“Hello? Grandma? No response came when I turned on the kitchen light. My heart was now pounding as I walked through the kitchen, through the door to the living room. The television played silent colors over the empty couch and chairs. "Where are you?" I called, more urgently, walking out of the living room and sneaking into his bedroom. Once again, the lights were off, the bed quiet. As I called a third time, I heard a muffled cooing. Turning around, I saw his bathroom door closed. Trembling slightly, I tried to open the door, but I met resistance. “Grandma, it’s Jack, are you in the bathroom?” An unintelligible moan came from behind the door. I opened the door as quietly as possible, just enough to fit my head through. My grandmother was curled up on the floor, her feet pressed against the door. “Oh my God, are you okay?” I screamed. As if I needed clarification. In incredibly garbled words, she managed to tell me that she had been feeling weak and that the left side of her face was numb. A chill ran down my spine as I rushed to my phone, remembering bits of my mediocre medical knowledge. “911 Operator, what is your address and telephone number?” » « 5920 Brookgreen, 678 772,0304 », I