Chapter 2His Intern Nearly Killed My Son

The nurse's technique was steady. One needle, and the blood came out.

Before taking it for testing, she specifically told me, "That intern's name is Emma Brown. If you can't stand her, I can teach you how to file a complaint..."

Just then, Emma suddenly came back. She heard our conversation, and her face darkened instantly.

"Dr. Smith just called to chew me out. You complained, didn't you? So what if I stuck him a few extra times? You're exactly what I expect from helicopter moms!"

The nurse quickly slipped away.

My son was still crying. I held him and rocked him gently, suppressing my anger. "I didn't complain..."

Emma rolled her eyes, pulled out a chair and sat down, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Low-class moms are terrifying! They think just because they had a kid, the whole world has to revolve around them."

After the blood test results came out, Emma casually glanced at the report.

"Just a common cold. Take some medicine and you'll be fine."

I had a vague feeling something was wrong.

My son's breathing was rapid, his cough sounded phlegmy, and his forehead was burning hot—clearly over 102 degrees.

I'd learned a little from Ethan. This didn't seem like a common cold. It was more like pneumonia.

However, after hearing my guess, Emma exploded.

"Am I the doctor or are you? You're one of those moms who teaches herself medicine online, aren't you! Your kid's really suffering with you as a mother!"

She hammered away at the keyboard again. "Go pay and get the medicine. Take it on schedule. If it's not better in three days, come back."

I picked up the prescription and scanned it. She'd prescribed every kind of antibiotic imaginable. Total: $876.

There were even several medications that children with colds shouldn't take, including some containing alcohol.

I couldn't stand this intern anymore.

"My husband is the Chief of Pediatrics here. His name is Ethan Smith. Call him over. Tell him his son has a high fever."

She looked me up and down, then covered her mouth and laughed.

"Do you know how many women come looking for Dr. Smith every day? And you even brought a kid with you. Older women really have thick skin, don't they?"

My son was crying in my arms. I comforted him while saying, "If you don't believe me, just go to his office and ask him."

Her eyes darted around, and she nodded. "Fine. I guess you won't give up until you hit rock bottom."

About three minutes later, she came back.

She sat down in her chair and crossed her legs. "Dr. Smith said he doesn't have a kid. Stop harassing him."

My mind went blank.

Ethan and I had been married for five years. Our son was three years old.

During that time, he'd been incredibly attentive to me and our child. It was rare for him to be unreachable like tonight because of a shift and a meeting.

There was only one possibility—she never called him at all.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan's number again, but it was still turned off.

Just then, my son suddenly began coughing violently, his little face turning bright red.

I quickly held him upright and patted his back.

As he coughed, his body suddenly went rigid.

He started having a seizure.