramedics?”
“They’re on their way,” someone said.
“How long?”
“They didn’t say. Maybe five minutes?” The response was more question than answer.
The nearest EMS unit could be all the way across town for all she knew. She had to do something, otherwise Tory would asphyxiate in minutes. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t take long for the girl to sustain irreversible brain damage. In an emergency room, a tracheotomy might have been an option, but under these conditions and with her lack of experience, she could just as easily kill the girl. Erica’s only choice was to stop the swelling before it got any worse.
By now, a few more of the students had gathered around the scene. An obese man wearing a tie and name tag shouldered some of the students aside.
“What’s going on here?” he said in a gruff voice.
“Are you the manager?” Erica said.
“Yes. Is the kid all right?”
“No, she’s about to go into shock.”
“Who are you?”
”I’m a doctor,” Erica said, not wanting to waste time explaining. “Go to the front of the store and make an announcement over the PA. Ask if there is anyone in the store who is allergic to bees and carries epinephrine…” Suddenly, Erica realized that was unnecessary. She remembered the sign on the front of the store that said “Pharmacy.”
“Forget that. Is the pharmacy open?”
“Sure,” the manager replied.
“Good. Go to there and ask the pharmacist for an adult epi kit.”
“A what?” the manager said, obviously confused.
“An kit of epinephrine for…” It was going to take too long to explain. The manager still had a bewildered look on his face, and if he brought back the wrong thing, it might be too late.
“Never mind,” Erica said. “Where’s the pharmacy?”
The manager pointed at the far end of the store.
“Maggie,” Erica said. “Don’t let Tory get up. Keep her still. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get some medicine.” She stood and faced the manager.
“Come with me,” she said and sprinted down the aisle toward the pharmacy.
Ten seconds later she skidded to a stop at the pharmacy counter. A man in his early thirties was sorting pills near the back. When she hit the counter, he looked up, startled.
“I need…an epi kit,” Erica said, gasping for breath more from the stress than the exertion.
For a moment, the man was taken aback. Then he said calmly, “And your name?”
“No,” Erica said. “This isn’t a prescription.” As she said it, the manager caught up with her at the counter, huffing like he could have a heart attack any minute. Judging from his weight, it was a distinct possibility.
His eyes on the manager, the pharmacist said, “Epinephrine is not an over-the-counter drug. I need a prescription…”
“Listen,” she said. “A girl on the other side of the store had a severe allergic reaction to that coffee cake the woman was serving by the registers. If she doesn’t get epinephrine in the next few minutes, she will die.” She glanced at the manager. “Do you understand?”
The manager’s eyes widened at the implications of a huge lawsuit. He looked at the pharmacist. “I saw the kid. Her face was swollen like a balloon. This woman is a doctor. Get her whatever she needs, right now.”
The pharmacist nodded. He hurried to the last shelf on the right and grabbed a box near the top. He gave it to Erica, who ripped open the package and withdrew a small syringe.
To the manager, she said, “I want you to go to the front of the store and wait for the paramedics so you can show them where we are.”
Without waiting for a response, she ran to Tory.
Erica approached the crowd and shoved two people aside. “Everybody back up!” she yelled. The dozen people surrounding her complied.
Erica kneeled next to the prone teenager. By now Tory was no longer moving, and her breath came in short, shallow hisses. Erica propped her head back to look down her throat. It was what she feared. In seconds, the
