I am face-down on the floor, the life force ebbing from my body. Must. Dial. Phone.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
I croak but can’t speak.
“Ma’am? What is the nature of your emergency?”
Can’t. Catch. Breath.
“Ma’am, are you choking?”
“No,” I manage.
“Are you bleeding? Is there an intruder in the house? Are you on fire? Is there a Doberman hanging from your jugular?”