Snapshot of the Future Naples, Florida. January 29, 2019

     “Carl, are you alright?” Beverly Jacowsky looked at her husband across the table. They had been eating dinner when Carl had leaned back in the wicker chair, his face suddenly etched with pain. He looked down and began massaging his left arm. “Carl, what's wrong!”

     “I....my arm....I...I can’t breathe....” He was suddenly gasping for air. Beverly screamed as he fell off the chair, his face flushed and covered with perspiration.

     “Carl!” She yelled, running to his side. She grabbed the Emergency Response Device, or “ERD” as it was called, that was around her neck and pushed the button. She hoped it would work. Her mind raced back to a similar situation a few years ago that ended in tragedy.   The ERD system was one of the newer benefits of Universal Health Care, a monitoring system for everyone with a health problem that could turn into an emergency. Tens of millions of people took advantage of it, and not just older people. Welfare recipients, guest workers, undocumented immigrants, anyone who wanted one, even for the most spurious of reasons, was given the device. The idea was that if one was unable to call for help, a simple press of a button on a small device hung around the neck would bring help. It even sent out a GPS signal so emergency services would know just where the victim was. Within the first two years the system was overwhelmed and the projected costs had tripled. Poor mothers used it for children with colds, illegals used it for fender benders, psychiatric patients used it to warn the operators about the end of the world. When her friend Claire had used it after a fall in the shower, there was no response for twenty seven hours, the lines were so backed up. The paramedics found her dead from a blood clot that had resulted from the fall. Immediate treatment would have saved her life.

     Beverly’s phone rang and she answered it quickly. “Hello!” She didn’t realize she was still yelling.

    “What is the nature of your emergency?” asked the deadpan voice on the other end. The woman had a thick Spanish accent.

    “My husband, he just collapsed, I think he’s having a heart attack!”

    “What are his symptoms?” The voice on the other end was not just calm, thought Bev, but...bored?

    “He’s having trouble breathing, he said his left arm was numb, he’s sweating terribly. Please send someone!” she pleaded.

    “Can I have his Health Insurance Identification Number please, so I can verify your information?”

    “I don’t know! My husband needs help now!”

    “The Emergency Response Device is registered to Carl Jacowsky residing at 134 Ocean Way, Naples, Florida. Is this correct?”

    “Yes!”

    “Are you presently located at that address?”

    “Yes, please send someone!”

    “I am contacting emergency services now. The first available team will be sent to your location. Thank you for using the American Health Initiative Emergency Response Network. Have a nice day.” The phone went dead.

     Beverly couldn’t believe it. ‘Have a nice day?!’ Her husband was fighting for his life on the kitchen floor and she says ‘Have a nice day’ and hangs up?! She had heard stories from a few other people about the employees that manned the response center.   When the system had been set up a new federal workers union had been formed, the ERPU or the Emergency Response Personnel Union. But she thought they were simply isolated incidents. Surely if there was a widespread problem with the operators they would have heard about it on the news.

     Carl groaned. “Stay with me honey, help is on its way.” She patted his hand as tears ran down her cheeks. She knew the nearest fire station was only two blocks away so if the call went out quickly the paramedics should arrive in a few minutes. She continued talking soothingly to her love of forty seven years as he lay gasping for air on the floor. She sighed in relief when she heard the sirens. Within minutes she had let the paramedics in and they were assessing her husband, asking a myriad of questions and preparing to move him to the ambulance. She followed them out the door and watched as they loaded him in. As she moved to the back door of the ambulance, on of the medics stopped her.

    “I’m sorry ma'am, no one else is allowed in the emergency vehicle, government regulations. You can meet us at the emergency room, if you like,” he added as he closed the door and rushed to the driver’s side.

    Beverly was dumbfounded for a moment and then rushed back into the house for her keys as the ambulance sped away. She arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later and rushed to the emergency room. It was packed. A cacophony of voices met her, some English, some Spanish. She rushed to the desk and pushed to the front of the line, enduring the remarks of those she displaced. The woman at the desk didn’t seem to care.

    “My husband, Carl Jacowsky, could you tell me where he is? He was brought in by ambulance a few minutes ago.”

   “Could you spell that please?” The woman sounded bored and annoyed. Beverly spelled it out as the woman typed. “I’m sorry, we have no record of an admittance under that name. You might want to check out front, we are really backed up today. Next!” Beverly was rudely pushed aside by a large Spanish woman. She hurried out the door to where a row of ambulances were parked, engines running. There must have been more than ten. She quickly walked down the line until she recognized the driver that prohibited her from riding along. She quickly went to the back door and banged on it. A muffled curse came from the inside and then the door opened up. Carl was still on the gurney, hooked up to various machines.

    “Why is my husband still here?!”

    “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be here. We are waiting for an opening, please go wait in the emergency room.”

    “I’m not leaving my husband!”

    “Ma’am, the rules are..”

    “To hell with the rules! Why is my husband still here!”

    “Brad, call security,” stated the medic, turning to his companion. Suddenly, one of the machines began beeping insistently. “Code!” yelled the medic. The next five minutes were a blur to Beverly. Needles, paddles, shouting, more electronic beeping. Then all was calm, only one machine buzzing a long even tone until the medic switched it off.

    “Time to call it. 6:18.”

    Beverly fell to here knees behind the ambulance. The red glow of the emergency room sign competed with the orange glow of the sunset. Carl was dead.