Chapter One

2009

I collapsed to my knees and grasped Catherine’s hand. My voice shook as I called out her name, tears streaming down my face. Everyone rushed around us, and I felt their panic rising.

Marilyn and Frieda moved to my side, their trembling hands frantically checking for a pulse. “Call 911!” Frieda screamed.

The wail of the siren pierced the air as the ambulance pulled into the driveway. Two EMTs jumped out and assessed Catherine’s condition.

Marilyn and Stacy pulled me away, wrapping their arms tightly around me.

We watched silently as the EMTs worked in a blur of motion, their hands flying across the gurney and medical equipment as they attached an IV line on one side, hooked up monitors on the other, and attached defibrillator pads to Catherine’s chest. The rhythm of their movements was synchronized in a desperate attempt to save her life. Everyone surrounded me, and with each chest compression, tears dripped onto my shoulder as we silently prayed for any sign that she would be all right.

As Nedra drove us to Dayton’s Good Samaritan Hospital, I pried my fingers from Marilyn’s. My mind tried to grasp what had happened, and dread washed over me as Nedra uttered, “We’re here.” My stomach clenched as an icy chill ran down my spine.

I burst through the double doors of the ER, crashing them against the wall and drawing everyone’s attention to me. I beelined toward the registration counter, narrowly avoiding colliding with an older man being pushed in a wheelchair. The nurse behind the counter was completely engrossed in her computer, oblivious to me.

“Catherine Wolford was just brought in by ambulance,” I said as Marilyn, Stacy, and Cindy caught up and stood beside me.

“Are you family? A sister?” the nurse asked.

“Yes, I’m her family. I’m her partner.”

“We need her family contact information.”

“I am her family.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezed my eyes tight, and said through clenched teeth, “Her family has not been in her life for fifteen years.”

Cindy touched my shoulder. “We’ll provide you with the family contact information. But right now, what information can we give you to help Catherine?”

I took a long, measured breath and forced my jaw to relax. I looked at the nurse and asked in a strained but controlled voice, “What information do you need?”

“Do you have her insurance details? Does she have any allergies? Is she taking any medications?” She shoved a clipboard in my direction. “Here’s the form. Can you complete it as much as possible and return it to me? That would help greatly.”

I walked to the nearest chair and sank into it with an exhausted huff. I ran my trembling fingers through my hair before inhaling deeply and scribbling responses. Nedra and Frieda joined the others, standing or sitting around me, silently watching as I wrote.

Nedra walked with me to return the clipboard, and I asked, “Please, will you tell us her condition?”

“Again, legally, you are not family. I’m not sure how much information I can give you.”

“Excuse me,” Nedra said.

“Nedra,” I cautioned.

She touched my shoulder. “Let me handle this for you.”

My hand shot out and gripped her upper arm, my fingers digging into her skin. My voice caught in my throat as I begged, “Please, don’t make this any worse than it is.”

Nedra turned to the nurse, inhaled, and explained that the Ohio Department of Health and Human Services was developing hospital guidelines prohibiting sexual orientation and gender-identity discrimination.

“I don’t...” the nurse began.

“I believe this hospital is working on their guidelines as we speak.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. Let me ask my supervisor.” The nurse rose from her chair and retreated through a door.

I stared at Nedra.

The nurse returned. “My supervisor says I can share information about the patient with you. Medical decisions, though, she’ll need to investigate.”

I glanced at Nedra. She nodded and said, “Okay, acceptable for now.”

“So, what is Catherine’s status?” I asked.

“She’s still being evaluated. A doctor will come as soon as possible to inform you of her condition.”

I thanked the nurse as my heart raced. I shuffled alongside Nedra and Frieda when suddenly, Nedra yanked me back. I sidestepped a mother and her teenage son strolling toward us. Nedra mumbled an apology while Frieda guided me to a chair, her delicate touch calming my frayed nerves.

“Nedra, it’s a good thing you volunteer your paralegal services at Equality Ohio,” Cindy said.

As Nedra explained the guidelines, I stood and paced around the room, my movements sluggish and labored, as if I were walking through molasses. My throat was dry and tight, and my heart pounded as tears coursed down my cheeks. “Damn it! What the fuck? Catherine, where’s Catherine?”

Frieda rushed over to me and placed her arm around my shoulder. “Dayna. Please, let’s sit down.”