After hearing my husband's apology, the paramedics' expressions hardened.
"911 is an emergency line. Lives are at stake. You think this is something you can play around with? If we wanted to push this, we could report you for wasting emergency medical resources. Every single one of you would be facing a formal reprimand."
"Yes, yes, of course. We know we were wrong. It won't happen again."
My husband fell over himself apologizing, then turned to Doreen with a show of scolding her. "You hear that? No more using 911 for your dares."
Doreen giggled. "Fine, fine. I get it."
The paramedics clearly weren't satisfied with her attitude. Their faces stayed stony. But they couldn't exactly call the police and have everyone at a corporate gala hauled in, so they turned with tight jaws and started carrying the stretcher toward the exit.
Panic tore through me. "Wait! Don't go!"
The paramedics paused and looked back.
My husband was at my side in an instant, his voice a sharp hiss. "Haven't you caused enough of a scene?"
Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Doreen's just being playful. Humor her. It's harmless. Let these people leave, and I'll drive your mother to the hospital myself."