The emergency unit of the county hospital was crowded when Amy May rushed in, chest heaving.
It was barely afternoon. How was the hospital this crowded? She wondered, walking towards the reception desk.
Three ladies in scrubs attended calls while simultaneously trying to calm anxious visitors and fish patient details from their computer system. Part of her wanted to pity them but her son came first.
“Hi. I got a call that my son is here. Can I see him?”
One of the ladies glanced up with a gentle smile. “Name, please.”
“George May.”
“Ah, the boy who ate toad—”
“He ate what?” Amy asked incredulously, her voice rising in disbelief.
Just then a handsome, young doctor stopped by the desk and handed a file to the receptionist. “You are Mrs May?” Amy nodded. “Please come with me."
George lay curled up in a hospital bed, staring at the TV with a bored expression. His face lit up when he saw his mother. Amy rushed to his side and hugged him. “They told me you ate a toad,” she asked with a frown. He stayed silent.
“Uh, toad in the hole,” the doctor explained, a small smile tugging at his lips. “A cooking experiment in their culinary class. The teacher didn't realise he was allergic to gluten.”
“How is he now?” Amy stroked her son's face and brushed his hair, more to calm herself than him.
“He will be fine, ma'am. We have given him antihistamines to calm the nausea and cramps.”
Amy made a mental note to have a serious conversation with the teacher and school authorities the following day.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "he ate what?". Please note that toad in a hole is actually a traditional British meal and not the literal toad in water.
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Image credit: Berkemeier