Chapter 43
Snow White Syndrome
“Miss, are you okay?”
I waved the question off as I slid against the hallway wall at the top of the second-floor stairwell.
My bicycle was beside me.
I didn’t mind carrying it up the flight of stairs.
I understood the reason behind the rule.
Today, something just felt… odd.
Out of breath.
Not out of strength.
“Miss, do you need help?”
“I’ll be fine.” I squeezed out the words from already empty lungs.
One student got right up in my face. “You don’t look good.”
I’ll be fine, just don’t make me talk.
“I’m getting help!” One young lady announced as she took off down the stairs.
“No.”
My voice sounded feeble.
Why do I sound weak?
I feel plenty strong.
I can make it to my room.
I tried rising only to fall back down.
The principal and Doris came running up the stairs.
“Everybody get to your class, go on. We’ve got this now.”
“Lee Ann, did you fall?”
I couldn’t find the air to speak.
“I’ll be fine.” The words sounded meek.
“What happened?” Doris asked.
“I don’t know.” I went back against the wall. “I’m fine unless I talk.”
“You need to get to the hospital,” Doris said.
“Are you well enough to drive there?” the principal asked.
I pointed toward my bike.
“Someone here will take you. It’s okay,” Doris said.
“Husband.”
“Yes, we have his number on file. Do you want us to call him to take you?”
I shook my head yes.
I pointed toward my room.
“Don’t you worry about that.” Doris said.
“We cover for each other all the time for stuff like this,” the principal added,
“Let us help you to the office. Don’t worry about your bike. I’ll get it put away.”
“Thank you.” And I was down on the floor again.
I’m not sure how I got out to our car.
When things started making more sense to me, I was sitting in the passenger seat beside Robert.
“Lee Ann? Can you talk to me now?” He looked concerned.
“Can’t breathe when I talk.”
I don’t know what those words sounded like to him, so I shook my head no.
“I’m glad you’re awake. I took off for the day. The hospital is around the corner. Hang in there.”
I shut my eyes.
I’m fine.
I feel fine.
Just don’t make me talk and I’ll be okay.
“Is this the schoolteacher?”
A team of staff were waiting by the entrance.
“The school phoned.”
“Yes. I don’t know what happened to her.
I got a phone call from the school saying that she needed to be checked out.
She keeps going unconscious.”
“I’m fine.” I whispered with all my strength.
“I just can’t talk.”
“Well, let’s get you into this wheelchair and inside. We’ll see what is going on.”
Fifteen minutes later.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
Blood pressure 180/45 and dropping.”
Staff were circling me.
I didn’t know why.
I am stronger than ever.
Healthy.
I felt fine.
Just tired.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
“Blood pressure 90/40.”
Oh my, such a fuss.
I’m glad Robert’s not here.
This would scare him to death.
“Blood pressure 70/30.”
“Heart rate 150.”
“We’re losing her!”
BeepBeepBeepBeep-
“Blood Pressure 40…”
“Heart rate 180”
Y’all…
I’m just tired.
Let me sleep.
It’ll be okay.
Such a fuss over nothing.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeee-
“Get the paddles!”
I’m just going to sleep for a bit.
I wasn’t out long,
I’m sure.
Just the minute or so it takes a qualified medical staff member to charge the defibrillator.
I came to, hearing,
“Wait! Don’t shock her. She’s coming to!”
I saw paddles above my body; they seemed to hover there.
I blinked and they were gone.
I told you I was just tired.
“What’s going on?” I said.
I was shocked.
Not defibrillator shocked.
Surprised.
“I can talk now! What did you all do?”
“The doctor will be in and talk to you in a few minutes.
Would you like your husband to come back?”
The nurse was a man with the prettiest blue eyes.
“He’s still here? I told him not to wait.”
“Ma’am… you flatlined. I don’t think he’s left.”
He adjusted my fluid intake.
That makes sense.
The blood pressure was dropping.
The heart rate was increasing.
The nurse left to find Robert.
The doctor entered.
“You have caused us to have a busy day!”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“The excitement never ends here. We’ll have you ready to go home in just a few minutes.”
Robert entered the room in time to hear that.
He questioned, “She can leave?”
“I can leave. But I died! How can I be well enough to leave?”
“We’ve run tests and”— he stopped and changed his statement into a question—“did you have anything local to eat today?”
“No. I had an apple from home.”
“Did you buy the apple locally?”
“Yes.”
He looked relieved.
“I got it here at the commissary two days ago.”
He no longer appeared relieved.
He looked… vexed.
“I was afraid of that.”
He swung open the door.
“Amy, get the manager of the commissary on the phone. He’s buying local product again.”
Confusion.
Why would where I buy an apple matter?
Robert asked the question for me.
“She did eat half of that apple but why would where she bought it matter.”
“You were with her when she bought it?”
“No. But I was home when she unloaded the groceries from the commissary.”
“Damn.”
“It’s like this.
In the U.S., DDT has been outlawed.
But here in Panama, malaria is still such a risk, they use it.
Sometimes, when the conditions are right, the fruit can have a buildup of DDT high enough to cause an allergic reaction in whoever eats it.”
Rachel Carson’s book, Silent Spring.
This was something I had studied in college.
And I grew furious on several levels.
But today is not the day for that battle.
The hospital cast a web over the community.
Within it, safety wasn’t optional.
“So… I ate a poisoned apple and died?”
“Technically, you weren’t gone long enough for any permanent damage. We gave you the meds to counteract it. They did their job quick enough.”
As a child, I had always wanted to live in the woods with animals like Snow White.
I could name every dwarf.
I had a terrarium with the little gnomes in it.
I stared at the doctor.
I stared at Robert.
“You know what this means?” I said with a big grin.
“I’m Snow White!”
Robert saw the excitement in my eyes… and rolled his eyes toward the doctor.
“Can she really go home this soon? She’s not going to relapse?”
“She’s fine now. Just stay away from any of those other apples you may have left.”
Amy stuck her head back in the door.
“The general manager is on the line for you.”
Then she turned to us with a form.
“Sign this, and you’re good to leave.”
That’s it.
I lived.
I died.
Now I’m living again.
I thought it would be more dramatic.
Daniel's Den 