Cough It Up
“I think I need to go to the hospital,” Barb says. I’ve been walking the Scottish countryside while Barb rested in this snug cottage we’ve borrowed from friends.
Yikes! I almost jump when she peeks around the corner. I try not to cringe as I help her down the stairs. I think of excuses to tell her husband why it’s not my fault that Barb died in Scotland. Maybe I can blame Liz.
I grab my purse and a coat. Then I stop. Liz took the car to a mountain biking trail two hours away. She won’t be home until evening.
We love this cottage because of its location. In the middle of nowhere. And nowhere in the Scottish countryside means lots of hills and trees and sheep and no cars.
Like the fool that I am, I hit the Uber app on my phone.
“I don’t think that will work,” Barb wheezes through coughing fits.
The little pinwheel on my screen just turns and turns. Somewhere, a server is having a nervous breakdown.
“The car rental place said it has taxis,” Barb reminds me. I’m supposed to be the one helping her but screaming flying monkeys ricochet in my skull.
Barb dials the Kyle Taxi Company and Nicole answers. “Ay,” she says, “I know the cottage. On my way.”
In twenty minutes, we are on the road to the local hospital as Nicole talks about her family and why she loves Scotland. I can almost hear her through Barb’s coughing spasms.
We share the waiting room with a French tourist who slipped in the mud and a young man holding his left arm. Barb’s head keeps dipping forward as her body tries to sleep. I prod her upright and pat her on the back. I’m useless.
After a couple of hours, Barb gets examined and x-rayed and sent on her way. It’s a virus but not covid.
“Can you give her something for the coughing?” I ask the nurse.
“No need of that. Give her a little lemon and honey in hot water. She’ll do fine.”
Barb’s cough sounds like the braying of an asthmatic donkey. I hoped the nurse could supply something a little stronger. Maybe for both of us.
The hospital visit is free, the cheery staff informs us.
Liz arrives with the car, and we pour Barb into the back seat. Liz biked for miles on the Scottish mountains and then drove 2 ½ hours to retrieve us.
We swing into the co-op to pick up honey and lemon for Barb.
Then we head straight for the liquor section.