Sleeping Beauty, Take Two

Once upon a time, in a castle very similar to Hennepin Church, King Jesus’ handbell choir prepared their annual concert.  They called upon the Court Percussion Pinch-Hitter, Anne of Saint Paul, to add a bit of backbeat to a couple of the tunes.

The night of the concert arrived.  Anne of Saint Paul instructed her husband and child that attendance was pretty much mandatory or they would face the wrath of Fairy Grandmother Ruth of the Bell Order.  When the clock struck seven, Anne’s betrothed and spawn were nowhere to be found.  And the newfangled electricity suddenly went out in the entire castle.

What to do, what to do!  Revelers rushed hither and yon, illuminating the path to their seats with strange hand-held rectangles of light.  The castle custodian attached magical battery-driven bulbs to each music stand.

The concert began!  At the end of a marvelous musical hour (during which remarkably few notes were missed), a Friend approached Anne of Saint Paul.

“Your dad needs you now,” she said.

“My dad needs me now?” Anne replied.  “He needs me now?”  She found this a bit odd and hurried to the back of the great hall.

Her father stood over the inert body of her son.  “I can’t wake him up!” her father proclaimed.

Anne knelt next to her son.  Many thoughts flitted through her panicked brain:

What happened?  What’s he doing here?  Where is my husband?  Is he breathing?  Yes, he’s breathing.  Airway, Breathing Circulation.  Airway, Breathing, Circulation.  

She jostled her son.  Wake up!  He would not awaken.

“At least tell me he’s breathing,” her father said.

“He’s breathing,” Anne said.

Is there a doctor in the – Oh crap.  Wake up or I’m going to call 911.  I wish I could test his blood sugar.  And to think I was just debating during the concert whether to carry Narcan like I carry an Epi-pen.  Not that he needs it.  What the $%^& is going on?  I could carry him to my car.  Can I even lift him?  He’d slump over my shoulder and I could drag him down the stairs and drive where?  HCMC?  Prince is dead.  “Unresponsive” is such an ominous word and now my own son is unresponsive.

“Call 911,” Anne said to her father.

“I’ll have to find a phone,” he replied.  Anne just about fell over because her father is never without his cellular device.

Someone called 911.

“Call Stuart,” Anne said to her father.

“What’s the number?” he replied.

Anne nearly became unresponsive at that point.  Here she was at the tail-end of her duties to the crown with a missing husband, a freaked-out father, and a son who wouldn’t wake up.

I’d like to say that Anne pressed a kiss to his forehead and he awakened.  True love always wins.  In reality, Anne’s body finally recalled a bit of her medical training and she gave her son a nice sternal rub.

Lo, his eyes opened!  Anne of Saint Paul shoved a snickerdoodle down her son’s throat.  “You almost gave me a heart attack,” she said.  They called off the paramedics.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Musical Moment

Epilogue:

According to the son, he became ill on the ride to the castle.  Apparently the grandfather’s chariot driving skills left a bit to be desired.  Upon their arrival to the castle, the child went in search of hydration but alas, the drinking fountains were caput due to the electrical outage.  The child lay down on the hard chairs, correctly ascertaining that sleep might do him a bit of good.  And he fell into a deep, deep slumber.

Anne of Saint Paul and her progeny returned home whereupon they relayed their adventure to Stuart.  As the son prepared for bed, Anne came quietly unglued.  And her charming husband squeezed her till she fell back together.